CHAPTER 317

CHAPTER 317
ZION

I stepped through the sliding door, the cool night air clinging to my skin for half a second before the warmth of the living room swallowed me—woodsmoke.

The boys were still out on the deck; I could hear Clark’s voice rising over the surf, probably telling another bullshit story.

But who the fuck cared. Not me. Not tonight.

I wanted one thing.

And one thing only.

My eyes found her instantly.

Winter.

Curled in the middle of the sectional between Claire and Ariel, legs tucked under her, my hoodie swallowing her whole, sleeves bunched at her wrists.

Her hair tumbled loose down her back in dark waves, catching the firelight, and her eyes—those blue eyes—were shining, bright and alive, cheeks flushed from the heat, the wine, and the kind of happiness that still felt like a miracle after everything.

My girl.

My Snowflake.

My fiancée.

The word still didn’t feel real in my head. Fiancée.

Fuck—fiancée.

I almost laugh under my breath, the sound rough with disbelief. She’s officially mine now—and somehow that still doesn’t feel like enough.

Not for me.

Because I wasn’t going to rest until she became my wife. Until there was a ring on her finger and my name tied to hers in every possible way. Until the whole damn world knew she belonged with me.

Not owned.

Not trapped.

But claimed in the only way that mattered—by choice, by love, by the unbreakable fact that she was mine and I was hers.

And once that happened…

Once she carried my name?

No force on earth would ever take her from me again.

My Snowflake.

My woman.

My wife.

And anyone stupid enough to forget it…

I’ll happily remind them.

She was so fucking beautiful it stopped my breath.

I’d had a semi all evening just stealing glances at her.

Every time she shifted—crossed her legs, tossed her head back laughing, reached for her mug—my cock twitched, thickening against my sweatpants, the fabric doing nothing to hide how badly I wanted her.

She caught my eye across the room.

Her laughter faded into a slow, knowing smile.

Her gaze drifted down—deliberate, hungry—landing on the obvious bulge straining my sweatpants.

Her eyes darkened instantly, pupils blowing wide.

She licked her lips—slow, wet, obscene—tilted her head just slightly, suggestively, and gave me that look.

The one that said she knew exactly what she was doing to me, knew how close I was to snapping, and wanted me to.

Enough.

I was done.

I stalked straight over to her—three long strides, ignoring Claire’s mid-sentence

“—and then he says—”

Winter’s eyes tracked me the whole way, darkening further, lips parting on a soft exhale.

I didn’t stop.

I reached her, bent, scooped her up in one smooth motion—arms under her thighs, lifting her against my chest like she weighed nothing.

She gasped—soft, surprised—but her arms looped around my neck, fingers threading into my hair.

Her legs wrapped around my waist instinctively, thighs clamping tight, hoodie riding higher.

“We’re going to bed,” I announced, loud enough for the whole damn world to hear, making sure none of these girls—especially Claire—got any bright ideas about following us or “checking in” five minutes later with some bullshit excuse like

'I forgot my phone charger' or 'just one more story.' Although, let’s be real, it was pretty fucking obvious what my plan was.

The way I had Winter wrapped around me like a second skin, her legs locked at my back, hoodie rucked up, thighs squeezing my hips—yeah, no one in this room was dumb enough to think we were heading upstairs for a midnight game of Scrabble.

Claire leaned forward from the couch, grinning wickedly, eyes flashing with mock outrage.

“What the fuck, caveman? Put her back down—I was in the middle of telling her something important!”

“It can fucking wait,” I growled over my shoulder, already halfway across the room with Winter wrapped around me like she belonged there.

Claire threw her hands up, voice dripping sarcasm.

“Oh sure, just kidnap the bride-to-be mid-sentence. Real gentlemanly, Z. I was literally about to drop some life-altering wisdom on her. But fine—go rut like animals. We’ll just sit here and pretend we’re not traumatized.”

Yeah.

She was definitely Clark’s twin.

Same dramatic flair.

Same zero filter.

Same ability to make me want to both strangle her and laugh at the same time.

'Listen up! I said, loud enough for every single person in the room to hear, my voice dropping low, hard, and final—like a door slamming shut. No negotiation. No room for jokes. No follow-up questions.

“We’re going upstairs. No one knocks. No interruptions. No ‘just checking in.’ No emergency.  No one follows. No bullshit. You interrupt us before morning, and I’ll break whatever part of you I get my hands on first.”

Claire opened her mouth—probably to drop another sarcastic bomb, because of course she was—but I shot her a look over Winter’s shoulder that clearly said try it and I’ll end you.

She snapped it shut, though her grin stayed wicked, eyes dancing with mischief like she was mentally filing this away for future blackmail.

Ariel just blushed harder—cheeks flaming red—and buried her face in her blanket like she could disappear into the fabric.

Good.

Let them stay down here and gossip or drink or whatever the hell they wanted.

I didn’t care.

Winter laughed—soft, breathless, the sound vibrating against my neck—and buried her face there, clinging to me tighter, thighs squeezing my hips like she never wanted to let go.

Her arms tightened around my neck, fingers threading into my hair, tugging just enough to make my scalp tingle and my cock throb harder against her.

The girls erupted behind us—cheers, whoops, borderline inappropriate comments flying like confetti.

Claire: “Get it, girl! Wreck him!”

Ariel (muffled through the blanket): “Oh my god… have fun?”

Clark (from the deck door, because of course he’d stuck his head in):

“Use protection! Or don’t! Make little snowflakes! I want to be an uncle!”

I ignored them all.

I carried Winter out of the room to the sound of cheers and wolf whistles, heading up the stairs two at a time, her mouth already back on my neck—teeth grazing, tongue flicking, hot little breaths that made my pulse hammer and my cock ache.

"Fucking finally,” I hissed through clenched teeth, the words raw and ragged.

She rocked her hips once—deliberate, teasing—grinding her wet heat right over the thick, throbbing ridge of me through our clothes.

The friction ripped a low, guttural groan from my throat, hips jerking forward on instinct, chasing more.

“Fuck, baby,” I rasped against her ear, voice shredded and shaking.

“You’re killing me.”

I growled the words against her neck—low, feral—hips grinding once more—hard—into the cradle of her thighs so she could feel every inch of how badly I needed her, how desperately I’d been holding back.

“Am I?” she breathed against my pulse, lips brushing the skin, hot and teasing.

Her tongue flicked out—quick, deliberate—tasting the salt there, and I nearly stumbled on the stairs, knees buckling for half a second under the rush of heat that shot straight to my cock.

“Then what are you going to do about it, Zion?”

The words came out seductive, low, dripping with challenge—like she knew she was pushing me right to the edge and wanted to watch me fall over it.

My footsteps quickened—almost running now—taking the last few stairs three at a time.

“I’m going to do you,” I rasped, voice rough and thick with thirty-five days of pent-up hunger.

“The doctor gave me the fucking clearance—no more holding back. No more careful. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t fucking walk, until your legs shake and your voice breaks and you’re sobbing my name. Then I’m going to fuck you some more. I need to be inside you. Now. I’ve waited too long—too fucking long—to feel you clench around my cock, to hear you come apart for me, to fill you up until you’re dripping with me and still begging for another round.”

She moaned—high, desperate—hips rocking against me in helpless little circles, grinding her wet heat over the aching length of me through our clothes.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice trembling with want.

“Please. All of it. I need you inside me. I need to feel you—deep, hard, no mercy. I want to feel every inch. I want to come so hard I forget my own name. I want you to mark me from the inside out until there’s nothing left but us.”

I kicked the bedroom door shut behind us—hard enough the frame rattled—and pressed her back against it for one searing second, mouth crashing down on hers.

Hard. Desperate.

Hungry.

Tongue sweeping in to taste her like I’d been starving for decades instead of thirty-five days.

She kissed me back like she was dying for it—tongue tangling with mine, nails raking down my back, hips rolling in that slow, filthy grind that had me seeing stars.

I tore my mouth away just long enough to rasp against her swollen lips, voice splintering:

“You’re fucking mine, Snowflake.”

I dropped her onto the bed—gentle, but firm enough she bounced once—then moved over her, sliding between her legs, hips settling into the cradle of hers.

She hooked her ankles around my waist immediately, pulling me closer, thighs squeezing tight.

“Always,” she moaned, voice shaky with want, hands sliding under my shirt to rake nails down my back.

I groaned—low, broken—forehead dropping to hers for a second as her words sank in deep, twisting something raw and aching in my chest.

“Fuck,” I breathed, voice rough.

“Say it again.”

“You’re mine,” she whispered, eyes locked on mine, dark and certain.

“And I’m yours. Completely. Forever.”

I kissed her again—deep, claiming—then pulled back just enough to look at her.

“Thirty-five days,” I rasped.

“Thirty-five fucking days of holding you, kissing you, tasting you, but never getting inside you the way I needed to. Now I’m gonna strip you slow—kiss every scar, every mark, every inch of you that survived hell. I’m gonna taste you until you come on my tongue. Then I’m gonna fuck you—slow at first, careful, feeling every flutter, every clench—then harder, deeper, until you’re shaking and sobbing my name and coming so hard you forget everything except how good it feels to be mine.”

Her breath hitched—sharp, needy—hips lifting, grinding against me.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice trembling.

“All of it. Please.”

I groaned—low, tortured—and started working her hoodie up her body, slow, reverent, exposing every healed scar, every fading bruise, every inch of skin I’d spent weeks protecting.

My girl.

She owned every single piece of me—every dark corner I used to hide, every scar I never talked about, every heartbeat that had learned her rhythm like it was the only song worth playing.

I stopped grinding against her—forced myself to still—even though my cock was throbbing so hard it hurt, leaking against her heat through our clothes.

I lifted my head just enough to meet her eyes—those blue eyesthat had haunted me since we were kids, that had broken me when I thought I’d lost her, that had put me back together every time she smiled.

I cradled her face in both hands—thumbs brushing the soft skin under her eyes—and spoke low, meaning every fucking word.

"Fuck."

I kissed her—slow, deep, reverent.

“Snowflake."

Another kiss—longer this time, tasting the salt of tears she hadn’t let fall yet.

“You’re mine. My whole world. My beginning. My end. Every breath I take is yours. Every thought. Every heartbeat. I’m never letting you go again.”

“Yours,” she whispered against my lips, voice trembling but sure.

“Always yours.”

Fuck

Tonight wasn’t about restraint anymore.

Tonight was about claiming her.

Loving her.

Fucking her until we both forgot our own names.

And I was finally going to give her everything I’d been holding back.

Every desperate, filthy, loving inch.

No more waiting.

Just us.

Finally.