Love Novel 70

Jake leaves with the excuse of having to go to the store and get a few things if we are really planning on celebrating
Christmas again in a couple of days.
The tension wears off of me quickly with his departure and I breathe out a steady stream of air. Aiden helps me for a bit
to finish decorating the tree and we sit back down, my impatience running thin.
I really want to speak with Zaid.
I look down at him from my perch on his leg. I lean down and brush my lips against his. “I need to talk to Zaid.”
He stiffens beneath me, and I catch a glimpse of his jaw clenching His grip on my thigh tightens briefly before he lets out
a controlled breath. “I figured.”
He cups the back of my neck, pulling me in for a deeper kiss that leaves me breathless. I take a shaky breath as I stand,
smoothing my hands over my clothes. Aiden doesn’t say anything, but his eyes follow me as I leave the room.
My heart pounds hard in my chest and the anxiety increases with every step I take. I’m up the stairs wondering how I’m
even going to start this conversation, wondering what it is I even want to say.
When I stand outside his door, I notice that it’s slightly ajar.
“Zaid?” I call out, pushing it open and peeking inside.
There’s no answer, and the room looks empty.
“Zaid?” I call again, stepping inside and looking all the way around the room. There’s no sign of him and my stomach
twists.
The sound of the door opening behind me makes me turn around, my heart leaping into my throat.
Zaid has a towel slung low around his hips, water dripping from his wet hair onto his bare chest.
“Oh,” I breathe as my cheeks flush hot.
Zaid raises an eyebrow, stoic as he steps inside. His movements are slow, but I know that’s deliberate, especially when he
brushes past me so close that our shoulders touch. It makes my stomach twist even more nervously and I can’t help but
shudder.
The smell of his soap mixed with the heat from his shower makes my pulse race, and I can’t take my eyes off of him. I
follow him with my gaze and catch sight of the tattoo of the raven behind his ear. I rub my fingers against my scar,
remembering when he told he got that tattoo because it symbolized death.
I try to say something, anything, but my words get caught in my throat when he lets the towel drop. It’s like a reflex, the
way my eyes immediately drop down to his ass.
I don’t miss the way the scars wrap around his back, but nothing can take my attention away from the tight curves of his
ass and thighs.
He looks at me over his shoulder, a smirk lifting his lips.
My cheeks burn, and I whip around so fast I nearly trip over my own feet. I can hear him chuckle behind me as he pulls
on a pair of boxers.
I give myself a moment to catch my breath and then feel his hand on my shoulder. He turns me back to face him. I keep
my chin up and my eyes on his face, refusing to let them drop even for a second.
His dark eyes are filled with amusement, but I can see the edge of tension in his features. “What are you doing here,
love?”
He studies me and I lick my lips, trying to remember just why I am here in the first place. He quirks an eyebrow when I
take a second too long.
“I- um, I thought we should talk,” I whisper.
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Droplets of water trail down his chest, over the burn scars that run along the left side of his ribs. My gaze lingers there for
a moment too long, and he notices.
“We should talk?” he asks, his lips curving into a smirk that sends heat rushing to my cheeks and between my legs.
I swallow, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Yes.”
Zaid chuckles softly, shaking his head as he takes a step closer. “Talk?”
I nod, barely able to control my breathing.
“It’s nice that you’re finally taking me into account,” he mumbles condescendingly.
I blink, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His dark eyes meet mine, a flicker of hurt and frustration flashing behind them. He steps closer again, so close I can feel
his breath across my chest. Before I can react, his hands are on my waist, lifting me effortlessly and setting me on the
edge of his dresser. The cool wood against my legs, through my pants, is a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch.
I gasp, but the sound dies in my throat when he leans in, his face inches from mine. His hands rest on the dresser beside
my thighs, his thumbs pressing into my skin. His eyes drop to my lips for a moment before locking onto mine again.
“It means,” he says, his voice a husky whisper, “that you and my brother made up your minds.”
I swallow, suddenly understanding where this is going.
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“You decided I’d be okay with this arrangement. With you having both of us at your fingertips. But did you ever stop to
think about what I want?”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
“What if,” he continues, his hand sliding to my thigh, his touch light. “It’s me who doesn’t want to share?”
My breath hitches. His gaze pierces straight through me, challenging me, daring me to answer.
“I—” I start, my voice trembling, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t break eye contact.
“You hated me,” He whispers.
All I can do is blink at him because I never hated him.
“When you thought I was the one that deserved to go to juvie for reckless driving, you hated me.”
I shake my head. “No.”
His eyes narrow, and his hands tighten around my thighs. “But now that you know it’s Aiden, you have no problem with
him?”
I breathe out slowly, watching as his fingers find their way to the but