Zayne stared down at me, eyes so pale and yet so bright. His lips parted, and I thought... I thought he might say something, but then he kissed me as he reached between us.

There was a pinch, a feeling of pressure and fullness. The feeling stole my breath and Zayne’s. He stilled above me, arms and body trembling.

Waiting.

Waiting until I told him it was okay, and when I did, he moved again, and within a heartbeat, there was no space between our bodies. There was a sharp, burning bite that snapped my eyes open wide.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing my left cheek, then my right. Another dropped on the tip of my nose and then glanced over my damp brow. “I’m sorry.”

Hands shaking, I smoothed them down his back, feeling his muscles bunched and tensed. “It’s okay. It...it happens.”

“I wish it didn’t.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “I don’t want you to feel pain.”

Pain was a part of life. Sometimes it left scars, physical and mental. Sometimes it led to something worse, and sometimes, like this, I thought it might be a necessary step toward something amazing.

“It’s not bad,” I told him, and it really wasn’t. It was mostly just uncomfortable as his heart pounded against mine.

And slowly, it did become better. For a few minutes, I didn’t think that would be possible, but it did, and when I tentatively moved, the sharp breath that left him sounded like a different kind of pain.

“Trinity,” he gasped as I tilted my hips up once more, and between the sound of my name and the interesting friction, it was becoming more than just better. “I’m trying to give you time.”

“I’ve had enough time.”

“Okay.” His eyes opened. “I’m trying to give myself time so this isn’t over before it even gets started.”

A grin tugged at my lips and then a wild laugh bubbled out of me. I moved, lifting my arms and wrapping them around his shoulders. I kissed his cheek.

“Have I told you that you drive me crazy?” he asked.

“Maybe.” Then, because there was a strange giddiness in me, I nipped his earlobe.

Zayne’s restraint snapped, and I guess he’d given himself enough time. He was moving. I was moving. Hands. Arms. Mouths. Hips. Legs. Wrapped together, there seemed to be no end or beginning, and everything swirled around the way we were joined together and that inexplicable deep coiling sensation.

When he lost all sense of rhythm, his back bowing, it happened. That moment. The rush of raw pleasure roaring through the bond, coming from him, coming from me, washing over us in endless waves and waves. We weren’t two. We were one.

As if it was always meant to be.

33

Sex changed nothing and everything.