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He gasps, arching into the contact. His hands slide into my hair, gripping tight.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” I whisper against his skin.

“It’s not enough.” Zane pulls my face back down to his. “Nothing with you is ever enough.”

He kisses me hungry. He kisses me like he needs to make up for fourteen years of starvation in a single night. We roll across the mat, a tangle of limbs and heavy breathing. I map the broad expanse of his chest through his clothes. I feel the hard ridge of his stomach muscles flex under my palm.

His thigh hooks over my hip. The friction of our bodies pressing together sends a sharp jolt of arousal through me. He groans into my mouth, his hips rocking upward, entirely involuntary.

I pull back.

My breathing is erratic. I can barely hold still. I press my forehead against his, closing my eyes, forcing my runaway heart to slow down.

Zane freezes beneath me. His hands tighten on my shoulders. “Did I do it wrong?”

I let out a short, breathless laugh. I open my eyes and look down at his flushed, beautiful face. “No. You did it perfectly. But we are stopping.”

Panic flashes in the gold rings of his irises. “Why?”

“Because you are fragile right now, Butler. You’re brand new to this.” I shift my weight, rolling off him so we are lying side by side on the training mat, staring up at the corrugated roof. “And I refuse to let your first real time be a panicked hookup on a sweaty gym floor at one in the morning.”

Zane stares at the ceiling. His chest rises and falls rapidly. He lets out a long, shuddering exhale, and the tension drains from his rigid muscles.

He turns his head to look at me. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, I got that.” I prop myself up on one elbow, resting my head in my hand. “But you are here. You walked through the door. That’s step one.”

“What is step two?”

“We figure it out together. No pressure. No timeline.” I reach out, tracing the rough line of stubble on his jaw with my thumb. He leans into the touch instantly. “Whatever you are ready for. We take it at your pace.”

Zane stares at me. He studies my face like I’m speaking a foreign language he desperately wants to learn. “Why are you being so patient with me? After the way I treated you. After the press conference, the fight, the medical room. I ran away.”

“Because I know exactly what it feels like to be standing where you are right now.” I let my thumb graze his lower lip. “And because…”

I hesitate. I’ve spent my entire life guarding my heart, protecting the vulnerable parts of myself from a world that wants to exploit them. But sitting here in the quiet aftermath of his confession, I want him to know.

“Because I think you might be worth waiting for.”

Zane’s breath catches. A fresh wave of color rises high on his cheekbones. He covers my hand with his own, pressing my palm firmly against his cheek.

“I’m probably going to fuck this up,” he warns me, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Probably.” I flash him a grin. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

A genuine smile breaks across his face. It’s small, a little uncertain, and I want to see it again.

I stand up, extending a hand down to him.

He looks at my outstretched palm, then up at my face. He takes it. I haul him to his feet.

“Come on,” I say, grabbing my gym bag from the corner. “You look like you haven’t slept in a month.”

We leave Oath together.

I lock the heavy metal door behind us. The night air is crisp, biting at my damp skin, but I hardly notice. Zane doesn’t walk to his expensive car. He falls into step beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as we navigate the quiet, streetlight-dappled sidewalks of Ravenwood Hollow.

He doesn’t go back to his penthouse above the polished chrome of Ironside MMA. He walks with me to my small, cramped studio apartment.