He didn’t stop until he was close enough for her to drink in his scent. Heat radiated off his body, and an answering bone-deep ache ignited inside her.
When his warm palm cupped her cheek, she tried again to recite the reasons why this wasn’t a good idea. But his touch fritzed her circuit, and logic and reason became a memory that remained just out of reach.
Closing her eyes, she placed her hand on his muscled forearm, marveled at the softness of the hairs beneath her fingers, and turned her head to kiss his palm.
His other hand came up to frame her face, forcing her to meet his hungry, tortured eyes. Something cracked in the center of her chest, and she could no longer draw breath.
What had happened to cause him such pain? Such grief?
She’d been a fool to listen to Johona. Even with all of her training, Liv didn’t have the tools to help him. Sure, she could give him—them—a hit of euphoric morphine. But when they both came off their shared high, the rock bottom would be harder, more jagged than ever.
Yet, she didn’t—couldn’t—pull away. Couldn’t stop staring into his eyes, trying to heal him with the sheer force of her will.
When her gaze traced a languid path to his mouth, she stretched upward on her toes.
He seemed to be waiting for that telltale cue of permission, for he tightened his grip on her face and slanted his mouth over hers. His kiss wasn’t gentle, nor was it painful.
The sensual pressure sparked every one of her nerve endings. The feel of him, the taste of him. It was all so thrillingly familiar yet excitingly new.
Angling her head, she drew him deeper into the kiss. But a small, reality-check section of her brain kicked in, reminding her of where they were and the obstacles lodged between them.
She slowed the kiss, bringing it to an end. Before she could pull away, Zeke rested his forehead against hers. The intimacy infused in that gentle contact made her throat clench.
“I’ve wanted to do that for days,” he said in a rough voice. His warm breath buffeted her swollen, damp mouth.
“Me too.”
“Come back to the Friary with me,” he urged.
The temptation was strong. So strong that words of consent formed on her tongue. But going any further with him could only mean pain in her future.
Unable to stop herself, she pressed her lips to his again, savoring the feel and the taste and the scent of him one last time. When she stepped back, confusion flashed through his dark eyes before understanding settled in.
How had she let things spiral out of control between them? She’d come here on a misguided notion that she could help him understand his value to BARS. Instead, she had compounded the problem by adding one more perceived failure to his list.
He could not know, would never know, how close she’d been to ignoring all her warning bells and losing herself in Zeke Blackwell for a few mind-shattering hours.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.
He was silent for a long moment, then the hard lines around his mouth and eyes smoothed out. “Sleep well. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Regret and unspent passion tangled in her chest as she turned to leave. When she opened the door, Zeke called out to her.
“Once we recover the asset,” he said in a low, determined voice, “our professional partnership ends.”
Bittersweet warmth filled her chest. “I’ll still be the mother of a nine-year-old boy who misses his father, and you’ll still be leading a complex, demanding business.” She stepped into the night air. “A fact that won’t change tomorrow night.”
Before she shut the door, she heard his resigned murmur, “No, it won’t.”