“Lana…” he murmured, voice thick, sleep-rough, wrecked.
She should have pushed away.
She should have remembered the danger.
The lies.
The NDA.
The island.
Everything.
But his hand moved to her cheek, brushing away a strand of hair.
And the world fell away.
Their mouths met with a soft, slow hunger—nothing like the frantic storm of earlier. This kiss was patient, unfolding like an apology and a promise at once.
Zayn cupped her face in both hands, kissing her as though she were something fragile, something he didn’t want to break again.
Before she could think, before her better judgment could scream stop, she surrendered.
This time he slipped over her like a whisper instead of a wildfire.
This time he touched her like he was learning her body, not conquering it.
This time she
