Zayne stepped out of the bathroom, his damp hair tousled, a bathrobe loosely tied around his waist. As he walked into the room, you playfully pointed your fingers at him like a gun.

He smirked, raising his hands in surrender. “Is this another trick to stop me from taking what I want tonight, sweetheart?”

Before you could reply, he closed the distance between you, gently wrapping his fingers around your hand and pressing it against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong.

“My heart is right here, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice deep and teasing. Then, without another word, he captured your lips in a slow, intoxicating kiss.