This was a sign, wasn’t it? Clear as vodka, and just as intoxicating. Especially when mixed into the cocktail of today’s success.
Dani thanked Inez Holly again, possibly a little too profusely. Then Inez Holly wrote down the shade of Dani’s lipstick, which was rather thrilling, and took Dani’s email address, because “It’s always good to stay in touch,” which was excessively thrilling, and by the time Dani left those toilets she felt as if she could rule the world.
She strode back into the reception hall and saw Zaf instantly. He was leaning against a faux-marble column, wearing his usual resting bitch face, and for once, she let herself smile soppily at the sight of him. After all, Inez Holly had practically told her it was safe. And Dani was hardly one to avoid such an obvious cosmic hint.
“Hey.” He grinned as she rushed into his arms. “Whoa. You’re cheerful.”
“Yes. I’m going to start jogging.”
“Er . . .”
“I used to run long distance at school,” she said. “I liked it.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“I think I want to try breeding orchids.”
Zaf burst out laughing. “What the hell did you find in the bathroom? Cocaine?”
“Inez Holly,” she told him breathlessly.
“What?” Pure excitement spread over his face. Then he said, “Did you talk to her?” And Dani realized that excitement was for her.
Zaf felt things for her. She knew because she felt things for him, too, bright and terrifying, like a brand-new sun over a world that had been dark for ages. She should be afraid—and part of her was.
But in that moment, she felt so powerful, and he felt so precious, and the thought of letting him go was impossible. Impossible. She couldn’t let it happen.
So instead of answering his question, she pulled back and told him quietly, “You . . . you’re supposed to be my perfect fuck buddy.”
His eyebrows flew up, and his mouth tightened. “Yeah. I know.”
“Which means, amongst other things, not getting attached.”
His expression turned wary. Or maybe guilty.
“The trouble is,” she went on, “I think I’ve gotten quite attached to . . . to the way you make me feel. And to making you feel—oh, I don’t know. I don’t know how I make you feel, but I like trying to make you—smile.” Her voice was choked and strange, and her words tasted like little white lies. If she were an honest woman, she would say, I love to make you smile.
Because the mortifying truth was this: Dani had grappled with ravenous affection for Zafir Ansari far longer than she liked to admit. She’d tried to turn away from it, but suddenly she couldn’t remember why. Zaf wasn’t like anyone else she’d been with, and their relationship didn’t have to fit some romantic ideal she would never measure up to. All they had to do was keep things exactly as they were. If they stayed like this—just like this—everything would be fine.
Everything would be perfect.
She saw the moment he began to understand, his eyes widening. “Danika . . .” he said slowly, “is this you—?”
“I’m not very good at saying things,” she told him firmly. “Okay? I don’t like it. So this is me not saying things. I’m just saying, that’s all.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You’re just saying that you’re not saying?” But there was a slow smile spreading across his face, one that made her cheeks heat.
“We spend a lot of time together,” she told him, “and it’s not awful. So maybe we could . . .” God, she really hadn’t thought this through, and it turned out sheer, shining adoration was incredibly difficult to express out loud.
But apparently, that was okay with Zaf, because he swept in and rescued her. “Maybe we could keep being not-awful?”
“Exactly,” she managed.
“Together,” he pushed. “Without faking it. And without limits.”
“Right,” she said faintly.
“You know what that is,” he murmured, “don’t you, Danika?”
Maybe she did—all right, yes, she absolutely did—but her nerves were already frayed enough. “Baby steps,” she told him firmly. “Okay?”
“Baby steps to . . .”
“To being with you,” she blurted out.
“Glad to hear it,” Zaf said gravely. Then he kissed her with a barely restrained passion that verged on scandalous.
Chapter Sixteen
Despite Dani’s newfound boldness, she was not—and would never be—the sort to make a vomit-inducing speech about Zaf’s many virtues and her many feelings. Not unless they were both trapped on a train hanging off the edge of a cliff, and therefore moments from gruesome death, or something along those lines. So when they left the reception, instead of turning to him with some romantic declaration, she dragged him into an outdoor alcove where students kept their bikes, and kissed his gorgeous face off. Again.
Judging by the heat in his eyes before their mouths met, he didn’t mind.
Kissing Zaf was like drinking ice water in a heat wave: slow sips might work, but hungry, gasping gulps felt better. When Dani’s lips brushed his, every pleasure center in her body flashed firework-bright. She slid her hands into his hair, pressed herself closer against him because she just couldn’t stop, and explored that solemn mouth without restraint. He tasted of sweet, dark honey, of peace and quiet comfort, of fresh white sheets and dawn. He tasted of things no man should, as if he were something greater. Something more. Something she’d been searching for.
Dani pulled back. “Let’s go home.”
“Definitely on board with that.”
“To your place. Didn’t you tell me you’re closer to campus than I am?”
He grinned. “And I’m so irresistible, you just can’t wait?”
“Don’t be smug.” But she liked him smug.
Fifteen minutes later they slammed into his flat, and Dani was pushing him around once more—against the door, this time. Since she knew from experience that she couldn’t actually move Zaf, that meant he was letting her. The thought sparked another burst of tenderness even as lust set her alight. He looked down at her with lips parted and kiss-swollen, his hair a mess from her hands, and he was simultaneously sexier and more divine than anything she’d ever seen.
She sank to her knees without conscious thought. Only need drove her now.
Mine, mine, mine.
“Danika,” he breathed, and cupped her face as she undid his belt. “Fuck. You’re going to ruin me.” But he made the prospect sound like heaven, like a gift.
She undid his zipper, shoved aside every barrier in her way until he was naked from the waist down, his cock hard and thick and dripping. Then he dragged his shirt off over his head, and the sight of him completely bare while she stayed fully clothed made her dizzy with want.
She wrapped a hand around his shaft, hot and velvety with that fine, thrumming vein along the underside. Then, since they’d somehow never done this before, she said, “Not to ruin the mood—”
“Literally impossible,” he choked out.
“—but don’t forget about my overenthusiastic gag reflex.”
His laughter was faint and cracked. “Never going to forget you coughing up noodles on my lap.”
“Oh, be quiet,” she muttered, her cheeks warm. Then she brought up a second fist to join the first, until just a few inches of his cock remained uncovered. She eased the fat, gleaming head into her mouth, squeezing with her hands as her tongue flicked out to taste him, and the noise Zaf made sounded inhuman.
That low, ragged growl zipped straight to her clit like a tiny electric shock. The taste of him, that salty musk, teased her tongue.
She sucked.
He hissed out a breath. “Holy shit, yeah. Sweetheart—” The word broke. She looked up to find him staring down at her, something endless and unnamable in his eyes. She could see his restraint in the pulse thrumming at the base of his throat, the rigid line of his hips as he tried not to thrust deeper—and God, God, she fucking loved i
t.
Dani released his cock with a pop, grabbed his arse with both hands, and felt more of that delicious control. Bent her head to lick and suck the weight of his balls, heard him turn the air blue, and felt pure, filthy power. The sparkling, sensitive something between her thighs grew more and more intense with every curse he spat out. When his shaft was slick and his voice was rough and frenzied, she palmed his cock again and stroked him hard, kissed and sucked his tip, and watched him lose it.
“Shit,” he gasped. “Shit, you’re so fucking—keep—” He reached down, grabbed the neckline of her dress, and pulled hard. She heard, or felt, a slight rip, and then the fabric loosened and her bra was exposed. “Sorry, sorry,” he panted, even as he pushed down her bra cup. Her breast spilled free and he squeezed the aching flesh, an unapologetic grope that felt dirty and presumptuous and absolutely delicious. Then his thumb swept over her stiff nipple and she moaned, her blood heating and her patience melting away.
She released his dick, tried to stand, and realized her knees were weak. Zaf picked her up a second later, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Perfect,” he told her. “You’re perfect.” It wasn’t the first time he’d said it. But this time, she was almost sure he meant it.
Then he kissed her hungrily, his teeth tugging at her bottom lip, and she felt him put her down on something cold and hard. A table, she realized, as he pulled away to find his wallet. He’d taken her into what must be the closest room—the kitchen—and put her on the table. Dani quite agreed with, and indeed approved of, his sense of urgency. Then he was back, rolling on a condom and pushing up her skirt, dragging off her thong and tugging her close.
He eased a finger into her wetness and she took him easily, found herself begging mindlessly for more. So he gave her another, and another, until she was finally full of him. Zafir, invading her body, stroking all the soft, shivering flesh inside her as he murmured against her mouth, “Want you so bad, Dan. Want you, just want you—”
“I know,” she panted. “I know.”
He groaned, and then his fingers left her, and she was lost for a second before he replaced them with his cock, splitting her open slow and steady. She rocked her hips, leaning back on her hands, spreading her thighs wider as the pressure turned her liquid from the inside out. “Yes. Oh my God, yes.”
“You’re mine,” he told her.
“I’m yours,” she said, and nothing had ever felt so good.
* * *
Zaf was losing control and he didn’t care, because Danika was right there with him. She sobbed his name as she took him deep, sinking her nails into his shoulders, vulnerable to him in a way she’d never been before, not once. When he looked her in the eyes, she didn’t flinch away. She met his gaze steadily, and dragged him closer, as if she wanted every fucking part of him and couldn’t even pretend otherwise.
Something inside him snapped, shifted, transformed, and all he could do was fuck her, fuck her, fuck her.
Zaf pounded into her with mindless hunger, her every breathless moan urging him on. He couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t stop his hands from sliding over her thighs, stroking her spread sex, running up over her torso to her tits, her throat, her face. Her fucking face, mouth open, brow furrowed, those impossible eyes pinned to him.
“Say my name,” he grunted, like some kind of animal, and she said—
“Zafir,” like petals floating over water, and then she pressed her palm flat against his chest and he swore his heart felt the touch. “Mine,” she told him softly. “You’re mine, too, you know.”
He kissed her, cool mint and desperation.
When he couldn’t get close enough, deep enough, he pushed Dani onto her back and climbed halfway across the table himself. Ignored the way it groaned, and shoved into her hot, wet cunt until he couldn’t see straight. So good, so fucking good. When he thrust against that tender place inside her and she screamed and squeezed around his cock—oh, fuck, he wanted more of that. So he reached between their bodies and rubbed her swollen clit, tight little circles the way she liked, and kept the angle of his hips just right.
“Come on, love,” he panted.
“You can’t—tell me to—”
“Come.”
Her sob of pleasure ripped him open. He felt her pussy spasm around his cock as she climaxed, and then—
And then he came harder than he ever fucking had, which wasn’t exactly surprising, and the table collapsed beneath them, which was.
Chapter Seventeen
Dani had been distantly aware of an ominous creaking sound, but in the midst of various emotional revelations—God, I’m in love with Zaf’s voice, and Wow, the way he kisses me slowly while fucking me senseless is life-ruiningly perfect, for example—she hadn’t really paid any attention. She certainly noticed, however, when the sturdy-looking table groaned dramatically and one of its legs gave out.
Luckily for her, she happened to be sleeping with a former athlete who had unholy reflexes. Zaf wrapped an arm around her and dragged them both backward—away from the collapsed table leg and sliding tabletop. They ended up on the floor, him clearly winded, Dani safe and fairly comfortable on his massive chest. His quick movements were especially impressive given he’d only just finished coming, but she was too dazed and confused to offer appropriate praise.
After a long moment of silence, during which Zaf caught his breath and Dani wondered if anything this awkward had ever happened in the history of the world, he finally spoke. His first words were, predictably, “Fuck’s sake.”
Dani had always thought sex became boring and unbearably solemn once you, er, felt things for someone, but that clearly wasn’t true when it came to her feelings for Zaf, because she took one look at his familiar, grumpy scowl and burst out laughing.
“Hey,” he said, but he was grinning. “I blame you for this.”
“Me? You’re the one who put me on the bloody table!”
“And you’re the one who’s so sexy I forgot about, you know, physics and shit.” He ran a hand over her hair, down her spine, all the way to the swell of her arse. Which he then grabbed. “You okay?”
“Is this you checking for damage?”
He winked.
She sighed and pretended she wasn’t utterly thrilled by everything about this. But she was. She always was. Whenever they were together, whenever he touched her, all she could feel was happy.
Ick.
She looked over her shoulder at the drunken, three-legged table leaning against the floor. “Sorry about that. Should we—?”
“The only thing we should do right now,” he said firmly, “is go to bed.”
Dani hesitated, because—We. Bed. Hmm. For more sex, or for something . . . else? Clearly old habits died hard, because despite her best intentions, the idea of spending the night with someone she cared about for the first time in forever made her gut clench with nerves.
But that was silly. She was fearless. She was chasing joy. She shoved her apprehension into a box and tried not to notice that the lid wouldn’t quite lock.
Zaf must have caught her uncertainty, because he helped her to her feet with a solemn expression. “It’s very late, Danika. You can’t go home on your own.”
Laughter chased away the shadows in her chest. “Zaf, it’s barely seven o’clock.”
“You’re talking too much.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her off to the bedroom.
And she let him.
* * *
It was dawn when Dani woke. For a moment, staring blearily across an expanse of deep blue pillow, she wasn’t quite sure where she was. Then, slowly, sensations trickled in: the weight of a heavy thigh slung over her waist. The slow dance of fingertips across the bare skin of her back.
“Zaf,” she whispered into the churchlike silence.
His voice was low and sleep-roughened. “Good morning, Danika.”
The way he said her name, lazy and tender, made her smile into the pillow—but beneath that pleasure, a hin
t of panic flared. Deciding to be brave and getting swept up in the moment was one thing—but she hadn’t woken up beside another person in years, and she’d never wanted another person in quite the same way she wanted Zaf. Maybe she was overthinking things slightly, but . . . but she wasn’t entirely sure what was supposed to happen next, and fuck, she didn’t want to get anything horribly wrong.
Really, darling? You’re twisting yourself in knots over how to say good morning? The voice in her head sounded oddly like Gigi, and as always, Gigi was right. Dani’s worries were ridiculous. This was why she hated relationship bullshit: it turned her into an uncertain, alien mess.
“Did you sleep okay?” Zaf asked, as if all this was normal—and the sweet familiarity of his voice almost made it so. Almost.
“Yes,” she said, because it was true. “Did you?” The answer seemed to matter more than it should, but then, everything mattered more than it should with Zaf.
“Yeah. I sleep pretty well ever since you gave me that charm. And I think you wore me out last night.”
The way that made her smile was sickening. Sickening! But she couldn’t quite stop.
Then Zaf asked softly, “Will you look at me?” His soothing, barely there touch on her back faded away.
“Of course I will!” Dani rolled over so fast that she got tangled in the sheets like a blushing duvet sausage. But it didn’t matter, because she thought she’d heard something like trepidation in his voice, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want anything bad or sad for him, not even if it meant maintaining her own comfort. Which seemed a disturbing and potentially dangerous outlook, but she’d worry about that some other time.
Fortunately, Zaf didn’t look upset by the time she faced him. In fact, he was clearly trying not to laugh. “Did you know you hog the sheets?”
“Shut up,” she muttered. God, he was even handsome first thing in the morning, which was both pleasing and extremely irritating. The shy dawn light suited him, making his brown skin glow. His bedhead was incredibly sexy, and the sleepy slowness of his eyes made her blood heat.
Take a Hint, Dani Brown Page 23
