His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 67: ZANE's POV

"We could go even more feral," I said, pulling her toward me until her head rested against my chest, her soft hair fanning across my skin like silk, the intoxicating scent of her filling my lungs with every breath.

"You're something else, you know that?" she murmured, her voice soft and completely exhausted, satisfied in a way that made my chest swell with possessive pride.

I smiled slightly, my hand sliding through her hair slowly, feeling how impossibly soft it was between my fingers, memorizing the texture.

"And you love it."

I whispered it directly into her ear and she laughed, the sound vibrating beautifully against my chest, warming something deep inside me I didn't know could still feel warmth.

Then her voice changed—became smaller, vulnerable, afraid. "What happens tomorrow? I'm so scared of opening the internet. Their negative words, everything they're saying about me. I'm so scared, Zane."

"Come on," I said, shifting beneath her carefully. "Let's shower."

She groaned, her hand smacking weakly against my chest in protest. "You're trying to avoid the subject."

I chuckled darkly, pulling the sheets tighter around her naked body as I lifted her effortlessly into my arms. She remained still, too exhausted and pliant to fight me.

"Why are you covering me with sheets?" she asked quietly, her voice drowsy. "You'll make them wet."

I didn't answer. Just carried her into the bathroom and gently lowered her into the bathtub, switching on the warm water and adding some shower gel from the rack beside her tub, watching the bubbles form.

I looked around the bathroom carefully, everything appearing normal at first glance.

Then my eyes caught on something dark and metallic tucked deliberately behind her bathing products.

I froze completely, a sharp, dangerous hiss escaping my lips.

"That son of a bitch."

"Zane?" Olive's concerned voice came from the tub. "Is something wrong?"

Just then, I heard a faint rumble from the bedroom—the unmistakable sound of the closet door opening carefully, then the soft, desperate click of the front door shutting.

He'd run. The fucking coward had actually run.

"No," I said, turning back to her and forcing my voice to stay calm even though rage was burning through my veins. "I'm fine, Muffin."

I grabbed the tiny camera, crushing it completely in my palm until the metal bent and the lens shattered, feeling a savage satisfaction at destroying his pathetic attempt at surveillance.

"Why don't you come in?" she asked, sounding exhausted and needy. "You're acting strange."

"Yes, Muffin. Give me a second."

Without waiting for her response, I walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom with purpose. The closet door was wide open now, mocking me. I took five long, angry strides to the living room just in time to hear the final chime of the front door closing.

He was gone. For now.

I walked to the wastebin, tossing the completely smashed camera inside with more force than necessary, then looked around the penthouse one more time, checking for anything else he might have planted, before heading back to the bathroom—completely naked this time.

"Is something wrong, Zane?" Olive asked, staring at me with those beautiful eyes, though I noticed her gaze kept drifting downward to my still half-hard cock. "You've been acting kind of weird."

"Come stay at my place," I said simply, joining her in the bathtub and watching as she froze completely the second I lifted her up effortlessly and slowly, deliberately placed her down onto my cock.

My entire body stiffened, every muscle tensing as I enjoyed the overwhelming feeling of having her wrapped perfectly around me, relishing the tight heat, the way her body molded to mine.

Slowly, instinctively, she started grinding her hips.

"No, Muffin," I whispered directly into her ear, my hands sliding up to cup her full breasts, thumbs rolling teasingly around her hardened nipples. "You don't get to roll your hips. We're supposed to be taking a bath, remember?"

"Aww—god—I can't stop—" she whimpered desperately.

"Can't stop what?" I asked, my other hand splaying possessively across her other breast, squeezing roughly.

"Fucking you—this feels too good—I need to move—"

She ground her hips down on my cock again, harder this time, and a sharp groan ripped from my lips involuntarily. I wanted this desperately—wanted to fuck her senseless right here in this water—but not easily. Not before she agreed to come to my apartment where I could actually protect her.

I held her waist tight with bruising force, completely stopping her from grinding, and heard a frustrated, needy groan rip violently from her lips.

"Come to my place," I said firmly, my voice leaving no room for argument. "Spend the night with me. Let me keep you safe. And I'll help clear your name from everyone's lips, from the entire fucking internet."

She froze for a second, her entire body going still. Then suddenly her head snapped toward me to look at me properly. The small movement caused her hips to shift slightly, and my cock went even deeper inside her tight heat, pulling simultaneous moans from both of us.

"I can't go to your—fuck—can you stop doing that—"

She hissed desperately, and instantly my fingers found her swollen clit through the warm water.

"God—fuck, Zane—you're distracting me on purpose—shit—"

I flicked her clit harder, more insistently, and she automatically ground down harder on my cock in response, her body betraying her protests.

"Zane—you are—I can't go to your apartment. I still have the whole frame-up hanging over me. The collaboration scandal with your company. My pictures and videos flying around every media outlet—"

"I'll get them all removed," I cut her off firmly, my fingers working her clit in tight, devastating circles. "Every single one. Nikolai and Walter will ensure every single photo, every video, every article is completely deleted and no one speaks of it ever again. I promise you."

She stayed quiet for a long moment, and I could practically hear her mind racing.

"The internet never forgets," she whispered, her voice small and defeated.

I jerked my hips upward sharply without warning, making my cock drive right into her core, hitting that perfect spot deep inside, and a sheer, piercing scream ripped from her lips.

"Then let's give them something they can never forget," I growled against her ear.

My hips thrust forward again brutally, her breasts bouncing beautifully above the water, another scream tearing from her throat, echoing off the bathroom tiles.

"What do you say, Muffin?"

My hands found her waist, gripping hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises, caging her in completely, and I began thrusting up into her properly this time—inside the water, watching as her perfect tits gave the most beautiful visual, flying up and down with each powerful thrust, the way her lips parted in shock and pleasure, the way her eyes rolled back.

I could feel her clenching desperately around me, her pussy tightening like a vice, about to cum hard, and I was nowhere near releasing yet. I needed more from her first.

"Fuck—you're punishing me—this is torture—"

She groaned, my thrusts coming sharp, hard, absolutely relentless, hitting through her core with brutal precision while her hands desperately gripped the armrest of the bathtub, knuckles white, holding on for dear life.

Water sloshed violently over the sides, splashing onto the bathroom floor, but neither of us cared.

"If—if I come to your place," she said sharply, gasping between words like she was afraid she'd forget what she wanted to say, afraid the pleasure would consume her completely, "you promise to tell me one thing about you, Zane Mercer. One real thing."

I chuckled darkly. She was a smart one.

A very smart, very dangerous one.

"You get to see my club."

Instantly, she froze completely, her entire body going rigid.

I thrust one final, absolutely brutal thrust up into her that made her scream so loudly I was certain the entire building heard, her orgasm raking violently through her entire body. But I kept thrusting relentlessly, chasing my own release, feeling how her perfect ass pressed against me with each movement, how the walls of her pussy tightened impossibly around my cock, squeezing, milking.

I clenched my ass tight, flexing every muscle, and that was enough—the tightness, the overwhelming heat, the way she screamed my name like a prayer.

I groaned hard, pounding deeper, faster, flesh against flesh creating obscene sounds even underwater, and came hard, filling her completely as she screamed again, her body shaking so violently I had to hold her steady to keep her from slipping under the water.

My hands slowly, reluctantly left her waist once she finished catching her breath, both of us panting heavily.

"Oh, Zane," she whispered shakily, her voice completely wrecked.

I was still buried deep inside her, neither of us wanting to break the connection.

"My club," I said quietly, my voice serious now. "It's my biggest secret. The thing I've never shown anyone outside my inner circle. I'll take you to my underground racing club. I'll show you everything."

She turned toward me slowly, and for a second, I thought I saw something profound in her eyes—something vulnerable, something raw, something that looked almost like...

Then it became clearer.

She was about to cry.

"Muffin—"

The next second, her arms came around me tightly, desperately, hugging me like I'd just given her the entire world instead of just an invitation.

"Thank you, Zane," she whispered directly into my ear, her voice breaking, holding me like I was the only solid thing in her collapsing universe. "I'll go to your club. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for believing me."

She left me shocked, confused, not fully understanding why she was thanking me with such overwhelming emotion, why this meant so much to her.

And then I realized something fundamental that shook me to my core—there was so much about Olive Monroe I still needed to learn, so many layers I hadn't even begun to uncover.

And one thing was already devastatingly clear: she was a light I shouldn't have tried to use for my own purposes.

But now that I had her, now that I'd tasted her, claimed her, marked her as mine—I was never letting go.

Not for anything.

Not for anyone.

She was mine now, and I'd burn down the entire world before I let anyone take her from me.