Chapter 37 Crossing Lines🔞

Chapter 37 Crossing Lines🔞
(AURIANNA’S POV)

My brain stalls. Everything around me blurs—the sound, the air, even the space between us.

Did he just…?

No. No, that can’t be what I think he said.

My throat goes dry, the kind of dry that makes swallowing impossible. “What…” My voice cracks, barely a whisper. “What did you just say?”

Zayne doesn’t repeat himself. He just leans in—slow, deliberate, confident—until I instinctively fall back against the bed. My hands press into the sheets, my pulse pounding in my ears as he plants his arms on either side of me, caging me in.

He’s so close I can feel his breath brush my lips—warm, slow, and maddeningly steady. His green eyes are locked on mine, sharp and unrelenting.

“I said,” he murmurs, his tone low and almost too calm, “I watched you. Watching me… while I fucked them.”

The words hit like a slap. My heart trips over itself, and I swear I stop breathing for a second.

Then he smirks, tilting his head slightly, voice dropping into something darker. “Who knew you could be such a dirty little perv, Aurianna?”

“I’m not—” I manage to breathe out, my voice trembling despite the heat creeping up my neck. “I’m not a perv.”

But even as I say it, my chest tightens, because I know he saw me. He actually saw me.

“Then why didn’t you leave?” he asks, those green eyes dark, intense, and gazing into mine.

“You could’ve just walked away when you saw me, Aurianna. So why did you stay?”

My heart hammers against my ribs, choking off any reply I can even try to muster. His weight settles heavier on top of me, one hand trapping my wrist above my head. The scent of his cologne, something expensive and woodsy, mixes with the clean smell of my sheets and the undeniable musk of my own fear… and need.

“And why,” he continues, his lips brushing my ear, making me shudder, “did your hand slide into your shorts? Why did you fucking touch yourself while you watched my cock fuck another woman’s cunt? Was it because you wanted it to be you?”

My eyes squeeze shut. 

“Did you come, Aurianna?” he whispers, his breath hot on my neck. “Did you fucking cream your little panties for me while you watched?”

I don't say a word. 

I can't.

His eyes drop to my mouth. I feel his focus like a physical touch. 

He’s going to kiss me. 

My eyes flutter closed again, my body arching slightly in anticipation. But I don't feel his lips on mine. Then I feel a kiss on my neck that sends shivers through my body.

“I’ve been thinking about you since I walked in last night,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice a rough vibration. “Saw your legs spread wide open on this bed. Saw your pretty pussy, wet and leaking for me. You can’t lie to me. You were dripping for me after you saw me naked in the bathroom yesterday, too.” His teeth graze my collarbone. “You can’t get me out of your head. And I sure as fuck can’t get the sight of you out of mine.”

Before I can form a single, coherent word of protest, his mouth crashes down on mine.

I freeze. 

For one second, my professional demeanor, my role as his security consultant, screams in my head. Then his tongue demands entry, and my lips part on a moan I don’t recognize as my own. The sound is swallowed by him. 

Before I even realize it, my free hand comes up, my fingers tangling in his soft brown hair, pulling him closer. The kiss explodes from slow to desperate in a heartbeat. 

I forget the sharp, lingering pain from the cut on my foot. I forget everything but his taste, his weight, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against my thigh.

His hand leaves my wrist to cup my breast through my thin tank top. He yanks the neckline down without hesitating, and my tit spills into his hand. The cool air hits the hard peak of my nipple a second before his thumb does, rubbing and pinching it until I’m writhing under him, my moans feeding directly into his mouth.

God, yes. Just like that.

His hand slides down my stomach, into my shorts, and palms my entire pussy through my soaked panties. 

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against mine. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” he rasps, his voice thick with lust.

“We… we shouldn’t be doing this” I manage to whisper.

I shouldn't be doing this.

“Yes. We fucking should.” Zayne growls against my lips before his fingers hook into the waistband of my shorts and panties, pushing them down in one motion. The air hits my wet folds and I gasp. He slides two fingers inside my pussy, and my back arches off the bed. 

“Ohh… fuck!” I moan.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, covering my mouth with his again, swallowing my cries as he starts to finger me. The wet, squelching sound of his fingers thrusting inside my puss, fill the room. He adds a third finger, stretching me, filling me exactly how I need it.

“Is this what you wanted when you were watching me, you filthy little whore?” he growls against my lips, his fingers curling inside me, finding a spot that makes my vision blur. “You wanted my fingers in this greedy cunt instead of your own?”

“Zayne,” I moan, the sound pleading.

“You were born for this, weren’t you? To get fucked. To be used.” His pace quickens, his palm grinding against my clit with every thrust. “You’re going to come all over my hand, aren’t you? Come on. Do it. Show me how much you loved watching me.”

My hips buck against his hand, meeting his rhythm. My breath comes in ragged sobs. His words, his fingers, his dominating presence—it’s too much. 

I come with a choked scream, my body convulsing, shaking uncontrollably under his. My cunt clenches around his fingers but he doesn’t stop. He fucks me through it, his fingers relentless, dragging the orgasm out until I’m a trembling, sensitive mess, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

Only then does he slowly pull his fingers out. He brings them to his mouth, his eyes locked on mine as he sucks my taste off them with a low groan.

“Just as sweet as I knew you’d be,” he says.

His mouth comes down on mine again, hungry, demanding, devouring my lips when my brain suddenly kicks back into gear like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water over me.

What the hell am I doing?

Zayne’s lips slowly move against mine, his weight pressing me down into the bed, and for a split second, I almost melt into it. 

Almost. 

But then reality hits hard. His touch, what I just let him to do to me—it all slams into me at once.

“Stop,” I murmur, pulling back just enough for our lips to separate.

He doesn’t stop.

Instead, he leans in again, kissing me slower this time, like he’s trying to pull me right back under.

“Zayne.” I say, firmer now, pushing lightly at his chest.

He ignores it.

And when he tries again, when his lips brush mine like he owns them, I snap.

“I said stop!” I shove him hard, my voice shaking but loud enough to cut through the heavy silence around us.

He freezes above me, eyes wide, his breath harsh against my face. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The only sound in the room is our uneven breathing.

Zayne finally sits back a little. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone rough. “I thought you wanted this.”

“No,” I say quietly, my voice trembling even though I try to sound steady. “I don’t. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous,” I snap. “I don’t wanna be another one of your conquests. Just half an hour ago, you were balls deep in some other woman, and now you’re here? Trying to get into my pants too?”

His eyes darken, and his jaw flexes. “At least I wasn’t the one standing at the door like a creep, watching someone have sex.”

That one cuts deep.

It slices straight through me, and for a second, I just stare at him, stunned. That actually hurt but I refuse to let him see it.

“Get out,” I whisper.

He blinks, guilt flickering across his face. “Aurianna, I didn’t mean—”

“I said get the fuck out!” I shout, my voice cracking at the end.

Zayne’s mouth opens like he wants to fix it, but he doesn’t. He just stands there for a beat—looking torn, regret flickering in his eyes—then turns and storms out, slamming the door behind him so hard the walls tremble.

I sit there, still trying to catch my breath, staring at the door like it might swing back open. But it doesn’t.

I bury my face in my hands and groan.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’m supposed to be composed. Calculated. I’m not the girl who loses control over some man. But around him, I’m a disaster. My heart’s still pounding, my body still remembers the weight of him, and I hate that I can still feel his damn touch.

This isn’t me. I don’t blur lines. I don’t screw up.

And yet—here I am.

I exhale shakily and drag my hands down my face, recalling what Chelsea said. 

I’m living in a goddamn telenovela, and I’m the idiot heroine making every wrong move possible.

But not anymore.