The room was dim, bathed in soft golden light from the chandelier above, flickering against the dark walls. The heavy silence between them wasn't cold—it was burning, tense, magnetic.
Nora stood by the window, arms crossed. She could feel his presence even before he stepped closer. Zayan—the man she once feared, the devil with a gaze that melted steel—now looked at her like she was his entire world.
Neither spoke. The weight of his confession from earlier hung in the air like smoke—"I really love you."
She turned, slowly. His eyes met hers.
Zayan wasn't smirking. He wasn't cocky. His expression was raw. Honest. Like a man stripped of his armor.
"You really meant it?" she asked, barely above a whisper. "What you said?"
He stepped closer, his voice low. "Every word."
She looked down, her voice trembling. "I don't know how to believe that… Not from someone like you."
He moved again. This time, slowly, deliberately. His fingers brushed her cheek, and she didn't flinch. "Then let me show you. Not as the devil… but as your man."
Her breath hitched.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her gently toward him. Their lips met—soft at first, just a taste. Then deeper. Hungrier. The tension between them cracked open, and everything spilled out—frustration, anger, longing, love.
Nora's fingers tangled in his hair, and Zayan's mouth moved down to her jaw, then to the hollow of her neck. She gasped when his tongue met her skin, shivering beneath his touch.
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed and laying her down with surprising tenderness.
His voice was husky. "Tell me to stop… and I will."
She didn't say a word. Instead, she reached up and pulled him back down to her.
Zayan's lips found hers again, more demanding this time. As they kissed, his hands slowly slid beneath her blouse, fingertips brushing the soft skin of her stomach. She arched toward him, craving more, craving all of him.
One by one, their clothes came off—not rushed, but intentional. Every inch of skin revealed felt like a vow.
When she was bare beneath him, he paused, just to look at her.
"You're beautiful," he whispered.
She blinked, cheeks flushed. "Zayan…"
"I've never wanted someone like this," he said, voice cracking with honesty. "Not just your body… all of you."
Then his mouth was on her again—lips trailing down her chest, hands gripping her thighs as he took his time. He knew her body now, every sensitive spot, every curve, and he worshipped it.
She moaned his name when he moved between her legs, slow and deliberate, making her tremble beneath him. Her nails dug into his back when he finally entered her—slow, deep, and intense.
Their bodies moved in sync, like waves crashing in rhythm. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. The way he whispered her name between kisses, the way he looked into her eyes while making love—it shattered her.
She wasn't just being claimed. She was being cherished.
And Zayan—this ruthless, feared man—held her like she was something breakable, precious.
Their breathing quickened. She cried out his name, and he pressed his forehead against hers.
"I love you," he said again.
She cupped his face, tears in her eyes. "I love you too."
They came undone together, lost in each other, tangled in sheets and promises unspoken.
When it was over, he didn't move. He stayed inside her, arms around her, their bodies still locked.
They didn't speak for a long time. There was no need.
Zayan kissed her shoulder and whispered, "You're mine, Nora. Not because I own you… but because I need you."
She smiled through her tears and held him tighter.
For once, the devil found peace.