“Actually, you were helping me out. You kept me from getting kidnapped, remember? That’s why you got shot. Come on, let’s get this over with. You believe in this man. You’ve always looked up to him, and I did see his face when he was a child, watching over all of you, Player. He cares deeply. He’s protective. He actually loves you.”
“I know, baby, that’s what I’m afraid of.” Player reached out to run his fingers along her tightly woven braid, feeling the thick silk of it. Without warning, feelings welled up out of nowhere, intense, like a volcano. So unexpected. So powerful, shaking him.
“You know our relationship isn’t about sex, Zyah.”
Her long, thick lashes veiled the expression in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Don’t. We have to do this thing with Czar and worry about everything else later. I mean it. I can only concentrate on one thing at a time right now.”
He found himself smiling, his fingers on her stubborn little chin. Anat was so right. This woman was well worth fighting for, and he was going to fight with everything in him. He was a survivor. He’d fought every damn day of his life to survive. Being with Zyah meant surviving. Not because she would save his sanity, or because he’d have the best damn sex in the world, but because she made him happy. It was really that simple. He was better with her. And he hoped she would be better with him. His campaign was starting immediately, and thankfully, he had an entire club that would back him.
Leaning down, he rubbed her lips softly with his. The contact was barely there, but he felt it all the way to his toes. She was potent. They were potent. She was perfect. His. Their chemistry was off the charts, and electricity instantly arced between them, a bright, hot connection so strong he thought he could see little sparks dancing off their skin. Zyah hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then her arms slid around his neck and her body leaned into his. She simply surrendered, giving herself to him, her lips parting, letting him in, while dynamite detonated between them.
He let the explosive chemistry catch them both on fire and then deliberately gentled the kiss, keeping the heat, the flames, but introducing tenderness, something he’d never known with another human being. That foreign emotion felt as necessary to him as breathing, adding to the fire of their kiss, turning it into something he’d never expected. The heat rushed through his veins and settled in his groin, but at the same time, it took over his body, moving through him to encompass his heart, embedding there, digging deep, deeper still, until he swore she was in his soul.
She gasped, her hands sliding to his chest, palms applying pressure to try to separate them. Obediently but with great reluctance, he lifted his lips and leaned his forehead against hers. “You felt it. I know you did.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just go and get this over with. You’re getting tired. I am tired. I have to work tomorrow, and we’re keeping Blythe and Czar up,” she reminded.
Player gave in to the inevitable. He wasn’t going to repair the damage he’d done in one night. He’d held her at arm’s length due to his own stupidity. Now he had to make a confession to Czar and find a way to keep her, as well as his club, safe. Then, with Zyah, figure out just what was happening to him.
“Thanks for sticking with me,” he said as they once again got on the Harley. “Very few people would have.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “Very few people had Mama Anat as an example.”
Player knew that much was true.
Czar answered the door, his gaze moving over them, taking both of them in, seeing too much. It didn’t matter that Player had cultivated the mask that every club member had—no expression, flat, cold eyes—Czar knew him too well. He saw that he was stressed. He could read possession and the protective way Player kept Zyah close beneath his shoulder. Worse, the way he held himself, ready for trouble. That told Czar more than Player wanted him to know, but then Czar was president of Torpedo Ink because he had earned their respect for a lot of reasons.
“Cold tonight. Blythe has something hot for you, Zyah,” Czar greeted. “And a fire going in the other room. Let me take you to her.”
Player started to protest. He didn’t want them separated. Czar flashed him one look that stopped him cold. Zyah turned her face up to his. “A hot drink and a fire sound perfect, Player. And visiting with Blythe would be wonderful. I’ve heard so much about her. I’m sorry we came so late, Czar.”