Chapter 36: The Rain and the Rug

Harper woke Saturday morning in the penthouse master suite, the soft patter of rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows weaving through her dreams, her body tangled in silk sheets beside Zane Carver. The air was cool, tinged with the faint musk of last night's wine and the lingering warmth of their quiet on the sectional—his arms around her, Jess's visit a fading echo, her head on his chest as they'd sunk into the night. Her muscles felt loose now, a gentle ache from their week of chaos, but today was theirs—no work, no visitors, just the rain and the space they'd claimed together, a cocoon against the world.His arm rested across her waist, lighter than usual, his chest a steady wall against her back, his breath slow and even against her neck—a presence that grounded her in the gray light seeping through the navy curtains. She shifted, the silk sliding against her bare skin—smooth, cool, whispering against the bruises he'd left, fading marks of their love—and his hand tightened briefly, a reflex of possession even in sleep, before relaxing again. The clock glowed 9:23 a.m., a lazy hour for them, and she let herself linger, her eyes tracing the room—mirrors reflecting the rumpled sheets, the walnut nightstands she'd picked, the plush cream rug at the bed's foot, a soft expanse that beckoned in the dimness.He stirred, his lips brushing her shoulder—soft, absent, a sleepy gesture that sent a shiver racing down her spine, prickling her skin with a quiet thrill. "Morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep, thick and low, rolling over her like a warm tide as he cracked his gray eyes open, glinting with a softness that deepened into mischief as he focused on her, his hair a wild tangle from restless dreams."Morning," she replied, her voice husky, rolling to face him—her bare skin brushing his, warm and familiar, a comfort that settled deep in her chest, sparking embers beneath the calm. His face was relaxed, stubble darkening his jaw, and she reached up, tracing the line with her fingertips—rough, textured, a rasp that made her pulse jump, a subtle heat flickering to life. "Rain's keeping us in.""Good." His smirk flickered, slow and wicked, and he pulled her closer—chest to chest, her legs tangling with his under the silk, his hand sliding to her lower back—fingers splaying wide, possessive but gentle, pressing her against him until she felt his arousal nudge her thigh, a silent promise that deepened her breath. "No plans—just you.""You," she echoed, softer, her hand flattening against his chest—feeling his heartbeat thud, steady and strong, a rhythm she'd come to crave—and she leaned in, brushing her lips against his—not a kiss, not yet, a tease that made him groan, low and rough, his hand tightening, urging her closer. The rain drummed harder, a steady tattoo against the glass, cocooning them in a gray haze, the world fading beyond their walls."Lazy day," he said, his voice dropping, his hand sliding up her back—tracing her spine with a featherlight touch, up to her shoulders, down to her hips, a slow exploration that skimmed her skin, waking every nerve without rushing the fire. "Coffee first—or this?""This?" She smirked, shoving at his chest—playful, light—breaking his hold as she slid from the sheets, the silk falling away to bare her body—flushed, marked, hers to offer. She stood, her hips swaying deliberately as she crossed to the rug—soft, thick, a cream expanse that sank under her bare feet—knowing his eyes followed every curve—her ass, her thighs, the sway of her breasts—a tease she wielded like a weapon."Fuck, Harper," he rasped, sitting up, the sheets pooling at his waist—his chest bare, scratched from her nails, sculpted and taut—his gaze raking over her, dark with hunger, pupils blown wide in the dim light. He shed the silk, standing naked—hard, pulsing, ready—his stride deliberate as he crossed to her, stopping inches away, the air thickening with their heat, the rain a distant hum against their silence."Lazy doesn't mean slow," she teased, her voice husky, stepping closer—her breasts brushing his chest, a spark that made her breath catch, her hands sliding to his shoulders—fingers digging in, feeling the muscle tense under her touch, a map she knew by heart. He groaned, his hands gripping her hips—firm, possessive, pulling her flush against him, his arousal pressed against her belly, hot and insistent, a tease that made her tremble."Love you," he growled, his lips crashing into hers—a kiss deep and desperate, tasting of morning and him, a slow unraveling that deepened with every swipe of his tongue, every press of his mouth, coaxing a moan from her throat—soft, needy, a sound that vibrated against his lips, urging him on. His hands roamed—sliding to her ass, squeezing hard, then up her sides—tracing her ribs, brushing the undersides of her breasts, a torture of restraint that made her arch, her nipples peaking against his chest, aching for more."Love you too," she panted, breaking the kiss—her breath ragged, her hands threading through his hair—tugging just enough to sting, pulling him down as she sank to the rug—her knees sinking into the plush pile, dragging him with her, the softness a stark contrast to the heat building between them. He followed, kneeling before her—his hands framing her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks—slow, deliberate, memorizing her in the gray light, his eyes dark with want, steady with love."Zane—" Her voice broke, a gasp as he pushed her back—gentle but firm—laying her out on the rug, the cream fibers cool against her spine, tickling her skin as he loomed over her—his body a shadow against the rain-streaked windows, his hands pinning her wrists above her head, a possessive hold that sent heat pooling low. His lips trailed down her neck—kissing the fading bruise, sucking gently, then harder, marking her anew as she moaned—louder now, the sound bouncing off the mirrors, a wild echo in the quiet."Fuck—Harper—" His growl rumbled against her skin, his mouth sliding lower—kissing her collarbone, tracing the curve with his tongue, then down to her breast—closing over it, sucking slow and firm, his tongue flicking in tight circles until she arched, her spine bowing off the rug, her hips bucking against him, craving the hardness she felt pulsing between her thighs. He groaned, the vibration humming through her chest—jolt after jolt straight to her core—and she clawed at his shoulders—nails raking his skin, leaving fresh marks, a lattice of her need etched across his back."Zane—please—" Her plea cracked, her voice husky, her legs parting as he settled between them—his hands releasing her wrists to grip her thighs—spreading her wider, his breath hot against her stomach as he kissed lower—slow, deliberate, tracing a path down her navel, teasing the edge of her core with a whisper of lips that made her tremble, her hands fisting in his hair, urging him on. But he pulled back—grinning, wicked—climbing up to kiss her again—deep, messy, tasting of her skin, a claim that shook the rug as he thrust—slow, deep, entering her fully, filling her with a stretch that drew a cry from her throat—sharp, wild, echoing off the walls."Love you—shit—" His voice shattered, his hands gripping her hips—fingers digging into her flesh, guiding her as he moved—a rhythm that sank into the rug, the plush pile shifting beneath her, her moans spilling free—loud, shameless, drowning out the rain's steady drum. She gasped, her legs wrapping around his hips—pulling him tighter, deeper—her nails raking his back as he thrust harder—wilder—the mirrors reflecting their chaos—his muscles flexing, her legs locked around him, sweat slicking their skin, a dance of love and need in the gray light."Zane—fuck—" Her cry broke, her hands fisting his hair—tugging hard, pulling him down—his lips crashing into hers, a kiss that deepened with every thrust—teeth grazing her lip, tongues clashing, a wild tangle that pushed her closer, her climax building—a wave cresting in her core, threatening to crash. He groaned—low, wrecked—his hand sliding between them—fingers finding her, circling slow and firm—pushing her toward the edge with a precision that unraveled her, her body trembling, every thrust a jolt that drove her wild."Harper—fuck—" His growl splintered, his lips on her neck—sucking hard, marking her as he thrust faster—deeper—the rug bunching beneath her, a curtain fluttering loose in the draft, the bedframe creaking in sympathy with their chaos. She flipped him—straddling his hips, her hands pinning his wrists above his head—triumphant, wild—her hips rocking against him—slow, deliberate, then faster—riding him with a ferocity that drew a roar from his throat—loud, primal, a sound that shook the room."Zane—yes—" Her voice cracked, her rhythm relentless—his hands breaking free to grip her ass—guiding her, urging her on as she rode him harder—the rug sliding under their weight, rain streaking the glass, a mirror rattling with the force of their union. She shattered—her climax hitting hard—a scream tearing from her throat, raw and unrestrained—as she clenched around him—pulsing, undone—her body trembling, her hands white-knuckling his shoulders, the rug a twisted heap beneath her knees. He followed—a guttural roar ripping from his chest as he thrust up—burying himself in her, his release hot and fierce—his arms banding around her, pulling her down against him as they collapsed—breathless, wrecked, tangled on the rug, rain a soft hum beyond their storm.They lay there—sprawled across the cream expanse—sweat-slicked, trembling—the silk sheets a distant heap, mirrors reflecting their wreckage—his hands possessive on her hips, her legs draped over him, their breaths ragged in the quiet, the city's gray haze a muted backdrop. He kissed her—slow, deep, tasting of them both—his tongue lingering, tracing her lips with a tenderness that softened the fire, grounding her in the aftermath. "Mine," he murmured, his voice rough, satisfied—his hand sliding to her jaw, holding her there—his thumb brushing her cheek, slick with sweat, a gentle claim in the calm."Yours," she panted—too spent to argue—her body still trembling with aftershocks as she curled into him—the rug soft against her cheek, his heartbeat a steady thud under her palm—a rhythm she'd fight for, live for. "Asshole.""Love you too." He smirked—lazy, warm—rolling them so she lay beneath him—his body a shield, his arms bracketing her—his lips brushing her forehead, a soft seal on their rain-soaked chaos. The rug cushioned her spine—plush, warm from their heat—and he pulled her closer—chest to chest, legs tangled—rain drumming a steady lullaby against the glass, cocooning them in their world."Shower—coffee later," he said—his voice low, his hand sliding down her back—tracing her spine with a featherlight touch that made her shiver—reigniting embers she thought were doused. She nodded—her laugh shaky—her hand resting on his chest—feeling his heartbeat quicken—a promise of more as the day stretched before them, lazy and theirs.Tomorrow, they'd face the weekend—life, fights, the next test—but today, on their rug, with his hands steady on her skin, she didn't care. The rain had trapped them, their love a wild, tender thing, and it was everything she'd feared and craved.