Dear Z,

Kiss. My. Ass.

• • •

Naked.

I'm fucking naked.

And Z is in my room.

I crush the thick border of the printed flower bedsheets covering the length of my entire body in my fingers and press my naked chest to it, keeping my flesh hidden from his half mast gaze. He looked very icy right now and his massive tall body strung rigid. I could feel my nipples harden and their stubs poking the thin sheet.

"Rose." He called out my name in his hard cold voice. It made me press my thighs closer together. I watched as he took in my state. Never taking those eyes off me and I knew he could see the outline of my nipples because his gaze stayed there for a while.

After that whole debacle in the bathroom, I felt an incredible rush that dropped as soon I saw Adrianna smiling and talking with people that surrounded her. It hit me that I did something I shouldn't have. Again, that awful sickness took over me.

So I called in a quick stomach problem and hurried back to my room. I even rushed past Liam, blubbering my excuse. I showered, toweled myself dry and I just fell flat onto the bed like that. It took a while for the cool air in my room to make me shiver and I crumble the sheet over me. I don't know how much time has passed but I drift in and out, rousing at every door slam and foot stomp outside my bedroom. When I hear voices enveloping on my floor I knew the guests had left. I stayed there and soon again fell asleep without discerning it.

Now, I have Z in my room and I don't have a clue on what to do.

"Z? Why are you here?" I say, softy this time.

He seems to jerk himself inwardly but he looked pretty beat down. "Wade is getting some in our room. I need a room to crash tonight."

I gulp. "Okay. Go and sleep in someone else's room then."

"I'm tired."

"I know but-"

"I'm tired, Rose." His voice serious and dead.

Even though it was messy- whatever this thing was-I feel bad also and I hate that I have a stupid conscience. So, begrudgingly I point to the couch pressed against the wall opposite to my bed. "Sleep over there."

He turns to look at where I pointed. Then, looks back at me with a squint in his gaze. "No."

I instantly realize he means to sleep in this bed. With me. Sharing the same bed. I don't think I can handle it and I should object but why does it come across as a challenge? As if I should say no and it would mean I'm weak and can't handle him in the same space with me. I very much do not like that thought.

I ponder about it and say, "Turn around."

He does and I quickly grab the closest thing my hands could find to cover me. I slip on my old nightshirt quickly. As I tie my hair into a bun, I clear my throat. "Get in."

I need to normalize this situation. So far, I am just going with the flow. I see him walk over to the other side of my bed and before he slides in, he yanks his kurta off and his jeans come down with them in a pile on the floor.

Muscles on any man is a good look but muscles built from gruesome hard work and labor tension is a withering sexy look. Z's was made with iron and metal crushed together in fire and ice all at the same time. His light chest hair was dark and roguish. Powerful legs that were used to squatting and bending. Forearms made to throw women probably. And Lord, the way the waistband of his dark grey briefs cling to him, making the package a bit too...big. I feel my clit thrum to life.

I know I'm staring so I quickly avert my gaze and try to snuggle further away. I am sleeping straight, my hands with fingers crisscrossing each other over my body like a dead body in their coffin bed and my eyes are pinned to the ceiling. Except my ears and skin are on spot. They are motion activated and they hear him get inside the sheets. I feel the sudden heat wafting off from his body. It's like a furnace, this man. Jesus!

Minutes fly by, the tick-tick of the second hand in the clock on the wall was louder than usual. The light rustle of wind outside was carrying a baritone. I stay absolutely still.

I could tell he was trying to sleep but the current predicament was also keeping him awake. Same here.

I am evoked of a distant memory where my parents just passed away and I had been living in this same very mansion and I had been bolted shut inside a room I had been given. I was dazed for days. Watching life move by. Hilda had given me two weeks of solitary and then she pulled me out of it, and had me come for breakfast one morning. She placed a huge plate of bacon and eggs. Guava juice in a tall glass. She said eat and I obeyed because talking and arguing was an effort. She was pleased by it and left me to finish my meal.

It was only then I saw Z come in. He did a double take when he saw me. I simply gazed back. I knew he disliked me. I didn't care for it at that time. But what astonished me was he took up a few more plates filled it with fruits, more bacon, more eggs, hash browns and bagels and he placed it in front of him at the table and sat down opposite me in the great dinning room.

Curiously I watch him take a bite and eat soundly. He didn't look at me. He kept his eyes at the food and ate. Unconsciously, I felt hungry. The pangs crying in my stomach. I felt it play with the linings of my stomach and making sounds of pained groans. He paid no heed to me but he kept refilling plates with more food. In fact, he opened cabinets and plopped packets of corns chips, nachos, random candies all on the table. I ate and he ate. No one speaking.

At that time I didn't realize what he had being doing. Now in my room as he pretends to sleep, his eyes falling open and down, I understood what he did so long ago. He had helped me with no words. No contact.

Hence, I do the one thing I never thought I do.

I say in a whisper. "Let's call a truce."

I still unconsciously at what I just said. My muscles are constrained, ready for the blow. As if he would reject the idea and laugh it in my face.

I could find myself flinching automatically but he replies back. "Truce."

His voice was abnormally loud in the darkness. I know it's the normal tone but when you are alone and someone talks in their normal pitch, you still feel like they are screaming and it's all the way inside your eardrums.

I breathe back. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There is complete utter silence from him. I feel like I should say something but I have never been the one to small talk.

I wait. For a while. Maybe he would fall into deep sleep and I'll follow the same but no way am I sleeping before he does, he'd probably murder me, truce or no truce.

"I thought you were sleepy." My stupid voice fills in. I can't even control my vocal cords anymore.

"I'm." His one syllable answers make me panicky.

I wait again. Then, I ask more quietly. "Are you asleep?"

When he doesn't answer, I sigh almost immediately. Then, I slowly turn facing him. My throat works when I find him already facing me but his eyes closed. Oh Lord, had been facing me all this while?

I take the time to do the one thing I have been dying to do. Pay attention to details. His nose pointed and narrow. A little crooked, if you ask me. I know it wasn't the fight that occurred that night. Maybe during the tours? I follow his lips that were firm and crazily lick-able and I remove that thought away. His hair was trashed and it made him hotter.

"Are you done?"

I blink back and jerk when he opens his brown eyes. I didn't realize they were so deep and dark. The eye contact is making my face warm.

Weirdly I didn't falter even though he caught me. "I was just watching you."

"Why?" His hand folded under his head and I feel like he sidled closer but it could be my imagination because he was still a good distance away from me.

I focus on the question he posed and without thinking, words flew out of my mouth. "I don't know. I haven't seen you in a while and every time we meet, we fight."

His lip tilt. "I agree."

"How have you been?" I bite my lip. I have been holding on to this question for a long time. I didn't ask him because I didn't want him to think I care.

He doesn't answer. He simply looks at me. Speculating me, perhaps. I know my sheets are covering his naked chest but it doesn't stop my eyes from sneaking a peek at those broad sculpted bare shoulders. The cords of his neck were visible. He was huge beside me. It was making me thirsty.

"Go to sleep, Rose." He wants to shut me down before I got started. It made me angry. I was trying to reach out only to be struck by a wall. I felt embarrassed.

I get up from bed, taking my pillow with me and ignore his eyes as I moved myself to the couch which I had directed to him earlier. I forgot the blanket but didn't have the pride to go back so I simply laid back into the uncomfortable leather of the sofa that contoured my body.

I punched my pillow twice and turned my back to the rest of the room, hiding myself to corner of the leather couch. I was sure to walk like the Hunchback from Norte Dam tomorrow morning.

With eyes clenched closed, I try to control the weird musing of anger and humiliation I felt inside my chest. It was gassy. Claustrophobic but I try to power through.

The one time I reach out, I'm blocked. It's not like I wanted to know about him in the first place. He isn't that important to me. Fucking Ass! Fuck the truce!

My ears twitch when I hear shuffling behind me. I knew immediately he was coming. I wait for him to do something-touch me, or shake me awake. Just something with his hands! However, nothing comes in contact with me.

I hear shuffles and it moves only further away.

"It was mistake coming here." The door opening and I turn and jump, standing. Facing him.

His body aligned to leave. The naked chest glowing and it made me madder. His hands clenched his clothes in a ball. He was about to go, leaving me with more shame than I ever felt. I storm to him and hit the door behind him shut.

"You are a mistake, Z."

"Excuse me?" His brows scrunched up like he didn't understand my sudden fury. It angered me even more.

"You heard me. I try to be civil even for once, even that's a problem. I try to be civil, I try to reach out, nothing is good enough. What is your goddamn deal with me?" I didn't even realize my hands were fisted at my sides.

He stood there, watching me. Taking me in. His gaze raked me like a devil witnessing holy acts.

"Why do you hate me?" I ask, a question irritating me since I knew we weren't made to be friends. I mock at that thought- Z and me friends? Over my dead body.

His face contorted.

"If you are done, I'd like to rest now." His words were unaffected by my little performance. It was like I was speaking to an object that doesn't feel anything.

My toes curled. Perplexed and aggravated by him. I have never been mutated emotionally by anyone as Z. He could do this to me. This disorder of my feelings into such a commotion that it made my heart race faster.

I realized painfully that from now on, I'm going to keep my distance from Z. And not just now but I mean, forever.