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I know I should refuse. I should walk away, maintain the professional distance I've been clinging to. But my feet are already moving, drawn to her like a moth to flame.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathes Zoe in warm light, accentuating the delicate curve of her neck and the inviting fullness of her lips. As I ease myself onto the edge of the bed, her scent envelops me—a light vanilla. My body responds instantly, a low growl threatening to escape my throat.
I force myself to look away, but my eyes are drawn back to her like magnets. The rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the way her tank top clings to her curves—it's torture of the sweetest kind. My fingers itch to trace the line of her collarbone, to tangle in her hair and pull her close.
"Alright," I concede, my voice rougher than I intended.
I bend down, unlacing my boots and slipping them off. The carpet is soft beneath my feet as I pad towards the bed. Hesitating for just a moment, I lower myself onto the mattress, feeling it give under my weight. I stretch out, hyper-aware of every inch between Zoe and me.
The mattress dips as Zoe shifts closer, and I can feel the heat radiating from her body. It takes every ounce of willpower not to reach out and touch her, to claim her as mine. The wolf inside me howls in frustration, recognizing its mate so near yet forbidden.
As we lay in charged silence, I'm acutely aware of every small movement, every breath. The soft brush of her arm against mine sends electricity coursing through my veins. I clench my fists,nails digging into my palms as I fight the urge to pull her into my arms.
Liam's face flashes in my mind, a painful reminder of why I can't give in to this overwhelming desire. But with each passing moment, his importance fades. The bond I feel with Zoe grows stronger, threatening to overshadow everything else. I find myself caring less and less about my brother's hurt feelings, consumed by the need to make Zoe mine.
I turn to face her, our eyes locking. The depth of emotion I see reflected there nearly undoes me. In that moment, I know I'm fighting a losing battle against my heart.
Zoe smiles, a soft, sleepy thing that tugs at something deep in my chest. She settles back down, curling onto her side to face me. I lay rigid, hyper-aware of every point where our bodies almost touch.
"Thank you," she whispers, her eyes already drifting closed. "For everything. For keeping me safe."
Her words hit me like a physical blow. The trust in her voice, the vulnerability... it's almost more than I can bear. I want to gather her in my arms, to shield her from every threat, real or imagined. Instead, I simply nod, not trusting my voice.
As Zoe's breathing evens out, I allow myself to relax slightly. I study her face, memorizing every curve and plane. The delicate arch of her eyebrows, the soft curve of her cheek, the fullness of her lips... she's beautiful in a way that goes beyond mere physical attraction.
My wolf whines, urging me closer. To my horror, I realize I'm leaning in, drawn by her scent. I jerk back, cursing myself silently. This is dangerous territory.
I should leave. Now that she's asleep, there's no reason for me to stay. But as I start to rise, Zoe stirs, reaching out in her sleep. Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining, and I freeze.
The contact sends a wave of warmth through me, settling something restless in my soul. It feels right in a way I can't explain, can't fight against. With a resigned sigh, I ease myself back onto the bed, careful not to disturb her.
Just a few more minutes, I tell myself. Then I'll go.
But as the minutes tick by, my own exhaustion begins to catch up with me. The warmth of Zoe's hand in mine, the soft sound of her breathing... it's soothing in a way I haven't experienced in years.
My eyes grow heavy, and I find myself fighting to stay awake. I should move, should put some distance between us. But Zoe's grip tightens slightly in her sleep, as if sensing my intention to leave.
Just a few more minutes, I think hazily. Just until I'm sure she's okay...
The last thing I register before sleep claims me is the comforting weight of Zoe's hand in mine, and the realization that I'm in far deeper than I ever intended to be.
???
I wake with a start, the morning light filtering through the gauzy curtains of Zoe's bedroom. For a moment, I'm disoriented, the scent of vanilla and the warmth of a body next to mine throwing me off balance. Then it all comes rushing back—the long night atthe construction site, the drive back to Zoe's apartment, the way she looked at me with those trusting eyes and asked me to stay.
Zoe is still asleep, her breaths even and deep. I'm acutely aware of her hand, small and warm, tucked into mine. The simple contact sends a jolt of desire coursing through me, a stark reminder of just how much I want her.
I should leave. I should extract myself from this tangled web of temptation and go home to face the music with Liam. But as I watch Zoe sleep, her pink hair fanned out across the pillow, all rational thought flees my mind.
Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine with a sleepy clarity that takes my breath away. "Marcus," she murmurs, her voice husky with sleep. "You're still here."
There's a question in her tone, a hint of vulnerability that calls to something primal within me. "I am," I reply, my voice rough with unspoken desire.
A small smile plays on her lips as she stretches languidly, the sheets slipping down to reveal the smooth expanse of her shoulder. "Good," she says simply, her hazel eyes locked onto mine.
The air between us crackles with tension, a silent acknowledgment of the pull that's been building since the moment we met. I know I should resist, should honor the bonds of brotherhood and pack loyalty. But as Zoe's hand traces a path up my arm, all thoughts of duty and honor fly out the window.
"Zoe," I begin, intending to voice my hesitation, my internal struggle. But the words die in my throat as she leans in, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss so sweet, so tentative, that it nearly undoes me.
