14. Zaria #3
He stares at me like I've said something incomprehensible. Like the idea of him leaving is so far from reality that he can't even process why I'd suggest it.
"No." Simple. Absolute. "I told you weeks ago that I'm not going anywhere. Haven't I proven that?"
"You've been avoiding me." The accusation comes out sharper than I intended, revealing more hurt than I want to admit.
"Five days, Greer. You handled Rasheed, left me another gift, and then nothing.
I've been checking your usual spots, asking around, trying to find you while pretending I wasn't, and you just disappeared like you got what you wanted and decided you were done. "
Something changes in his expression—heat replacing the defensive anger, hunger replacing the frustration. He closes the remaining distance between us in two steps, his hands coming up to brace against the brick on either side of my head, caging me in with his body.
My breath catches. This close, I can smell him—cedar and something darker, something that makes my pulse race despite everything. Can feel the warmth radiating off him through the cold air, see the way his pupils dilate as he looks down at me.
"I was giving you space." His voice is rough, intimate, the kind of tone meant for bedrooms instead of alleys. "You ran the second we finished in my kitchen. Grabbed your bag and disappeared without looking back. I thought that meant you wanted distance."
"So you just decided to take a step away?" The words come out breathless because he's so close and I want him so badly it physically hurts. "Without talking to me? I left to handle business. You know that."
"You could've taken me with you. But we both know how you work.
" His mouth is inches from mine, close enough that I can feel his breath against my lips.
"That you take what you want and don't apologize for it?
You wanted space, so I gave you space. Even though I've been going fucking crazy not seeing you, not touching you, lying awake replaying how you tasted and wondering if I'd ever get to do it again. "
Heat floods through me at his words, at the raw honesty in them. My hands come up automatically, fisting in the front of his henley, and I hate that I'm already pulling him closer instead of pushing him away like I should.
"You always follow me around like a good boy." I force my voice to stay steady, teasing, falling back on old patterns because they're safer than admitting how much his absence hurt. "Why was this different?"
His eyes flash, something dark and possessive moving behind them. One hand leaves the wall to grip my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
"Because knowing what your cum tastes like changes things.
" The words are low, filthy, making my stomach clench with want.
"Because I had you falling apart on my tongue, heard you call me a good boy while I got myself off imagining being inside you, and then you ran.
That's not the same as following you to fights or leaving gifts.
That's personal. That's real. And I wasn't going to chase you down and beg when you made it clear you didn't want it. "
I stare up at him, trying to process this logic while my body screams at me to stop thinking and just take what I want.
He's right—it is different now. The intimacy we shared in his kitchen crossed lines we'd been dancing around for weeks, made everything more complicated and more intense and more dangerous because I can't pretend anymore that this is just attraction or curiosity or the thrill of corruption.
This is something deeper. Something that could hurt me if I let it.
"Why did you leave me another gift?" The question comes out quieter than I intended, almost vulnerable. "Felix in the alley. You could have walked away, but instead you handled my problem while you thought I didn't want you around."
His grip on my hip tightens, his other hand sliding from the wall to cup the back of my neck. The possessiveness in the gesture makes my heart race.
"I'll always look out for you." His green-gold eyes hold mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
"Space doesn't mean I stop protecting you.
Doesn't mean I stop paying attention to your operation and handling threats when I see them.
I'll do whatever it takes to make your life easier, Zaria.
Whether you're in my bed or avoiding me or anywhere in between. "
The words hit me somewhere deep, somewhere I've kept locked down because letting people in that far only leads to betrayal and disappointment.
But Greer isn't promising pretty things or making grand declarations—he's telling me in practical terms that he's taking care of me.
Proving his loyalty through action instead of words.
And I realize, standing in this alley with his body pinning me against brick and his hands claiming possession, that I want to let him in.
Want to stop fighting this pull between us and see where it leads, even though it's dangerous and complicated and could blow up in both our faces.
Want to trust that what I see in his eyes is real, that his gifts aren't manipulation but genuine care, that he understands what I need because he's been paying attention all along.
I want him.