Only now did Zoe Rhodes understand what it meant to shoot herself in the foot. Zane Hawthorne's kiss was rough, as if he wanted to consume her entirely.
The slick sound of their lips parting and meeting echoed through the spacious bathroom, a noise that was enough to make anyone's face burn.
When it ended, they clung to each other, panting.
Zoe Rhodes, in particular, had her arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging like an octopus to its prey.
Her gaze went past his shoulder, and she stared blankly at the pattern on the cabinet against the opposite wall. After a moment, Zane Hawthorne was the first to recover. He slowly lifted his head from her shoulder, creating a bit of distance between them.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
Zoe Rhodes blinked slowly. The next second, a warm touch graced her lips.
This time, it was his finger.
He gently caressed the small, bleeding cut at the corner of her lip.
