Raze & Reap (62 page)

I held Zaal tighter. My affection for this man swelled to fill my every cell. He was perfect for me. In every single way.

“She would make me dance,” Zaal suddenly rasped, breaking the heavy silence, and turning the direction of the tense topic.

I lifted my head and asked, “Who?”

His eyes narrowed as he thought something over in his head and he answered, “My grandmama.” His eyes then widened. “She is how I know English. She had lived in America before she married my grandpapa.”

A smile broke on my face. “I always wondered how you knew English.”

“It was her. She said to lead the family we should know English. And Russian.”

My chin rested on Zaal's packed stomach, and I asked, “She taught you to dance?”

I could see Zaal searching his mind for more memories, when he said, “Yes. She said we needed to be real gentlemen.” He exhaled like the memory took effort to remember. “We would dance to her favorite song, a song she heard in America.”

“What was it? The song?” I pushed eagerly.

He racked his brain and said, “I'll Walk … I'll Walk…” His lips pursed and his forehead creased as he pushed the memory. Then his beautiful green eyes lit up. “Alone,” he said. “‘I'll Walk … Alone.'”

My breathing paused in disbelief.

“What?” Zaal asked, my face obviously showing my surprise.

“It was one of my
babushka
's favorites. It's by Dinah Shore.”

I lifted myself from Zaal's arms and reached for my phone on the coffee table. I scrolled to my music and found the track. Zaal sat up in interest, and as I turned my head, I just had to pause.

He was so damn beautiful.

My heart raced as he sat there in black sweats and a white T-shirt. His olive-skinned muscles stood out against the paleness of the white and his long hair hung in front of his face. I loved his hair, I really did, but I loved his face more.

Zaal was staring at me. “What?” he asked.

“You're so handsome,” I said quietly, and felt the blush build on my cheeks.
“Takoy krasivyy.”

Zaal regarded me strangely, as if he had no idea why another person would ever regard someone as handsome. I sat with that thought for a second, and realized, he probably didn't.

Getting to my feet, I walked toward him. Zaal sat up looking at me. His sitting down was almost the same height as me standing.

Reaching up to my hair, I pulled on the band keeping it in a ponytail. My long hair fell down over my shoulders and I held it in my hand.

Zaal frowned. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Can I do something?” I asked. Zaal regarded me warily. I leaned down and ran the back of my hand across his face. “I love your long hair, Zaal, but I want to see your face.”

The frown never moved, but when I raked my hands through his hair, his hands laid on my thighs, his eyes closed, and a low hum sounded in his chest.

I smiled at him and gathered his hair to a knot at the top of his skull. Finished, and wanting to survey my work, I stepped back, and all the air escaped my lungs.

Zaal was looking up at me, and I felt like I was seeing him for the first time. With his long black hair brushed off his face, his regally beautiful face—high cheekbones, dark eyebrows, full lips—staring up at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world, a stark reality hit home.

I'd more than fallen for Zaal. He now completely owned me. In every possible way. He was in my every cell, my every breath, my every heartbeat.

Zaal rose to his feet, and with his newly visible face, I stared up at him, struck mute and lost for words.

Zaal leaned down, and giving me exactly what I needed, met my lips with his. It was soft, gentle, and more meaningful than any rushed, passionate embrace could be; it told me everything I needed to know. I owned him, too.

Zaal pulled back, and sliding my hand down to his, I asked, “Would you dance with me?”

Zaal stilled. His perfectly framed eyebrows pulled down. “There is no music,” he rasped out.

Moving to the sofa, without breaking his hold, I pressed play on my phone, the device connecting to the house's speakers.

In seconds the crackling sounds from the 1940s old recording drifted through the speakers. Zaal sucked in a quick gulp of breath, his eyes fluttering closed. I laid my hands on his broad chest, the beat of his heart hammering underneath. At my touch, Zaal opened his eyes, his gaze glossy.

Dinah Shore began to sing about her love, who was at war, and her promise that she would wait for him, that she would never love anyone else, never give up her heart. As those words filled up the room, Zaal reached for my hands, laying one on his shoulder, and clasped the other one in his hand.

Zaal began to lead, his feet moving slowly and unsurely at first, but as the song played on, he became more steady and self-assured.

Zaal's eyes never left mine, something indescribable passing through them as he moved me around the room.

I lay my cheek to his chest, lost in this moment of simplicity and joy, a rare occurrence in our complicated life.

“I remember this,” he said quietly, and my eyes drifted to a close. “I remember being good at this,” he continued, and huffed a single laugh. “And I remember Anri was not. He would always step on Grandmama's toes.”

I listened to every word he spoke, relishing the happiness in his voice in this moment of pain-free joy. Zaal's arm around my waist squeezed me tighter and I could hear his heart hammering.

Zaal's breathing increased, and his stilled feet brought us to a stop. Opening my eyes, the final notes of the song coming to an end, I lifted my eyes. Zaal was staring down at me, and the look on his face made my stomach flip.

I watched him silently as he brought my hand to his chest. His long lashes blinked. Then blinked again. And with the slight parting of his lips, he said, “My heart, it is full, Talia. It is full, for you.” My throat closed as those heavenly words slipped from his soul. “It used to be empty and weak, now, now it beats strong again.”

Zaal leaned down. With the gentlest, most feather-light of touches, his soft lips brushed against mine. And I savored his taste. I savored his hands on my back. I savored it all. I wanted time to stop. I wanted time to freeze, to hold us captive in this moment, in this very moment.

I never wanted it to end.

The ambient sound of the speaker hissed in the background. Drawing back from Zaal, I pressed my hand to his cheek, and said, “I want to make love to you.”

Zaal's forehead creased with confusion, but standing on my toes, I kissed those creases away, and whispered, “Come with me.”

Linking his hand in mine, I led him out of the living room and up the stairs. No words were exchanged as we approached my bedroom. Not one sentence uttered as we entered the door. I locked us inside.

Walking to the bed, Zaal followed behind. I turned, and I trembled. Everything about tonight felt bigger somehow. More important. The air around us had thickened, making it impossible to breathe. I knew, I just knew that it was because I was in love.

I was in love with Zaal Kostava.

We'd bared our pasts, we'd fought our fates. And at the end, left over was only the purest form of love. Of need. Of
us
.

Like Zaal had said,
our empty hearts were now full.

Zaal's hands were fisted at his sides. His eyes were luminescent with need. As he watched me, I lifted my shirt over my head. Reaching behind me, I unclasped my bra. The material fell away. Zaal's eyes focused on my heavy, bare breasts.

The tension thickened, pulsed, clogged our very air.

Inhaling a long breath, I snapped the buttons on my jeans and rolled them down my legs. A hiss tore from Zaal when my panties came down, too.

A growl sounded in Zaal's chest. I stepped toward him, until I was flush against his chest. Zaal watched me, never taking his eyes from mine.

Laying my hands on his waist, I lifted his shirt over his head. Once removed, Zaal's thick muscled body met my eyes. I felt my pussy clench and wetness spread between my thighs.

Yet Zaal stood still. Stood still and let me take the lead, let me undress him, let me love him like he deserved to be loved.

My hands drifted to the waist of his pants, and I pulled them down, Zaal's hard long cock springing into view. He kicked his pants off his feet.

Now both naked, I lifted my hand and ran it down his chest. As my fingers lingered on his toned and defined V, I continued until his hand wrapped around mine.

Walking backward, my legs hit the bed. I climbed on, Zaal's huge frame following me. Lying down on my back, Zaal's nostrils flared as he crawled over me. His body heat melted against mine and I held out my hands, welcoming him into my arms.

Spreading my legs, Zaal lay in between. His body kissed mine and I felt his length lay flush against my pussy. I moaned at the contact. Zaal, with his long hair brushed back off his face. There were no words.

I could read every part of Zaal's face.

Could see every hungry expression igniting his dark and raw features.

Gripping Zaal's wide shoulders, I pulled him down to crush his mouth to mine. The kiss started off slow, teasing, skin brushing against skin. Then as the tension built, so did the kiss.

On a low groan, Zaal pushed his tongue into my mouth. His hips moved, rocked against my pussy, his hard length dragging over my clit.

“Zaal!” I cried out, my lips breaking from his mouth on a gasp.

But Zaal's hand pressed on my cheek, his touch forcing me to stare into his green eyes. His hips rolled some more, and I was ready. He was flush against me, and I could feel he was, too.

His eyes were fixed on mine.

Mine were fixed on his.

I had to have him.

He had to have me.

Lifting my hand to smooth over Zaal's cheek, I whispered, “Make love to me.”

Zaal studied my face, and skirting his hand down to my thigh, he spread me further, and slowly slid inside.

Zaal's teeth gritted as he pushed forward, inch by long thick inch. I wrapped my hands around his neck, and a pained moan fell from my lips as he filled me to the hilt.

I gasped at the full feeling, my skin damp as Zaal's hard body rubbed against mine. He was all consuming. Taking me. Owning me. Completely possessing me in every possible way.

“Talia,” he groaned as his hips built up speed. But he never looked away. Our eyes stayed fixed as I met him thrust for thrust, my hips rolling to feel him more and more.

Zaal leaned down, his arms encasing my head. I bathed in his warm breath as my hands lay flat against his back. Zaal increased his speed, my pussy gripping tightly to his cock. I breathed in his scent—musk and sweat and Zaal. All Zaal.

My skin felt on fire, every part of me glowing with life.

Grunts and groans spilled from Zaal's mouth. And I drank them all in. His face tensed and his mouth parted, breathing in and out in short sharp pants.

Then Zaal's hips hit harder. I wouldn't last. It was too much. This intensity. The look in his beautiful green eyes. The look of pure need, of pure love in his face.

I didn't think it could be like this.

I never knew. I never knew it was possible to feel this strongly.

Shivers ghosted down my back as tingles shot up my spine. My clit pulsed and Zaal's cock within me brushed over my G-spot deep inside. My pussy clenched and my nipples hardened, my back arching off the bed.

Zaal's nostrils flared and his lips tightened. His thrusts pumped faster still, and I knew this was it, knew he was about to fall … fall over the edge with me.

On a cry, and a final hard thrust by Zaal, my pussy clamped down on his dick and I burst apart at the seams. Stars glittered behind my eyes as I came, the force of my orgasm causing Zaal to bellow out a roar.

Zaal's chest was damp with sweat, and he dropped his head to the crook of my neck. My eyes fluttered closed, Zaal's length still jerking, grunts escaping his mouth. His breathing evened out and I placed my hand on the back of his head; I had to hold him close. I needed to anchor myself. My heart felt full to the brim with love, so full I felt I needed his touch to keep in control.

And I wanted him to know.

I wanted him to know how he'd changed me.

“Baby,” I whispered. Zaal's head turned slightly to the side, his heavy breathing still labored. I guided his head higher, until his bright jade eyes were looking right into mine. My heart stuttered at the wild and primal sight of loose strands of long hair falling over his face. They had freed themselves from his knot and I had to slowly inhale at the sight.

Taking a deep breath, knowing I had Zaal's full attention, I placed my palm on his cheek, and confessed, “I love you, Zaal. I completely and wholeheartedly adore you.”

Zaal's full lips parted.

His eyebrows pulled together. “Love?” he asked. His green eyes searched mine as if he could find the answer in their depths.

His short breaths warmed my face, and I explained, “It's a feeling. It's that fullness you feel in your heart, your soul. The tightness and breathlessness you feel in your chest. It's passion.” I moved a hand to lay over his chest, directly over his racing heart. “It's the need, the absolute need to be with another, like this, joined, unwilling to be separated for anything.” I blinked away the mist from my eyes, and added, “It's you and I, Zaal.

“Love,”
he whispered, rolling his tongue around the word.

“Most males and females with full hearts, hearts full for each other, say, ‘I love you,' and ‘I love you, too.'”

“Mmm…,” he replied, his head slightly shaking as if he disapproved. And my heart sank. A raw surge of pain making me breathless. He didn't love me back.

Zaal's skin had flushed as he watched me, a kaleidoscope of emotions flitting across his face. Lifting his hand, he pressed it over his heart, and then over mine. “You are … for me,” he stated, those familiar words, so simple yet so powerful, sounding like heaven to my soul.