[CONTENT WARNING: this chapter is pretty graphic (sexually), but has key components and character development.]

Summer: Day 23

Zach's POV:

Her hips move along to the tune of the song, shamelessly dancing to the music. Seriously, making pancakes and dancing to music is such a vibe in her book. No wonder I like her.

I'm leaned up against the parallel counter of the one she's working on, my arms crossed over my chest. And boy, I'd be lying if I say my eyes didn't drop to her ass every now and then. On a second note, it surprises me how oblivious she is sometimes; I've been standing here for five solid minutes, burned through one whole song, and she still hasn't noticed my presence. What world is she living in?

Once she's done with mixing the batter, she turns around and flushes pink, as if she was caught committing the worst crime ever.

"Zach," she says, helplessly flustered.

Oh, the effect I have on her.

"So affected," I chuckle, pushing myself off of the counter to cage her in between my body and arms. "I see you found the pancake mix."

"I didn't know you went grocery shopping too," she mutters, looking up at me through her lashes.

Damn her evergreen eyes. She's so seductive and she doesn't even know it. She amazes me, my little flower. Mi fiore.

"Only the best for my girl," I reply, watching as her facial expressions melt at hearing my words. I myself am mystified by her beauty. "You are my girl, right?"

"Only ever yours," she says in a promising whisper though she looks away nervously.

"Show me then," I challenge, bending down to her level. God, she's so tiny. Pocket-sized.

Her eyes dazzle as the chandelier above reflects off of them. "What?"

I grip her waist, tracing her exposed skin with my cold thumbs. "Kiss me, Mackenzie."

She cocks her head to the side adorably, but takes my request and crashes her lips onto mine. Pulling my hips to hers, gripping my trousers, her mouth meets mine in a delicious frenzy.

I let my hands travel down her legs, lifting them up so she's now resting on the counter. We sure have a whole lot of kissing to do to make up for a lifetime.

She pulls me closer to her again, clawing at my back with her fingertips. I can feel the want in her touch. The desire.

I shiver when her hands start messing with the waistband of my sweatpants.

To be so intimately touched like this is foreign, so forgotten and long-gone. And I've never been kissed like this; emotions pile over me like snow—exhilarating and electrifying. Kissing Mackenzie was warm, sweet, hot, and so romantic. I had trouble deciphering whether or not to keep my eyes half-open in desire or fully closed in pleasure. Everything about this had my heart rate pulsing.

I kiss her back passionately with a new-found purpose—because when I dig deep down, I realize that I've only ever wanted her. It's Mackenzie that I want. Forever and ever. And if it's too early to say it now, I want to show her how much I care for her.

She moves her hands all around my body, roaming my skin and lighting it up at her burning touch. My shoulders, waist, neck, arms. When she moans against my mouth, she tangles her hands in my hair and tugs on it just how I like. Her legs squeeze around my waist and I feel myself perking up.

Fuck. Not again.

My mind rushes back to the time when I told her not to have me, not to touch me. But quite frankly, if she wanted to right now I'd let her. In a freaking heartbeat.

Our tongues move languidly in rhythm, and for someone who's never kissed before she's got it down pretty good. She knows what she's doing, she knows how to drive me fucking crazy.

Knowing that she feels the bulge in my pants, I grind my hips against her—my heart rate accelerating in excitement, in uncertainty, and rendering me fully speechless. Damn, I haven't felt this in so long.

Mackenzie gasps, gripping onto my forearms to steady herself. I find her bottom lip and bite down on it, teasing her, feeling her, wanting her.

If she was looking for a sign, here it is.

I want her. Clothed or unclothed. Dressed or undressed. Her lips kissing me, all the time, and even when she's talking her brain off. I want to wake up with her everyday, feel her body flush against mine. I want her in my hoodies, hanging out with my friends. In my past, my future, and my present. The long game, the hard game, the losing game, ultimately to win her.

I don't know how a kiss can prove that, but I was trying utterly hard to show her.

"Zach," she says, pulling away to catch her breath.

I move my lips down to her neck, not done with her yet, nor not wanting to stop. "I know."

And then the doorbell rings.

Like it always does when something good is happening.

"It's Kylar," she breathes, her air flow still hitched in recovery.

"Why?" I murmur, pressing my forehead against hers.

She unhooks her legs from my waist and sighs, frustrated. "I gave him the address. He was pestering me about telling him all night and morning," she explains.

"Idiot." And I don't know if I was playfully name-calling her, or shamelessly doing it to my brother.

"My bedroom," she demands, her voice now dominant. "So he doesn't see you. I'll make things quick with him. Give me a few minutes."

I chuckle, caressing her cheek as if we had all the time in the world. "Your lips are a little swollen, Kenz. And look very very kissable."

"I'll figure it out," she says, hopping off the counter.

I'm left unfinished and hot.

At least I have a few minutes to work with.

******

Mack's POV:

I grab a water bottle and walk to the door. When I open it, Kylar's face is a whole mix of emotions; it's hard to tell which one is more prominent.

"Why is Zachariah's car still here?" he asks, looking over my shoulder.

I let the lie spew out of my mouth before I can even process it. "He stayed at Tanner's. Tanner lives in this building too."

"Can I come in?"

"Later," I say with a small squeak to my voice. "I have to get ready for work."

"You got a job?"

I nod proudly through the continuous lie. "Yeah, at a coffee shop. I really have to go and I'm starving—and I was making pancakes, y'know..."

"Why are your lips swollen?" he inquires, his eyes never meeting my gaze.

"Huh?" I touch my lips and laugh. "Oh, it really does work!"

"What does?"

I look at him with an amused expression. "The Kylie Jenner lip challenge," I reply, puckering my lips. "You use a water bottle and—"

"Okay, I get it," he chuckles. "That was so 2016. Anyways, I'll stop by tomorrow, alright?"

"Sure," I reply, nodding my head.

I let him leave, and as soon as he's down the hallway of the flat, I lock the door. Lying suits me, I suppose. You know, when you're protecting the one thing that fills your stomach up with butterflies with every passing second, every look, every breath-taking kiss?

As soon as I open the door to my bedroom, my eyes fall on his delicious bare muscles as he closes his eyes and throws his head back in frustration. Fuck, he's so hot. Shit, I'm cussing profoundly again. And hell, I don't care.

The bathroom light is openly displaying his smooth looking skin; hot, sexy, desirable. Zachariah is exceptionally easy on the eye, and everyday I get more and more familiar with having him my life. More and more comfortable.

When I notice his hand going in and out at a rapid speed, I bite my lip and my legs almost go weak at the sight. The books never mentioned how hot this can be in real life.

I could just stand here and watch him succumb to himself, or I could—yes, I choose the latter.

My feet take me to him, under euphoric feelings of want and desire, and I place my hand over his own as the other rests on his exposed v-line. He halts at my bold move and drops his hand, visibly quivering at my sudden closeness.

"Let me," I say, not moving my hand just yet.

He lets out a breathy moan.

Responsive, I see. "I haven't even started," I say, gripping him tighter. 

His hand finds the one I've rested on his v-line, intertwining our fingers—showing his trust in me.

I take his hand and walk him towards my bed, slowly feeling him up in a torturous way. The way I want to, to explore, to savor every touch. I might not know what I'm doing, but I'll find out along the way.

When Zachariah's knees hit the back of the bed, he lazily falls down onto it, pushing himself higher up to get comfortable. It's the first I see of his eyes, and he looks hungry, wanting, needy, and oh-so-irresistible. His expressions convey pleas of lustful desire, and it's not long before I crawl on the bed, kissing him sweetly.

"What's our safe word?" I whisper against his shaky breaths.

He nods, not wanting to say it. He knows what I'm doing.

I gasp when he bites his lower lip, pressing his hands into my arms. "Please," he whispers, the intense stare of his blue orbs so immense I feel like I'm lost in the ocean.

I pull my own lip in between my teeth and gaze at him in admiration. He's so vulnerable, so mesmerising. And when he looks back at me with the same expression, I can't help but wonder if he feels it too. This electric current that we possess.

My lips graze down his whole body in a slow trail, nipping and biting where he fittingly responds. Zachariah Montgomery is going to completely ruin me, and in fact, he already has.

I straddle myself over his knees, taking his erection in my hand. It's so big. And holy crap, my hand can't even fully wrap around him. His Adam's apple clearly stuck in his throat, I swallow the lump in mine. You can do this, Mackenzie.

Damn, he even has me addressing myself with my full name.

Zachariah's eyes close briefly, caving into the softness of the pillow beneath his head. I tighten my fingers around him and move up and down his length as he was just doing to himself moments ago. His breathing hitches in his throat as his tight muscles flex with every passing second.

When he opens his eyes again, they're clouded into a deep and dark blue color, pulling me into his erotic trance. "That's right, baby."

His stare is too much—me touching him, him letting me touch him, him actually liking it.

He screws his blissful eyes shut once more and flexes his hips slightly into my hand. God, who knew pleasuring someone could be such a turn-on? His mouth drops open suddenly and his breathing becomes more shallow. I lean forward while his eyes are still shut, and I place my lips around him, tentatively sucking, running my tongue over his tip.

"Maledetto inferno," he curses in his learned-Italian accent. "Christ, Mackenzie."

I push him further into my mouth at his encouraging, labored breathing. He groans again. Geez, I really do need Christ.

I can do this. I can fuck him with my mouth—I can show him I'm what he wants. Wait, where the hell did that thought come from? To relinquish my dirty thought, I swirl my tongue around his tip again, and he flexes his hips further into my hold. His eyes are no longer shut, but instead fixed on mine in concentration and wonder. This eye contact is unbearable, but I can't bring myself to look away.

I flick my tongue across his impressive erection, wrapping my teeth behind my lips to clamp around him. His jaw clenches and his legs tense underneath me when I push him even further into my mouth, pleasuring myself by giving him this feeling of euphoria.

"Jesus, baby..." His voice trails off with a loud groan. "How far can you go?"

Hmm... I pull him deeper into my mouth, his hips really moving underneath me now. I let him hit the back of my throat, his length going forwards and backwards as I continue with my relentless sucking. My tongue swirls around the end. I suck harder and harder, pushing him deeper and deeper, my tongue exploring round and round. Hmm... I can do this a lot more if he wanted, I mean his moans and groans are so unashamedly fucking hot.

"Fuck Mackenzie, I'm gonna come in your mouth," he hisses through his perfect white teeth. His breathy tone is warning, only making me even more turned-on. "Stop if you don't want me to."

Zachariah moves his hips underneath me more, meeting my mouth the way he wants. His eyes are wide, desirous, hooded, and in need. Need for... oh my freaking god.

He wants me.

His hands are in my hair, my mouth persistent on giving him his release. It's almost as if I need him to come for me, to show me he feels this like I do, all of this. Not just this moment, but us—if he understands everything we are. Complicated and broken and all. All of it.

I push even harder and, in a moment of extraordinary confidence, I let my teeth graze his length. He lets out a loud groan, cursing again in Italian as my action tips him over the edge. He cries out loudly, saying my name, and stills—warm, salty liquid discharging down my throat. I swallow quickly at the taste of it. I'm not sure I like this part of... I take one look at him and see how he comes apart because of me. Suddenly I don't care about the taste of it anymore. And actually, as an aftertaste, I can work with this.

"Good girl," he murmurs, in between breaths with a strained voice.

Initiate praise kink.

That is gonna kill me. Good girl. Yes, the books shall not lie with that one.

I sit back against his knees, watching him with a triumphant smile of lust and love tugging at the corner of my lips. His breathing is still all over the place, and his eyes are still shut lightly.

Finally fluttering them open, Zachariah says, "Christ, Kenz... that was so... fucking good." He motions me to crawl in bed next to him, an astonished look on his face. "Unexpected, but so fucking good."

I don't meet his eyes.

"You've never done that before?" he whispers, still a bit broken in his words.

I shake my head. "Nope." And I can't help the small tinge of pride in my denial. Everything is a first with you.

"Bloody hell then," he says, impressed. "Where'd you learn to do that?" I glance up at him to see him utterly confused.

I blush for the first time in this ordeal, though more so at his sudden question. I can't even fathom what just happened; the way he unraveled underneath me—shut up mind, back to his question. "That's none of your business," I say, evenly in one breath.

"Fucking hell it isn't!" he scolds, baffled. "No, you just gave me the best blow of my life. In fact," he says, his voice going husky and deep on me. "I want you to do it again and again—"

"I read," I whisper, the words morphed into a mumble.

He arches an eyebrow at me. "You... read?"

I nod. "Yeah, I fucking read. Like no shit sherlock, that's how my virgin-ass knows what to flipping do." And holy crap, I just cussed him out.

"You read." His gaze is heated and dark, like his voice. "Wow," Zachariah says, shamelessly processing the information. "That's hot."

"Shut up," I snap, turning red.

His eyes go softer on me, realizing my innocence is practically bruised so badly right now. "I can't help but think that about you, Kenz." And because he's such a boy, his irises drop to my cleavage where my shirt now hangs low.

Subconsciously, I pull it back up. "And you, you're very hot too."

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around me so they connect around my belly. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Hm, I don't know? Kiss me? Or... fuck me? Jesus, not yet. Double crap. 

I see how his hands start playing with the hair tie around his wrist and I hook my index finger around it. "Why do you do this?"

"Do what?" he asks, innocently.

"You always play with my hair tie." I turn around so I can look at him. "Why, why do you do that?"

He turns a slight shade of pink. "Reasons."

"Tell me," I pester.

"When I was away at college." His voice trails off for a minute as if backing up in his explanation. "Okay—remember the day I left to go to college?"

"Yes." 

I remember it so very clearly. I cried my eyes out for two whole weeks like a baby, idiot.

"You were wearing denim shorts, a baby pink shirt, and your hair was in a high ponytail. I looked at you as I was hugging my mom, unsure of what to say to you. After all, Kylar wasn't there because he still hated my guts, and my mom insisted you accompany her." Zachariah stares at me long and hard, searching my eyes. "Do you remember what I said to you?"

Yes. "No, keep talking."

"You smiled at me and it made me so mad, so irritated that I was leaving." His hands find the rubberband on his wrist again. 

"I was so mad at you, Zachariah Montgomery," I say, a threat in my voice.

He chuckles in his intoxicating way. "When my mom finally pulled away from the hug, she left me and you alone. I was terrified that I'd hurt you before I left. So I tugged on your ponytail until it came loose, and said, 'I like it better down.' And then I walked away—"

"You didn't just walk away, you left me," I remind him.

He nods, knowingly. "I know, and I beat myself up all the time over that," he sighs. "Anyways, I wore your hair tie on my wrist everyday after that, never taking it off. And I guess it became a habit to play with it. It calmed me down. And then one day it broke. God, Mackenzie I was so torn." Zachariah laughs at himself little. "I didn't know what to do. And here I am, still playing with your dumb hair tie on my wrist."

Oh my god, I feel like I'm gonna cry.

"Not so dumb after all," I whisper.

"It means a lot to me for some reason," he admits, furrowing his eyebrows together.

"This means a lot to me," I say, finding his hand to hold it against my heart. 

Author's Note:

ok-ayyyy i have no words.

OKAY ACTUALLY- I have a LOT, but I'll keep them to a minimum. Number one, writing smut is so tiring and difficult, but I don't mind it. It just takes extra time and effort. Number two, I was listening to Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift while writing this chapter, so do give it a listen while reading it [it fits them so perfectly ahhh]. And number three, I swear if I don't see comments I will send out a search party.