Addicted z.m

Chapter 33

He left a kiss on every single mark on my skin, starting at my legs - slow, gentle kisses so light I had to concentrate to feel them. Then on to my hips, tugging on my waistline. He kissed my ribcage and up my arms and across my neck. He paused at my lips.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, his lips brushing against mine with each syllable.

I let out the breath I had been holding. I ran a hand through his hair and smiled. "I'm okay."

And so he proceeded, kissing me as soft as he did that night in Paris. He whispered small reassurances in my ear and my neck. I could feel everything - from his hand on my bare hip, to his nose brushing against my jaw, down to the love he whispered in my ear.

Whenever I winced he'd kiss me harder, tugging my concentration away from the pain and onto him. My nails dug into his back, earning a groan from him. The control we had over each other was contagious and toxic.

And when it was all said and done, the two of us coming undone, there was that short moment of solitude that numbed me physically. We both panted, staring at each other. My fingertips involuntarily painted over his face - every dip and point. His hair was slightly damp, falling over his forehead. I yearned to kiss him again. And I would have if the unbearable pain that shot through me hadn't occured.

I bit my lip hard to keep from audibly announcing me pain. My rib was screaming, spreading down my spine. I felt a tear leave my eye and fall onto the pillow under my head.

"Spencer," he whispered above me. "What's the matter?"

I couldn't speak - if I opened my mouth, I'd only be able to sob. Though, keeping my cool didn't really matter at this point. Tears were pouring out of me one after the other. My teeth held onto my lip as tight as my jaw would allow without breaking skin, but a cry escaped, causing my teeth to lose their grip altogether.

"Spencer, what's wrong?" He was anxious now, filling himself with helplessness. "Are you upset?"

I shook my head.

"Are you in pain?"

I nodded, letting loose a couple of fugitive sobs.

He shot off of the bed immediately, dressing himself in a pair of boxers and sweatpants before tending to me. "Where does it hurt?" he insisted.

I couldn't answer but he looked me over. When his eyes landed on my ribcage he took his lip between his teeth. "Fuck," he hissed.

I wasn't able to see what he saw, but judging from the throbbing pain I felt in my side, I assumed it wasn't pretty.

Zayn disappeared into the bathroom and came back out a moment later with two little white bottles. He squatted down next to the bed, frowning. "I'm sorry babe, but I'm going to have to make you sit up."

I shook my head, not wishing to move at all. But I knew seeing me this way pained him about as much as the pain I was in. So I obliged when he put one hand under my head and grabbed onto my arm with the other to sit me up. I let myself cry, letting out a yelp at the sudden movement.

"Here," he handed me four pills and a bottle of water. I downed them, attempting not to choke on my sobs. "Alright, now just breathe," he whispered, his hands on my legs. I inhaled with him and exhaled whilst focusing on his eyes and how cold I was but how warm his hands were.

He helped me out of my wet undergarments and slipped me into dry ones and one of his long sleeved t-shirts. I could feel the pain fading as he lay back down on the bed. I straddled his waist and rested my head on his chest. He gently placed his hands on my back, rubbing patterns and drawing pictures. His lips would touch my hair or my skin at times.