—Natasha's POV—
Every stroke, every flick, sent waves of heat pooling low in my stomach. Our kiss deepened, tongues sliding and twisting in a feverish dance—neither of us willing to pull away, both lost in the raw hunger between us. My fingers traced the hard planes of his chest, slick with sweat, every ridge and scar a testament to battles fought and endured.
"Don't stop, Zane," I panted, fists curling at the bed, nails cutting crescents into my palms. "Please...don't....."
I couldn’t stop touching him—didn’t want to. His kiss consumed me, stealing my breath, my thoughts, until there was nothing but the heat of his mouth and the hammering of my pulse.
When we finally broke apart, gasping and wrecked, he didn’t retreat. Instead, he pressed his forehead to mine, his ragged breaths min
