Zane (Inked Brotherhood 3)

He’s lifting and lowering me faster now, but he falters when I tweak his piercing again. He’s panting harshly, and I move my hand to the other small nipple. I hit the ball at the end of the bar, making it vibrate, and Zane chokes on a cry, his cock swelling and jerking inside me.

I do scream then, as I come, and the world goes white.

Zane grunts and slams me down harder, triggering more pleasure, and then he tenses, his hips lifting me up. He curses, teeth gritted, and lets out a loud groan as he rocks into me. I can feel him come, his cock pulsing inside me, and I clench again.

Wow. Can someone die of pleasure?

Zane rocks his hips a few more times, his face scrunched up, and then sprawls back on

to the pillows, gulping air into his lungs. My hand is still on his chest, and I flick his piercing once more, just to hear him moan.

It’s strangled, and his cock twitches inside me. I gasp.

“Damn, girl.” Zane mutters and slaps my hand away from his nipple. A crooked grin lifts one side of his mouth, though, and his face looks more peaceful than it has in a while. “You trying to kill me?”

“I could ask you the same,” I breathe.

He slides his hands up my ribcage, then around my back and pulls me to him. “Stay,” he whispers, and I begin to nod, because it’s turning into yet another ritual between us, when he clarifies. “Stay here, until you find a place.”

My heart hammers in my chest. I want to ask him if he’s sure, if he’s thought this through, but instead I snap my mouth shut. Am I crazy? This is what I want.

He holds me close, and I lie on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, my hands resting on his shoulders, and I smile. I feel content. I feel happy. So happy I can’t even remember what scared me so much earlier tonight.

***

I’m in Zane’s bed. He’s propped up on his elbow, his hand stroking my back, and I can feel his body heat, so close. Close, but not quite touching. It lulls me to sleep, and I drift off, feeling safe and strangely at ease.

Next time I open my eyes, the sky is lightening outside the window, and I’m alone in bed. I roll onto my back, checking, just in case I missed a six-foot-tall guy lying next to me.

Nope. Zane isn’t here. I wonder if he even slept in the bed with me…

Good God, I’m in his bed!

The thought hits me like a snowball out of hell, and I sit up, suddenly wide awake. Frigging hell, I’ve slept in Zane’s bed, at his side—after some of the hottest sex of my life. Zane Madden, who doesn’t kiss and doesn’t bring chicks home, has done plenty of both with me.

And he asked me to stay.

This last thought is sweet and makes me close my eyes and smile. There’s a warm feeling in my chest, in my mind, when I think about him. Bad boy, melt-your-panties hot Zane wants me to stay. The combination of scorching sex, bad attitude and his softer, troubled side are driving me to my knees.

I’m still naked. My clothes are strewn on the floor, my skirt and blouse where I dropped them last night before crawling into bed. I grab my clothes and pull them on, but when I look for my underwear, I don’t see it anywhere.

Frowning, I glance around one more time. Nope, can’t see my panties or my bra.

However, I’m in Zane’s bedroom, and I just have to snoop around a little. I walk to the shelves by the window and trail my fingers over the few books stacked there. They are big, coffee table books. Tattoo Design, Drawing, Art over the Centuries, The Art of Dreaming.

Dreaming? I pull it out carefully. It’s a small book, a paperback, unlike the others. ‘What Dreams Mean’ the front cover declares, and I thumb through the pages. Symbolism of dreams. Recurrent dreams. Nightmares and the subconscious. Dreams and memories.

This chapter has a bookmark clip. ‘Is it just a dream or a real memory?’ the chapter starts, and I frown.

I remember hands on me, he said. Does he dream about them, too, I wonder?

Suddenly ashamed for going through his stuff, I put the book back. I’m about to turn around and go look for Zane, when a couple of photos taped to the wall catch my attention.

They’re actually print-outs on glossy paper, the image kind of grainy. One of them is a group photo taken at a party. It takes me a moment to recognize Zane in it. Younger, his hair falling in his eyes, a bright green, an arm around a boy scowling at the camera. I think I recognize those pale wolf’s eyes: Asher. Best friends forever, huh?

The blond girl next to him has to be Tessa, and she’s not looking at the camera at all. She’s staring at a broad-shouldered boy with a drink in his hand and a grin on his handsome face. Dylan. He’s leaning on the shoulder of a blond, slender boy, who must be Rafe.

Tyler is missing and so is Audrey. I wonder why.