Page 29 of Collateral Love
That answer surprised both of us.
He stepped closer, not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him.
“You sure you don’t want to be something else to me?” he asked quietly.
I held his gaze, my heartbeat steady.
“No,” I said. “I want to be necessary.”
Something dark and appreciative flashed in his eyes.
“Careful,” he murmured. “That kind of position comes with expectations.”
“I know,” I replied. “I plan for those, too.”
He opened the door for me.
I walked out without looking back.
But all the way home, my hands trembled on the steering wheel from the knowledge that proximity like that didn’t stay clean forever.
And that if I wasn’t careful, wanting him could become the one variable I hadn’t accounted for.
I didn’t sleep when I got home.
I lay in my childhood bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the house breathe around me. My parents were asleep. Chanel was up, reading a romance book.
I envied that.
Not because I wanted her life but because I was asked to protect her innocence, although it cost me mine.
Zayden’s house clung to me in ways I didn’t like. The smell. The quiet. The way he watched without touching. The way he didn’t try to take anything from me, which somehow made the wanting sharper.
That was dangerous.
Wanting blurred lines.
And I didn’t survive by blurring lines.
By morning, I’d decided.
If I was going to trust Zayden King, it wouldn’t be because he liked me, or respected me, or wanted me.
It would be because we shared consequences.
I showedup at his house just after noon.
This time, there was no laughter inside. No music. No women. The place felt sharper.
He opened the door fully dressed, eyes alert.
“You move fast,” he said.
“I move intentionally,” I replied.
He stepped aside without question.
That told me everything.
