Chapter 27: To Feel Him, To Keep Him

Chapter 27: Chapter 27: To Feel Him, To Keep Him After telling him to wait, I made my way downstairs and called security, giving the order to let him in. When he finally pulled up and stepped out of his car, seeing him again shattered every thought I had rehearsed. I wanted him. I just didn’t know how much yet. We went straight to my room. He sat down, silently watching me for a while before finally speaking. "I’m sorry... about this morning," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. I looked at him, but said nothing. He went on. "Everything I said. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I wasn’t trying to hurt you." I nodded. "It’s okay... I’m not thinking too much about it anymore." But that was a lie. Looking at Zayn now, I knew exactly why he was here. It wasn’t just to say sorry. He was addicted, not just to my voice, but to my control, my dominance. He came for sex. And I hated how obvious it was, written all over his face. Then he turned to me, his voice quiet but certain. "I’m not going back tonight," he said. "I’ll be spending the night here." I didn’t respond immediately. My eyes studied him, his expression unreadable, but the intent behind his words crystal clear. He wasn’t asking for permission. He was letting me know. There was a pause, thick with something unspoken, before he continued. "I want to shower," he said, more softly this time. "Could you give me something to change into?" I stood up without saying much and walked over to the wardrobe. From the shelf, I pulled out a pair of soft gray pajama pants and a loose, oversized navy blue T-shirt. They were the kind of clothes I wore to sleep—simple, warm, and comfortable enough to forget the world in. "Here," I said, handing them over. "You can wear these for the night. They’re clean and should be comfortable." His fingers brushed mine as he took them, holding my gaze for a moment longer than necessary. "Thanks," he said, his voice lower now, almost like it had settled into the night with me. He walked into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him, while I tried to steady my thoughts. The air in the room felt heavier, warmer, like something was about to shift. When he stepped out, he had only a towel wrapped around his waist. I stared at him, imagining tearing it off with my teeth. But I made a decision: Not tonight. No matter what game he was playing, I wasn’t going to be just a fuck buddy tonight. He sat beside me on the bed, close enough for the warmth of his skin to touch mine. Then, in that tone he only used when he wanted something, he murmured, "Can you help me dry my hair?" he asked, trying to sound innocent, seductive. I didn’t move. "Just do it yourself, Zayn. Don’t be spoiled." He leaned closer, the towel still barely clinging to his hips. "You know why I’m here, right?" "Yes," I said. "You came to apologize." We both knew that wasn’t the full truth, but I kept twisting his words, avoiding the obvious. He shifted beside me, the air between us tightening. Then he spoke again, his voice low, almost uncertain. "Evric..." He paused, then said my name again, slower this time, like he was trying to anchor me. "You know why I’m here... right?" I turned to face him. I wanted to answer and then his mouth found mine. The kiss was intense, rough consuming. For a moment, we were lost in it, gasping between breaths. But when his hand reached for my dick, I pulled away. "No. Please stop, Zayn," I whispered. "We’re not doing that." He blinked, clearly frustrated. "Why not? You know I came for it." I looked at him, holding his gaze. "I can’t keep doing this with you unless you start seeing more in me. If you crave my voice, my body... why not crave my heart too?" He looked away for a second, then back. "Fine. If you won’t, I won’t force you." He didn’t say another word. He slipped under the covers, still only in his underwear, curling up on one side of the bed. I knew he was angry. Rejection stings, especially when desire is this loud. I got in bed too, but neither of us could sleep. I could feel the distance, and it hurt in ways I wasn’t ready to admit. I wanted to touch him, pull him close. And I could feel him on the edge, aching with frustration, maybe even regret. Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Then he turned toward me, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. His voice dropped lower, softer, almost like he was afraid to be misunderstood. "I’m not using you," he said. "I’m just trying to know you." He paused, then continued with more weight in his tone, "I need time... Do you really think I’d drive all the way from work, exhausted, just for sex only?" He gave a quiet shake of his head, disappointment flickering behind his eyes. "It wasn’t about that. My chest tightened. "I needed to see you," he said, voice cracking just slightly, "To be sure of what I’m feeling. To apologize. To know I’m not crazy for wanting this, for wanting you." I stared at him. "If I still say no tonight... will you hate me?" I asked, barely above a whisper. He looked at me, his gaze unwavering. Then he shook his head slowly. "No," he said. "But... don’t make me sleep far away. Just let me hold you. That’s enough for me tonight." I studied him for a moment, no pressure in his eyes, no resentment. Just quiet hope. I gave a soft nod. But something else stirred between us. It wasn’t just the comfort of being close, it was deeper, heavier... magnetic. Something that made my chest tighten and my resolve begin to blur. The moment he touched me, his warm body pressed lightly against mine, I swallowed every word I had just said. All the reasons to hold back evaporated. His presence alone felt like gravity. I looked up at him slowly, my eyes tracing the curve of his lips, the quiet patience behind his gaze. And then I leaned in. I kissed him. Soft, hesitant at first and he kissed me back. We didn’t rush. There was no hunger to consume, only a need to feel something real. We closed the distance between us, and our lips met again, slower this time. A kind of desperation laced each kiss, but it wasn’t carnal. It was longing. A silent plea to be understood, to be wanted for more than the body. Our mouths moved in sync, breathless, like we were learning each other all over again. Fingers brushed skin with quiet reverence, and the world narrowed to the heat between us. Every touch lingered. Every sigh held weight. And when he slowly undressed me, it wasn’t about desire, it was about letting him see me. All of me. It wasn’t just lust. It was something else fighting its way out. Breathless kisses. Lingering touches. Until I was naked. I placed Zayn in the middle of the bed and climbed over him gently, unsure if we were still trying to resist or finally surrendering. But in that moment... the silence between us said everything. I want him... not just his body, but every part of him. I want to claim Zayn, not through sex, but through something deeper. Through his heart. His quiet. His chaos. His care. This night feels different from all the nights I spent with Nicki. With Nicki, it was always about sex. That was our language, our rhythm, our escape. We didn’t need much else. If there was an empty space or a silent moment, we filled it with our bodies. I loved that part of him, how easy it was to lose myself in him, how familiar it felt to fall into that pattern. But it was only physical. Addictive, yes. But shallow. With Zayn... it’s not like that. He wants sex too, I can feel it, but me? I want something else. Something more. I want the look in his eyes when he lets his guard down. I want the silence between his breaths. I want to see how he sleeps. I want to learn what he’s afraid of, what he hides, what he’ll only whisper in the dark. Even if Nicki walked in this room right now, I wouldn’t reach for him. I wouldn’t crave what we had. Because with Zayn, I’m not just drawn to his body, I’m drawn to the person beneath it. I want to wake up next to him every morning. Watch him stretch, complain, smirk. I want to belong to him, and have him belong to me, not in a way that can be stripped off like clothes, but in a way that lingers even after the lights go out. This isn’t about wanting him. It’s about choosing him. And I do. I choose Zayn. I shut out every other thought... and let myself feel. Every breath. Every inch. Then, slowly, I slid inside him....