I wasn’t sure what it was about Zeke. He was a man and childlike, his deep voice contrasting his silliness, his strong, calloused hands opening doors for me. He was no pussy, but he had a soft inner core. Maybe too soft for me. Still, I couldn’t help but tell the truth.

“Maybe.”

He scooted forward on the bed, looking at me from under his brows. “C’mere.”

I didn’t move.

“You don’t have to be such a hard ass with me, Naomi.”

I remained motionless. I wasn’t trying to be a bad ass. I was scared shitless.

“Okay. I’ll come to you, if that’s what I have to do.” He leaned forward and grabbed the arms of my chair to steady himself as his lips touched mine.

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it, because I could feel it throb in my ears, my chest, and between my thighs. His mouth parted, and his tongue slipped inside. The way he moved was both careful and purposeful, his hands turning soft as they cupped my jaw.

He smelled and felt too good. His arms were a vulnerable place to be, so comforting and calming it was most definitely inviting pain to infiltrate just to sometime in the not-too-distant future shatter me from the inside out. His mouth moved against mine, and instead of leaning closer, allowing myself to melt into his embrace, I leaned back. Falling for him was a mistake.

He blinked, confused.

“Um, thanks for tonight,” I said, standing and straightening my shirt.

Zeke leaned back, staring up at me. “Thanks? Did I piss you off?”

“No,” I said, gathering my trash.

“Leave it. I’ll … I’ll take care of it later, just … don’t leave.”

I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I have to. Good night.”

As I rushed outside to the FJ, my phone buzzed.

Come back, Zeke texted.

No.

Please?

No.

Okay. I hope we’re still good. Thanks for having dinner with me tonight.

I couldn’t respond. There was nothing I could say to make him—or me—feel any better.

The FJ revved as I pushed the engine to the limit to get me home as quickly as possible. It was both a relief and lonely when I walked through the door. I tossed my keys into the shallow bowl on the entry table then turned on the kitchen light, sighing at the dirty dishes in the sink.

Despite wanting so badly not to care, I kept checking my phone for a new text. When the notification finally sounded, it wasn’t Zeke.

She’s perfect, Trex texted.

I smiled. Shut up.

She wants space.

Then give it to her.

He didn’t text back, so I started the dishwasher and got undressed for bed. The moment my head sunk into the pillow, my phone lit up.

I have to, don’t I?

Yes.

Fuck.