~ SASHA ~
They must have dozed off, because she woke with a start, adrenalin flooding her veins. But Zev was still there, his weight still pinning her to the furs. And she was… she was wonderful.
She let one hand play across the back of his broad shoulders, following the peaks and valleys of muscle and bone, tracing the gorgeous dip that followed his spine and praising whatever creator had made him. Whatever else these men had done, they'd done something right with him. He was a work of art.
Zev sucked in a deep breath and raised his head, his eyes bleary. "Oh, gosh, Sash, are you okay?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep as he pushed himself up onto one elbow. "I didn't mean to crush you."
"You didn't," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair and smiling as it fell over his forehead and eyes. "I just woke up too."
Zev blinked and looked around, then smiled down at her. "You're beautiful when you're rumpled," he said, his voice husky and delighted.
Sasha felt her cheeks heat, but she couldn't stop smiling. "You're biased, I think."
Eventually he rolled off, but neither of them moved, both laying on their sides, facing each other. She kept tracing his chest, while he played his fingers up and down her upper arm. As they talked.
She felt closer to him now. As if something that stood between them had been stripped away. As if she were safe. More than safe. As if she was secure. Standing tall, but sheltered from whatever wind would try to blow her over.
Zev stared into her eyes then huffed a small laugh. "Do you want to know the best part?" he graveled playfully.
Realizing he was talking about the sex, Sasha's cheeks got warmer again. "Sure."
Instead of hearing his voice recount for her what he'd enjoyed, he played an image in her mind—her, but from his point of view, hovering over her when she was arched back on the table, her eyes closed and eyelids fluttering, writhing, trying to get him to take her.
"Zev!" she gasped, covering her face, then realizing that did no good because he'd put the images in her mind, not in front of her eyes. "Stop! That's so embarrassing."
"It's not embarrassing. It's hot," he chuckled.
"It's embarrassing for me—stop!" she said, but she was giggling too. "Please. I don't want to see myself. It'll just make me self-conscious."
He took the images out of her head, but leaned in to kiss her, then murmured, "You have nothing to be self-conscious about. You're amazing. Beautiful. And hot as fucking lava."
She groaned and buried her face in his neck, hugging him to her, brimming with happiness—and still some embarrassment.
They held each other for a long time. When Sasha pulled back, it was to eye him with curiosity. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"Why do you stare?" she whispered. She could understand wanting to see her in general—she loved looking at his body too. But when they were in the throes of that? That was a time she wanted to feel. Why did he want to look at… everything?
"I love looking at you," he said hoarsely. "Fuck, Sash, you have no idea what you do to me. I want to drink you in. Seeing you, it's a drug."
"Isn't it gross?"
He snorted. "Not to me."
Sasha shuddered. "I think seeing too much would creep me out," she said.
Zev frowned. "Would you rather I didn't look?"
"No, no. I mean, if that's your jam, you go for it. Just… don't judge."
"Judge what?"
"My body."
Zev frowned harder and made her look at him again. "What is this now?"
"Nothing! I just mean, you know, depending what we're doing, things might… jiggle."
His eyebrows popped up. "The jiggling is the best part!"
"Ew, no."
"Seriously."
"Zev—"
"Sash, I'm serious. I want to see your breasts bounce. I want to see your ass jiggle. I want to see your thighs—"
"Stop! Shit, stop, Zev, or I swear I'm never going to be able to have sex with you again."
"What?!"
"I can't… I can't imagine all those things. It will just make me embarrassed."
"Why? It's beautiful!"
"Not to me."
Zev snorted. "Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but you're not the one who needs to appreciate it. Do you think I should be ashamed of the ways my body jiggles?"
Sasha rolled her eyes. "You're such a man."
"What? It's a fair question."
"No, it's not. You're a freaking god come to life. If anything you have jiggles, it's because it's supposed to."
"And you're not supposed to? Jiggle, I mean?"
"This is a stupid conversation, I'm stopping it now," she said, and was about to roll off the bed when Zev caught her and forced her to come back.
"No, wait. Stop, Sash. I'm not trying to embarrass you. I'm truly curious. Because I love your body. And I love the way you're giving it to me. I want you to see it as I see it—because it's beautiful to me. And hot as hell. Isn't that a good thing?"
"Yes, of course," she whispered.
"Then why aren't you meeting my eyes?"
She dragged her gaze up to meet his and sighed. "Because I guess I'm still scared that something's going to go wrong and I'm going to lose you," she said honestly.
"You think I would leave you for… jiggling?"
"No, I think you might see something that isn't beautiful. And then that might turn you off. And then you might lose interest in me. And then you might leave."
Zev shook his head. "Your head… it's not a pleasant place to be much of the time, is it?"
"Is yours?"
He frowned thoughtfully. "No, I suppose it's not," he admitted a moment later. Then his eyes snapped back to hers. "I worry about losing you as well. So maybe what we need to do is… never do that to each other."
"I already told you I wasn't going anywhere Zev."
"And I told you the same," he pointed out. "And yet, here we are. Worried about jiggling."
It sounded ridiculous, and she wanted to laugh, but there was also a piece of her that wanted to cry. Because he was right. He had been reassuring her. More than she deserved, honestly. Yet, she was worried, still.
"Sash, look at me." His voice was a low husk. She looked up to meet his eyes and he smiled. "I think… I know it's my fault that you're nervous. And I know there's nothing you can do about that. But I want you to know… I want you to be certain… I vow to you, if there is ever a jiggle I don't like—literal, or metaphorical—I won't leave you. I'll… learn to love it."
She bit her lip to swallow back tears. "Thank you, Zev," she rasped. "Me too. I promise. I'm never leaving. And if there's a jiggle… I'll find a way to love it, too."
Then he pulled her into another kiss, and her heart sang with the same song he'd sung when they were making love.