Page 45 of Zeus

He still manages to hold every ounce of my attention as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls his boots on. I can't seem to pull my eyes away from him when he stands again and walks to the dresser to grab his wallet.

I'm locked in place, as if this is my very first day on the job, and I have no idea what I should do or what comes next.

I'm still standing there, blocking his exit from the room as he approaches.

The hint of mint on his breath meets my nose, infiltrating my senses as he leans in close, his palm warm on my chest through my shirt.

"I'm ready when you are," he says, and then brushes a gentle kiss on my lips before sliding past me and leaving the room.

Chapter 19

Zayne

If it weren't for bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck at all.

That's the thought rolling through my head as I wait for Zeus to come outside so we can leave. I don't know when the note was left, but we're going to be cutting it close.

When he steps outside, I notice that he's wearing the same jeans he had on, the ones that grip his ass like a hug, but he’s changed his shirt.

The scent of his cologne fills the inside of the cab the second he opens the door. I don't have any clue what brand it is, but that doesn't keep me from wanting to bathe in it.

Why now?

Why is he looking at me like he wants to eat me alive in the best way possible when our focus needs to be a hundred percent somewhere else?

He walked away from me so easily all those years ago, without so much as a glance over his shoulder, and now I have butterflies for the man?

I know I'm a fool. I know nothing good can come from this. He'll snap out of whatever sexual need he's feeling, and I'll be tossed to the side once again. But that doesn't stop that ache for him from eating away at me. There's that voice in my head that is trying to tell me that whatever I can get from him should be good enough, that he's not the type of man who can value or cherish someone else.

That's the old me, the old man who took what he was given because he didn't know he could ask for more.

I stopped being that man the day Dakota died. I begged her to stop seeing the guy she was with and told her she deserved better. I knew nothing good would come of it, but she was in love and wouldn't listen to anyone where he was concerned.

It got her killed, and I'll be damned if I put myself in the same situation for a man who could never love me the way I thought I loved him all those years ago.

I avoided relationships my entire life for several reasons. One, because I knew I could never feel for another the way I felt for him, and two, I convinced myself long ago that I wasn't worth loving romantically. Although I know now those feelings had more to do with immaturity and lack of self-esteem than anything else, it still kept me from opening my heart in a way that would allow someone to hurt me again. Besides, the work I do would never pair well with a successful relationship. I'd have to lie all the time, and trust is paramount to success. I never wanted to make someone feel the way he made me feel when he left.

I push away thoughts trying to infiltrate. It doesn't matter that he, of all people, would understand my work, that we wouldn't have to lie to each other because he'd be doing the same job. It would only give me hope that things could be successful for us in an environment where a relationship isn't even an option.

Wanting something and being able to have it are two very different things.

"You said you don't think they're planning to kill us. So what? You plan to do it yourself?"

"What?" I snap, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my fingers ache.

"You took that corner back there on two fucking wheels, Zayne. Maybe slow it down a little?"

I chance a glance in his direction, and although he sounds unimpressed with my driving, there's no anger on his handsome face.

"Sorry," I mutter. "Just a little anxious, I guess."

I don't bother to explain that my anxiety has everything to do with him and the way we kissed last night, and the way his eyes raked over my body while I was getting dressed, and nothing to do with the meeting we're about to attend.

"We'll be fine," he says, his warm palm pressing against my thigh for the briefest of seconds. I manage to hold back the whimper of need when he pulls it away.

The rest of the drive is silent, other than Zeus telling me which turns to take because he knows the area better than I do.

All too soon, but with only minutes of our meeting time to spare, we pull up outside of a massive tin fence.