Chapter 30: The Morning Clash

Harper woke Monday morning in the penthouse master suite, the first pale streaks of dawn seeping through the navy curtains, her body tangled in silk sheets and Zane Carver's possessive embrace. The air smelled faintly of last night's sake and sex—his hands pinning her to the walnut table, petals scattering as he thrust into her, her screams echoing off the marble, his growled Mine sealing their raw, unfiltered love. Her muscles ached deliciously, every twinge a reminder of how they'd claimed each other—again—on that sturdy wood, their pasts laid bare, their future etched in sweat and moans. Now, as the city hummed awake beyond the windows, she felt the shift: their first workday as a live-in couple, a new chaos waiting to unfold.His arm was slung across her waist, heavy and warm, his chest pressed to her back, his breath a steady rhythm against her neck—a grounding anchor in the quiet. She shifted, her bare skin sliding against his—hot, hard, familiar—and a low groan rumbled from his throat, his hand tightening on her hip, pulling her closer. His erection pressed against her thigh, insistent even in sleep, and a slow smile curved her lips, heat sparking low despite the early hour. They'd barely slept, too hungry for each other, but the clock glowed 5:45 a.m., and reality loomed—meetings, deadlines, the life they'd have to navigate together now."Morning," he rasped, his voice rough with sleep and satisfaction, his lips brushing her shoulder—soft, lazy, a tease that sent a shiver down her spine. He rolled her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand, his gray eyes cracking open, glinting with mischief and love as he loomed over her, his hair a tousled mess she'd made worse last night."Morning," she replied, her voice husky, her legs parting instinctively as he settled between them, his weight a delicious pressure against her core. "You're awake early.""Blame you." His smirk widened, and he kissed her—slow, deep, tasting of them both, a lingering exploration that unraveled her senses. His tongue slid against hers, lazy but deliberate, and she moaned, soft and needy, her hands tugging against his grip, craving more. His free hand roamed—tracing her jaw, her neck, brushing the fresh bruise he'd sucked into her skin last night, a mark she'd wear like a badge today."Zane—" Her voice broke, a gasp as he released her wrists, his lips trailing down her throat, kissing that bruise with a tenderness that clashed with the fire in his touch. His hand slid lower, cupping her breast, his thumb circling her nipple until it peaked, hard and sensitive, drawing a louder moan from her throat, the sound bouncing off the mirrors that had witnessed their chaos."Love you like this," he murmured, his mouth closing over her breast, sucking gently, his tongue flicking in slow, torturous circles until she arched, her hips rocking against him, seeking the hardness she felt pulsing between her thighs. He groaned, low and deep, the vibration humming through her, and she clawed at his shoulders, her nails raking his skin—still scratched from last night, a map of her need."Love you too," she panted, her hands threading through his hair, tugging him up to kiss her again—harder this time, teeth grazing her lip, a clash of hunger that made her tremble. But the clock ticked to 5:50 a.m., and she shoved at his chest, playful but firm, breaking the kiss with a laugh. "Work—shower—move it, Carver.""Bossy," he growled, rolling off her, his smirk intact as he propped himself on one elbow, watching her slide from the sheets—naked, flushed, her body a canvas of his marks. "Shower with me. Save time.""Save time?" She arched a brow, standing, her hips swaying deliberately as she headed for the ensuite, knowing his eyes followed every curve—her ass, her thighs, the sway of her breasts. "You'll make us late.""Worth it." He was up in a flash, stalking after her, his bare feet silent on the hardwood, his hands catching her waist just as she reached the black marble bathroom. He spun her, pinning her against the glass shower door, his lips crashing into hers—a kiss fierce and desperate, tasting of morning and him, a promise of chaos before the day began.She moaned, her hands fisting his hair, pulling him closer as he kicked the door open, the steam rising as he turned the water on—hot, cascading, a shock against her skin as he pulled her inside. The spray soaked them—naked, slick, her hair plastering to her shoulders, his chest gleaming as water ran in rivulets down his abs, pooling where their bodies pressed. He backed her against the glass, his hands sliding to her thighs, lifting her—her legs locking around his hips, her core brushing him, teasing, drawing a growl from his throat."Zane—" Her protest melted into a gasp as he ground against her, slow and deliberate, the water amplifying every sensation—his skin hot, his arousal insistent, her body trembling with want. His mouth found her neck, sucking hard, marking her again as she arched, her nails digging into his shoulders, the glass rattling behind her."Love you," he rasped, his lips brushing her jaw, his hands gripping her ass, guiding her as she rocked against him, the friction sparking heat low in her belly. But then—damn it—he pulled back, setting her down, his chest heaving, his smirk returning as he grabbed the soap, lathering his hands with a wicked glint in his eyes."Tease," she muttered, shoving at him, but he caught her wrists, pinning them against the glass, his soapy hands sliding up her arms, over her shoulders, down her chest—slow, deliberate, suds trailing over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. She moaned, louder now, the sound echoing off the marble as he washed her, his touch a torture of care and desire, his eyes locked on hers, dark with hunger."Gotta get you clean," he said, his voice rough, kneeling to soap her legs, his hands lingering—inner thighs, calves, the backs of her knees—until she trembled, her hands fisting in his wet hair, tugging him up. "Your turn."She snatched the soap, lathering her hands, her smirk matching his as she washed him—chest first, her fingers tracing every muscle, his abs tightening under her touch, then lower, teasing his hips, his thighs, brushing just shy of where he pulsed, hard and ready. He groaned, his head tipping back, water streaming over his face as she tortured him back, her hands slow, deliberate, suds slicking their skin until the air crackled with need."Fuck, Harper," he growled, snagging her wrists, pulling her against him—chest to chest, skin to skin, the soap forgotten as he kissed her, deep and messy, water pouring over them. "You're killing me.""Good," she panted, breaking away, her hands sliding to his shoulders, shoving him toward the bedroom. "Coffee—work—move."He laughed, rough and warm, turning off the water, grabbing a towel to wrap around her—his hands lingering, drying her with possessive care, his eyes never leaving hers. She returned the favor, toweling him off—chest, arms, thighs—teasing until he groaned again, snatching the towel away to drag her back to the bedroom, still naked, still dripping.They dressed—her in a fitted black blazer, white blouse, trousers, him in a dark suit, tie loose—banter sharp, their hands brushing as they moved around each other, a dance of new routine. But in the kitchen, pouring coffee—black for him, cream for her—the clash came. He grabbed the last bagel from the counter, smirking as he sliced it, and she glared, snatching it from his hand."Mine," she said, playful but firm, popping it in the toaster as he stepped closer, his hip nudging hers, his smirk widening." Ours now," he shot back, his hand sliding to her waist, tugging her against him. "Share, Quinn.""Make me." She shoved at his chest, laughing, but he caught her wrists, pinning them behind her, backing her against the island—the cold marble biting her hips, his body hot against her front. His lips hovered over hers, teasing, and she moaned, soft and needy, her hips rocking against him, feeling him harden through his slacks."Challenge accepted," he growled, releasing her wrists, his hands sliding to her blazer, yanking it off, tossing it aside as he unbuttoned her blouse—slow, deliberate, baring her bra, her skin, his eyes dark with hunger. She tugged at his tie, pulling him closer, her fingers fumbling with his shirt, popping buttons until his chest was bare—hard, hot, hers."Zane—" Her voice broke, a gasp as he shoved her trousers down, her panties following, leaving her naked against the counter, the marble cool against her ass. He shed his slacks, boxers, kicking them away, standing bare—sculpted, pulsing, ready—his hands gripping her hips, lifting her onto the island, the edge biting her thighs as he stepped between them."Love you," he rasped, his lips crashing into hers—a kiss deep and desperate, tasting of coffee and him, a claim that shook the counter as he thrust—slow, deep, entering her fully, filling her with a stretch that drew a cry from her throat. She gasped, her legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him tighter, her nails digging into his shoulders as he moved—a rhythm that rattled the dishes, coffee mugs wobbling, the penthouse theirs in every creak and moan."Love you—fuck—" Her voice shattered, her hands fisting his hair, tugging him closer as he thrust harder, deeper, the marble slick with their sweat, her moans echoing off the walls—loud, shameless, a sound that owned the space. He groaned, his hand sliding between them, fingers finding her, circling, pushing her to the edge as she rocked against him, meeting every thrust, her climax building, a wave she couldn't hold back."Harper—shit—" His growl broke, his lips on her neck, sucking hard, marking her anew as he thrust faster, the counter groaning, a mug tipping, shattering on the floor. She laughed, wild and desperate, her hands clawing at his back, and he flipped her—bending her over the island, her breasts pressed to the cold marble, his hands gripping her hips as he entered her again—faster, rawer—his mouth on her shoulder, biting as she pushed back, the rhythm relentless."Zane—please—" Her plea splintered, frantic, and he reached around, fingers circling again, pushing her over the edge as he thrust deep, the counter slamming against the wall. She shattered, her climax hitting hard, a scream tearing from her throat as she clenched around him, pulsing, undone—her body trembling, her nails scratching the marble. He followed, a guttural roar as he buried himself in her, his release hot and fierce, his arms banding around her as they slumped against the counter, breathless, wrecked, coffee pooling around the broken mug.They stayed there, tangled in each other, the kitchen a chaos of spilled coffee, scattered clothes, their breaths ragged in the quiet. He kissed her—slow, deep, tasting of them both, a seal on their morning. "Mine," he murmured, his voice rough, satisfied, his hand sliding to her jaw, holding her there."Yours," she whispered, too spent to argue, her body still trembling with aftershocks as she leaned into him, the marble cool against her cheek. He pulled her upright, his arms wrapping around her, steadying her as they caught their breath, the city waking beyond the windows, oblivious to their storm."Shower—again," he said, his smirk returning, grabbing a fresh towel from a drawer to wipe the counter, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Then work. You're late.""You're late," she shot back, smirking despite the ache, sliding off the counter, her legs shaky as she gathered her clothes, her body humming. "Asshole.""Love you too." He laughed, pulling her toward the ensuite, his hand possessive on her hip, promising more chaos later. She let him lead, her heart full, her skin tingling—work could wait, the world could wait. They'd claimed their morning, their space, their love, and it was everything she'd feared and craved.