You’re going to be the death of him.

Zayne looks up at you from where you’ve pushed him against the pool table, hazel eyes burning. The way you look right now, teasing him with the pool stick, doing what you will with him…he’s never felt more of a pull to you than he does now. Well, not quite true. Everything you do is magnetic. He leans up from his prone position, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“If you actually want to learn, I can teach you another way—”

He leans in closer, and forces back a smirk when you press a hand to his chest to keep his lips from yours. Your little quip about professionalism doesn’t fool him. The flush of your skin and the dilation of your eyes does all the talking for you.

“Weren’t you just using me as a cue rest? Talking about ‘professionalism’…is a bit too late.”

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling your body until it’s flush with his. A low hum of approval sounds in his throat, fingers tightening; the barest hint of the greed he’s constantly keeping at bay when it comes to you. With a gentle tug he twists, turning until it’s you lying on the pool table.

His breath catches at the sight of you against the red velvet, a fierce heat sparking in his veins. You’re exquisite like this.

“Why don’t you let me show you?”

His head tilts as he gazes down at you, nudging your thighs to the side with his hips; resting his pool stick on the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. He tightens his grip and leans forward over you, preparing to take the shot.

“Watch closely. I’m only going to do it once.”