The kiss deepens before I can think.

Zane’s mouth moves against mine with gentle insistence, coaxing rather than claiming, asking rather than taking.

My touch-starved body responds before my mind catches up to what’s happening between us. His hands slide into my hair, fingers threading through the strands as he angles my head for better access.

I should stop this right now, should pull away before we cross a line neither of us can uncross. Instead, I find myself gripping his shoulders and pulling him closer.

He tastes like mint, and kissing him feels easy in a way nothing with Paul ever has.

No desperation clawing beneath the surface, no hunger that threatens to consume us both whole. Just warmth spreading through my chest like honey poured slow.

When his tongue slides against mine, a moan escapes into his mouth before I can trap it. The sound makes him groan in response, his fingers tightening in my hair with barely restrained need.

His hands skim down my sides with reverent slowness, thumbs brushing the curves of my waist.

“Morgan,” he breathes against my lips, pulling back just enough to speak my name like a prayer. “Goddess, you’re absolutely incredible.”

The praise lands differently than when Paul says similar words in the darkness of stolen hours. Zane speaks like he wants the whole world to hear, like my name deserves to be shouted from rooftops.

His mouth trails down to my neck, lips finding the sensitive spot below my ear that makes me shiver.

I feel myself falling into the simplicity of this moment, into how easy it would be to let this happen. To choose the brother who doesn’t have to hide me away like a shameful secret he can’t acknowledge.

His palm slides under my shirt, warm skin meeting warm skin as his hand presses flat against my stomach. My soft stomach that I usually hate, the flesh I’ve been taught to hide and apologize for existing.

But Zane doesn’t flinch at the softness he finds there, doesn’t pull away in disgusted surprise. He strokes the skin like he wants to memorize every inch, like my body is a landscape worth exploring.

“You feel incredible too,” he murmurs against my throat, breath hot on my pulse point. “Every single part of you, Morgan.”

His fingers brush higher, skating along my ribs with intent that makes my breath catch painfully.

“Is this okay?” he asks against my collarbone, pausing to check even as his body trembles with want.

“Yes,” I breathe, and the word comes out desperate, hungry, nothing like the careful woman I’ve learned to be.

His thumb traces the underside of my breast through thin cotton, and my back arches into his touch.

“You’re so responsive,” he groans, lips dragging across my throat as his hand cups me fully now.

The pressure sends sparks racing down my spine, pooling low in my belly like liquid heat. His other hand grips my hip, pulling me closer until I’m practically in his lap, straddling his thigh.

The friction makes me gasp, and he swallows the sound with another kiss.

“I’ve imagined this so many times.” His confession burns against my mouth, raw and honest. “You have no idea what you do to me, Morgan.”

His hips shift beneath me, and I feel the hard evidence of exactly what I do to him pressing against my thigh. The sensation sends a jolt through my core, and I rock against him without conscious thought.

“Goddess, yes.” His head falls back, throat exposed, and I want to taste that skin.

My lips find his pulse point, tongue tracing the rapid flutter there while his hands roam my curves. He palms my breast again, thumb circling until I’m whimpering into his neck like a woman possessed.

“Tell me what you need,” he rasps, other hand sliding to my backside, pressing me harder against his thigh. “Tell me how to make you feel good, and I’ll spend all night doing exactly that.”

The promise unravels me further, and I grind down against him, chasing the building pressure between my legs.

His fingers find the hem of my shirt, tugging upward with a question in his copper eyes. I nod, and then his palms are on bare skin, warm and reverent against my aching breasts.

Paul.

His forehead drops to mine, breathing ragged, copper eyes searching my face with devastating intensity.

“Tell me you don’t feel anything for me.” His voice comes out hoarse, scraped raw by hope and hurt. “Tell me there’s nothing here, and I’ll walk away right now without looking back.”

I open my mouth to give him the lie he’s asking for, the words that would set us both free. But the denial won’t form, won’t take shape on my treacherous tongue no matter how I try.

“I can’t say that to you.” The confession slips out before I can cage it, honest and horrible. “I do feel things for you, Zane, and I hate myself for feeling them.”

“Then why are you stopping this?” His hand cups my face with heartbreaking tenderness, thumb tracing my cheekbone. “Why are you pulling away from what could make you happy?”

“Because it doesn’t matter what I feel.” Tears burn behind my eyes, threatening to spill over. “I belong to Paul, and my heart knows it even when I wish it didn’t.”

The words land between us like stones dropped into still water, ripples spreading outward without end.

Zane pulls back slowly, pain etched into every line of his beautiful face like words carved in granite. His jaw works silently for a long moment, processing the rejection with visible effort at acceptance.

“Then he’s the luckiest bastard alive.” The words come out rough, scraped against his obvious hurt. “My brother has no idea what he’s been given, hiding you away like you’re ordinary.”

“Zane, I’m sorry.” The apology feels inadequate for the wound I’ve just carved into his chest. “I never meant to let things go this far between us.”

“Don’t apologize for being honest with me.” He rises from the chair, putting distance between our bodies. “That’s more than Paul has given you, isn’t it?”

The observation lands with surgical precision, finding the exact spot where I’m already bleeding internally.

“If he ever stops deserving you, Morgan, I’ll be waiting.” Zane pauses at the library door, turning back. “However long it takes, whatever happens next, I’ll be right here wanting you.”