CHAPTER 90: CHAPTER 90: A PROMISE IN EVERY TOUCH

He paused, his gaze finally returning to me, and I could see the conflict swimming in his eyes. "But I do know one thing. She’ll be disappointed at first.

She’s always dreamed of me having a wife, settling down, giving her grandkids. She’s talked about it for as long as I can remember."

His words trailed off, and I noticed the way his hand curled slightly into the blanket, almost as if he was holding onto it for strength. A faint sigh slipped past his lips. "And because of that... I feel sorry for her. Sorry that I can’t give her the life she imagined for me."

There was a weight in his confession, a heaviness that pressed against my chest. For the first time, I saw how much he carried, how much he worried about letting her down, about disappointing someone he clearly loved deeply.

"So, I don’t know exactly how her reaction will be," he admitted after a long pause, his voice quieter now. "But... she’s a very nice woman. Gentle. Kind. Even if she rejects you, Evric, she won’t ever do it harshly. She’ll... reject you nicely. That’s just who she is."

The way he said it... so certain, so protective of her nature, made me see how torn he was between his love for his mother and his feelings for me. He wasn’t just worried about her acceptance of me. He was worried about what it would mean for her, for him, for the life they had always envisioned together.

I reached out and placed my hand over his, squeezing gently. His fingers trembled just slightly before he laced them with mine, holding on as if my touch anchored him. And in that moment, I realized it wasn’t just me preparing for her reaction, Zayn was bracing himself just as much.

I turned to him with a small smile. "Do you need some fresh air? I haven’t opened the balcony in a while... want to see the view of the world from my room?"

He nodded, his eyes soft. "Yes."

I picked up the remote and pressed it, and the glass doors slid open with a gentle hum. The night breeze drifted in, cool and refreshing, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers from the garden below. I glanced at him. "Do you want a drink? Or... will it be too much for your throat?"

He shook his head lightly. "I’ll drink."

I called the maid and instructed her to bring us something, and soon we carried our glasses outside. On the balcony, the city lights stretched endlessly before us, glittering like fallen stars. We sat close, talking about everything and nothing, silly stories, random thoughts, quiet laughter. At one point, I pulled out my phone and captured the moment, unable to resist preserving the beauty of us together.

When our eyes met, the laughter softened, and the space between us closed in an instant. Our lips touched, just a kiss at first, but one that lingered with warmth and promise. The drinks kept flowing until finally Zayn gave up, pushing his glass aside. "I can’t drink anymore," he groaned with a smile.

"Same here," I admitted, though truthfully, I could handle alcohol better than him.

I just didn’t stop to think before offering. Drinking always left me too vulnerable, too easily swept into the pull of desire. With everything that had happened between us this morning, I knew I couldn’t let myself ask him for sex, no matter how badly my body burned.

When we returned inside, Zayn lay down on his side of the bed. Normally, I would have pulled him close, wrapped myself around him until we fell asleep together. But tonight, I couldn’t. My body was already betraying me, hard and aching. So instead, I stayed flat on my back, one hand covering my face, silently battling with myself. I wanted his warmth, his closeness, but if I touched him, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

Of course, Zayn knew me too well.

After a few moments of silence, I felt the mattress shift. He moved closer, not asking why I had pulled away, he already knew. His presence was gentle, patient, but filled with intent.

"Are you sleeping?" he whispered.

"No," I answered softly.

"Then kiss me," he said.

I turned my head to look at him, searching his face as if to ask silently, Do you know what you’re asking for?

He leaned closer, his voice low and husky, whispering in my ear, "It’s okay. I’m horny, baby."

That broke my restraint. I kissed him slowly, carefully, pouring all the tenderness I had into the moment so I wouldn’t hurt him. His lips welcomed me, hungry but sweet.

Then his hand slipped beneath my pajamas, sliding over my skin until it reached my cock. The moment his touch wrapped around my cock, a groan escaped my throat before I could stop it.

"Ohh..."

Zayn smiled at the sound, his eyes dark with heat. "Come on me, babe," he whispered, his words a mix of desire and invitation.

I smiled softly, my chest tensed with gratitude, and gently laid him flat against the bed. Before I undressed him, I leaned close, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, "Thank you."

He turned his head slightly toward me, his voice low but certain. "Don’t thank me. I want this too."

I couldn’t help but chuckle faintly. "I know... but still, I can feel you’re doing this mostly for me. I’ll never take it for granted, and I’ll never repeat the same mistakes again."

His eyes softened, and he gave a small nod in silence. That look alone was enough to make my heart ache with something deeper than desire.

I kissed him slowly, letting our mouths linger in unhurried rhythm as I carefully slipped his clothes away. My lips never left his, even as my hands worked with patience, peeling away the fabric from his skin. Soon, his body lay bare under me, glowing faintly under the soft light of the room. I shed my own clothes as well, until nothing separated us.

Lowering myself again, I pressed a hot kiss against the curve of his ear. He let out a hushed moan, "hmh..." that made my pulse quicken.

My mouth trailed downward, grazing along his neck, then teasing with gentle sucks until his body trembled lightly under me.

I slid further down, lips brushing his chest before capturing his nipple between them.

He arched slightly, a soft gasp slipping from his lips as my tongue worked him slowly, deliberately. My free hand reached for the bedside drawer, pulling out the small bottle of lubricant.

With one hand, I poured just enough onto my palm and carefully spread it along my cock, then warmed his entrance with the same care, preparing him.

But I didn’t rush. My lips returned to his chest, to his nipple, drawing more quiet moans from him. Only when his breathing had grown uneven did I lift my mouth, locking eyes with him as I gently raised his legs.