Zaque's breath hitched, then shattered.
Before Coco could even blink, he moved forward, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was desperate and hot, all damp skin and tangled limbs.
The washcloth slipped from his fingers into the water as he pulled her up with him.
They stumbled out of the bathroom, water dripping down their bodies, clothes soaked through, but neither of them cared.
Zaque backed Coco toward the bed with urgency, kissing her like she would vanish if he let go for even a second and once she was down on the bed, Coco trembled beneath Zaque.
The mediator's lips devoured hers with a hunger that had been months in the making— weeks of restraint, of watching her from arm's length, swallowing every word and touch.
His hands were rough against her skin now, not cruel, but needy, like he was trying to memorize every inch she had ever denied him.
The damp fabric clung to him; water dripped onto the sheets where their bodies pressed together.
