A small, sad smile graced her lips. “Not that kind of tired, my love. But you’re right. I’ll go lay down for a bit.”
Another memory replaces that one of when I was about twelve years old. I was coloring at the kitchen island when I had asked her a seemingly innocent and random question.
“Nana, if you won a million dollars, what would you buy?”
“No money in the world could buy me what I truly want,” Nana says, a teasing grin on her face.
“Well, what do you want?”
Her smile drops, just for a second, too quick for my twelve-year-old brain to think much of it.
“Peace, baby. All I want is peace.”
I go to bed that night just a little drunk and even sadder.
I miss Zade.
He’s off doing something dangerous tonight—some dinner party. I know he's there to save a little girl, but there's still that selfish part of me that wishes he were here.
My instinct is to hate myself for it. Part of me still does. I don't know how long it's going to take before I fully accept the fact that I've started to fall for him. That I'm accepting him into my life.
How long has he been stalking me for? Three months? Not very long at all. In fact, that's such an insignificant amount of time, it almost makes me sick. There's still so much I don't know about him. What's his favorite color? Does he have allergies? I hope he's allergic to all my favorite foods so I don't have to share. Or, at least I hope he doesn't like them. More for me.
And I hope I don't like his favorite foods because if I do, I'll probably eat off his plate, too.
He probably wouldn't mind. And that softens my heart into a pile of mush. Because somehow a man that wouldn't care if I ate his food fell in love with me. That's so fucking cute.
I flop onto my bed and groan. Daya left an hour ago. We spent the rest of the day working on our respective work. She let me be for the most part while I stewed over the revelations. And after she left, I kept drinking until I stopped thinking about it.
Tomorrow, I'll regret it. I'm not even halfway through the next installment in my series, and I have a lot of readers pushing for it. The pressure always starts getting heavy when several months pass between releases.
Whatever. Maybe Zade will stop by and magically cure my hangover since he's good at making me feel things that should be physically impossible. Especially when he arches his brow and that wicked grin graces his lips.
I clench my thighs, a flood of arousal stirring between my thighs. My breathing escalates, just with the memory of one look, and I'm melting. How is that possible?
I kick off my leggings, a burning sensation in my stomach spreading until it feels like I'm drowning in a pit of flames. A flush is already forming on my chest, and I know pretty soon it'll start creeping up my neck.
Next, I rip my t-shirt over my head, leaving me in only my matching bra and panty set. It's white and silky, and that insane part of me wishes Zade was here to see it. He'd probably think I look so innocent. An angel and a demon. Forbidden but drawn to each other anyways.
That could be a book... based on the attraction between two opposite souls.
Biting my lip, I snake my hand down the front of my underwear, the tip of my finger scarcely brushing across my clit. The contact is so light but yet has electricity zipping through my veins. I close my eyes, releasing a shaky breath. And I pretend that Zade is kneeling before me. Ordering me to touch myself for him. To show him what I do when he's not here.
My heart pounds heavily in my chest, like a basketball on a court. I slip my fingers further down, dipping the tip into the pool of wetness that has gathered. I'm embarrassingly wet.
Licking my lips, I plunge my two fingers inside, a moan falling from my lips as my body seizes with pleasure.
Zade's deep, bottomless voice whispers in my mind of all the dirty things he's growled in my ear. All the words that have stopped my heart in my chest.
My redemption will become your salvation.
I was convinced he would be my damnation. But at this moment, it feels like I've walked into paradise.
Nirvana.
Just like he said when his tongue was plunged deep inside of me, like my fingers are now.
I moan louder, the crescendo building as the image flickers to Zade sitting behind me in my car, feasting on me—no, drinking from me like a dying man deprived of water.