Her mind failed to think of just one particular thing at that moment. Hell! It thought of nothing. Rina couldn’t bear to do any other thing than remain in that moment, scared that if she blinked, it would all be gone, but at the same time, uncertain if Zayn’s heady scent slowly intoxicating her, wouldn’t leave her in puddles at his feet, knowing fully well where he stood.
All of this was mere paper to him, on whose pages Rina was yet to append her signature, or even go through the terms he had so boldly announced. Yet, no matter how hard her rationality screamed at her to bring an end to that moment, to step away from Zayn and his all too alluring self, Rina found that hard to do.
She opened her eyes as his whispers tingled the skin on her ear, sending shocks to her brain. Their eyes met through the mirror before them, and Rina was stuck in the moment. She swallowed, but her gaze didn’t waver, soft, reflecting a need that has spanned through months, a tinge of uncertainty wrapped in that need, her lips slightly parted, and her hair that damn hair made for the runway still in place, shinning under the dim lights, packed away from the square of her shoulders.
A glass of dirty martini sounded second-place to that moment. At least, as far as Rina was concerned, she would rather stay that way, than have Zayn leave to get her the drink. But perhaps, that had been his plan all along, to help get her undressed and then bring her the drink. Rina hated the fact that she felt this way with Zayn vulnerable and willing. It was one of the reasons she was so angry when her reputation got soiled by those baseless rumors, as Rina never remembered one occasion where she allowed herself to be that. She was conscious of who she was, and never let that slip out of her reach.
“You seem to take a god-awful amount of time trying to decide if you want a dirty martini or not,” Zayn whispered again, his hands moving up to her hair. Carefully and slowly, he took out the pins and clips holding it in place, allowing them to drop to the rug in a silent whisper. Rina’s hair cascaded down her back in waves, and she moved her head from habit, shaking the hair out.
She saw Zayn sniff from his reflection in the mirror, and for a split second, wondered what he would do if she turned around, stood on her toes, and planted a kiss on his lips. She toyed with the thought for a while, angling her head as the picture got more vivid, as she bit her lips and let a sigh escape them.
She closed her eyes again but reopened them in a split second when she felt his lips on her neck. Her lashes fluttered as she watched him from underneath them, biting her lips to stop herself from doing anything further. She pressed her thighs together, stopping the warmth that had begun to pool there when he carefully moved her hair to the other side to create more access. That was the first time he was pushing beyond the purposely created boundaries of their interaction, and although, Rina hated to admit it to herself, she loved it.
Zayn kissed the skin on her neck, and Rina’s breath shuddered. It was one thing to feel those lips on her, but it was another to watch him do it. There was something about Zayn’s expression that kept her gaze glued to the reflection of his face, unable to look away. He had a dominant aura that still, sought to accommodate her. And for some weird reason, Rina found that to be a turn-on.
He trailed a path with his lips, from her shoulder to her ear lobes, flicking his tongue out to tease her. Rina held on to the wool of his pants from behind, holding on to it tight to stop a moan from escaping. She bit her lips as a passionate sensation coursed through her.
“Fuck,” were the only words that escaped her lips as Zayn suddenly wrapped a hand around her waist, and turned her around, causing her to face him. Rina found it difficult to breathe, and it felt like the cooling system in the cottage had developed a fault. Unable to control it, her hands fell on his perfectly sculptured chest, feeling his muscles that lay hidden by his black linen shirt. Slowly, she slid them up his body, until her hands wrapped around his neck.
Her chest thumped erratically, hitting hard against her chest. Her cheeks were flustered, and her eyes hazy. Zayn leaned in close. It took her back to that night just by the basement door. She could feel the heat of his breath hovering over her face, and in that moment, Rina knew it was either to damn or to be damned. And she didn’t know what would happen.
Zayn said something indecipherable, as even though Rina hadn’t heard the words, she’d seen his lips move. She wanted to ask him what it was, but Rina thought that she would tear through the fragile moment they had built, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that to happen.
Zayn’s lashes fluttered as he pulled his gaze down to her lips, lingering on their fullness and perfect shape. She wanted to know how he tasted, but at the same time, she didn’t want to cross the line they had drawn between them. Rina knew what this would mean and confusion clouded her thinking, settling atop all she knew, wanted, and believed. Although she couldn’t tell for him, since he could as much as get any woman he wanted in the country with a snap of his fingers, Rina didn’t think she could put off denying her attraction to Zayn.
He sighed audibly and leaned away from her.
“I better get you that dirty martini,” he muttered, before bounding out of her room. She heard the shuffle of his feet in the hallway, and listened until it gradually faded into nothingness.