Zane Romance Novels Novels & Stories

I answer. “Seriously,” Zane asks. “Well, you and I have no romantic interest in each other, right?” I ask with raised eyebrows. “Because if you like me like that you better stop going after my sister. I don't want the same dick she gets.” Zane cocks a single eyebrow. “Do you like guys?” I laugh, “Not really. I prefer a woman, not to say I wouldn't try it once.” Zane makes a funny face again. Making me laugh again.

I am incredibly late. This is the moment I have been anxiously awaiting - my first encounter with the renowned Zane Orion. A figure of literary mastery, and my class supervisor. Although I am more than familiar with his work, today marks our first official introduction. And unfortunately, I have already managed to make a terrible first impression. In my hastened state, I stub my toe on the elevated platform and stifle a silent cry of pain. Could this day possibly get any worse? I remember the first time I read Zane Orion's nonfiction book on the romanticism of poetry, at the tender age of fifteen. It was a pivotal moment that ignited my passion for writing.

Oh goodness, her ovaries were kicking in high gear because seeing that look in Zane’s eyes just made him ten times sexier than he already was. “I think I can handle that,” he said, nodding as he sank into the rocking chair and accepted a book from Beatrice. “The Pretty Pink Princess,” he read in a soft voice as Dina listened with rapt wonder, leaning against his chest as if Zane was a part of their routine and not a stranger. Tears stung Beatrice’s eyes as something heavy dragged on her heart and she backed out of the room before she started crying. If Zane were a normal guy, maybe it would’ve worked out between them but Zane was more than just a good guy she’d hooked up with. In fact, she w

Within minutes, I don't remember how we all ended up sitting like that—Zane cross-legged on my bed, Kim leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, me half-hunched on the arm of my chair like I couldn't make up my mind whether I wanted to sit or stand—it was really uncomfortable for a while, but I was glad no one was fighting. “So…” I began, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. “uh… what’s your deal with boys?” Zane groaned, tipping her head over to stare at the ceiling. “Oh by the gods. Where do I even start? Remember how I told you about Ryan?” I nodded. “The tall one who thinks his jawline is, like… the eighth wonder of the world?” “Yeah well, I used to have a crush on him. Like, emb

It wouldn’t do for him to come too soon. When he felt Janiya’s lips touch his neck in the lightest of kisses, he began his famous thrust again. This girl was everything, and not just because of the body beneath him that turned him on so much. Janiya was the love that almost got away. And no matter how many times people say he can’t love her. He was Zane, and can’t, wasn’t in his vocabulary. So whatever Zane wanted, he pursued and obtained. Suddenly and without warning, before she could catch her breath, he grazes her brown nipple with his lips. He flicks it with his tongue, making goosebumps appear, then sinks his hot breath over it and into his mouth.

“You want to know why? Because I’m sick of your lies. Rion treats me with respect, with love. He cares about my happiness, about my pleasure—something you never even considered. He knows what it means to be with someone who consents, who wants to be with him. And he knows how to make me feel good, Zane. Better than you ever could, in every way. He makes me feel alive, loved, cherished." I leaned in closer, my words now as sharp as a blade, meant to cut him deeply. “Do you want to know how Rion touches me? How he makes me feel?” I saw the flicker of anger in Zane’s eyes, but I didn’t stop. “When Rion is with me, he makes every moment about me. He listens to my body, he knows what I like, what

Trina's POV Every night since that last heated kiss we shared in Texas, try as hard as I may, I just couldn’t stop dreaming about Zane. Slowly and surely, he had dominated my thoughts both when I am awake and when I am asleep. I keep having vivid, erotic dreams of him with his hands exploring all over my body with an unrelenting hunger and his lips following shortly after. Sometimes I wake up breathless, tangled in my sheets, with my heart pounding with an ache I didn’t want to acknowledge and at other times, I wake up startled, horrified by the realization that I wanted more— not just in my dreams, but in reality. I wanted him so badly and not just for him to kiss me or touch me erotically

“That’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. Have you ever considered the fact that your wolf isn’t actually gone?’ “If she was here, I’d still feel her. I just feel…empty inside. It’s been like this since the incidence. If she was still here I’d feel her.” “I don’t have the answers right now,” Zane said calmly, “but we’ll figure things out together.” He lifted the hand with the ring and brought it to his lips. The warmth of his mouth washed through my body as he kissed my knuckles. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it all.” I nodded in agreement, a little too flustered at his kiss to speak. Everything he happened to do just made my whole body swell with delight. My growling stomac

But Zane… Zane glowed. His outfit was simpler by comparison, a fitted suit of midnight black that clung to his frame with quiet confidence. His hair was neatly styled, and there was a faint shimmer on his skin like he had brushed against stardust. He wasn’t trying to stand out, but that only made him more magnetic. They separated without a word, drifting into their respective sections like nothing had happened. But everything had happened. I hadn’t taken my eyes off him, and now, here he was… glowing from the inside, with Ronan.

“Damien not glued to your side today? Odd. He tends to keep his… projects close.” Serena’s brows drew together. “What exactly are you implying?” “Oh, come now.” Camille stepped closer, her perfume cloying, her smile widening. “You don’t honestly think you’re the first, do you? Damien has a pattern. Swoops in, plays the saviour, dresses his women up like trophies, parades them around… and when he’s bored, he doesn’t just walk away. He breaks them. Quietly. Completely.” Serena’s jaw tightened, though her voice stayed steady. “Thanks for the unsolicited TED Talk on Damien Drake, but I’ll pass.”