She hears the ding again, and realizes that’s what woke her up. The endorphins that flood through her system cancel out the pain in her neck. All of her careful consideration goes out of the window. She has to see him again.
Her phone lies facedown on the kitchen counter. She grabs it up and reads Zane’s text. He wants to get dinner. This time, Penny doesn’t hesitate. She suggests the Mexican restaurant that she works for. It’s always busy, meaning there will be plenty of witnesses if things go sideways.
Penny shoots off the text, then lays her cheek against the cool granite counter top. Zane responds almost immediately.
I have a better idea. See you in ten.
Penny’s heart rises into her throat. Her blood pressure spikes, making her feel suddenly weak. Her mind spins with questions. What does that mean? Is he coming here? How does he know where I live?
She drops the phone on the floor with a clatter.
What if he knows who I am?
“Okay, okay,” Penny says, rubbing her temples. “Get it together. Think.”
Penny marches to her bedroom with the intention of packing an overnight bag and getting the hell out of there. This is what she gets for listening to her ancient, reptilian brain who’s only goal is to reproduce. She’s been so mesmerized by Zane, that she’s forgotten what’s important, finding out what happened to Ben, and not getting herself killed.
She stuffs clothes into the duffel bag, and throws in a few toiletries. The mace is still on the floor in her closet. She grabs the canister, which by now, is leaking with the fiery substance, and her laptop.
With the duffel bag zipped up, she takes a moment to calm herself. She clasps her hand to her mouth, and immediately feels a burning sensation on her lips. The mace. She runs to the bathroom sink and splashes water on her face. But that only spreads it around and makes it worse.
She glares at herself in the mirror. Her face is deeply flushed, and her eyes are watering. She’ll just have to suck it up and go. Zane’s text came in five minutes ago. If he’s a punctual person, and Penny suspects that he is, she doesn’t have much time.
Shouldering the duffel bag, she grabs her keys and throws open the front door. She barely registers Tia brushing against her calves and darting into the apartment. When Penny’s about to close the door, she sees Tia on the counter, her green eyes wide and glowing.
“Fuck,” Penny curses under her breath.
She can’t lock the cat in here. It will starve to death.
Penny approaches Tia slowly, repeating, “Here, kitty,” in the gentle, top register of her voice. Tia stares at her blankly, and nonchalantly lifts her paw. Penny thinks this is going to be easy, that she’s going to scoop up the gray cat and release her in the hallway. Tia darts off at the last second. She jumps from the counter and disappears in the hallway. While trying to decide who’s life is worth more, her own, or the cat’s, a savory, mouthwatering smell wafts up to her nostrils. It’s a homemade, oven baked, seared meat smell that makes her stomach speak up with yearning.
And there’s another smell. A spicy scent of men’s cologne.
“Going somewhere?”
That deep, sexy voice fills Penny with another kind of hunger. She softens her face, and turns around.
Zane is freshly shaved, his hair smoothed back with product. He wears a white collared shirt that’s translucent enough for his beautiful, brown skin tone to shine through. His trousers are black, and tailored perfectly to his tight, muscular form.
Sex on a silver platter, Penny’s lizard brain thinks.
As if Zane doesn’t look tasty enough, he carries a large picnic basket. Penny realizes that’s where the delicious smell is coming from.
“You brought food?” Penny asks, bemused.
Zane hoists the picnic basket onto the counter. “I did. Made by my own two hands.” He slides the wooden top off the basket, and begins to unpack the contents.
Penny watches in awe as his broad, efficient hands work. Zane is so large, he seems to fill up the entire space. Or maybe that’s the confidence he exudes. Penny reasons that Zane wouldn't go to all this trouble cooking the feast he’s laying out before her, only to kill her. It’s possible he still doesn’t know the truth, but she can’t be sure. She wants to ask how Zane knows where she lives, but she’s too afraid. She doesn’t want to challenge him. Obviously, he followed her home after the art museum. The thought brings on a tightening in Penny’s belly. She’s never had someone pursue her like this. It’s an intoxicating rush to be wanted by someone so fiercely, especially by a man who could have his pick of beautiful women.
When Zane finishes, he turns to her, his eyes on the duffel bag hanging from her shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” he asks again.
Penny jerks her head to the bag by her side, grappling for speech. “This? I, um, always keep this bag packed. You know, in case of emergencies. I was just checking my supplies.”
Zane raises the side of his mouth in a half smile, revealing a deep dimple in his cheek. His eyes glimmer as he steps closer to her.
“Are you afraid there will be an emergency tonight?” he asks.
Penny is frozen with fear. Is this when he pulls out the gun and shoots her dead? She should run, but she can’t move her feet. She’s paralyzed as Zane closes the space between them. She can feel the hard ridges of his abdomen as he presses against her.
“You’re smart to be weary of men you barely know,” Zane says, sweeping her hair away from her neck. He levels his eyes on hers, becoming serious. “But I’ll never hurt you, Penny. I hope to prove that to you very soon.”
Penny hears his words, and every cell in her body wants to believe him. If she could truly trust him, if she knew for a fact that Zane would protect, rather than harm her, she’d find the security she’s been looking for all her life. While looking into the depths of his brown eyes, she can’t help but believe him. Her chest puffs out as it fills with air, and she holds it there, waiting.
She feels his hand on the back of her neck. It’s so warm, it immediately relaxes her muscles like a hot compress. She closes her eyes, letting the warmth travel down and invade the rest of her body. For so long, her thoughts have been consumed with righteous justice. It’s a welcome relief to do something just because it feels good.
While her eyes are still closed, she feels Zane lean towards her, then his mouth against hers. His kiss is surprisingly gentle, and his lips are so smooth, so soft and warm. A sparkling sensation travels down her spine, alighting every cell along the way. Her knees buckle beneath her. She sways on her feet, and Zane’s arm clamps around her waist, holding her steady.
Zane pulls back. Penny’s eyes flutter open. She sees him smacking his lips.
“You taste like fire,” Zane says, his voice thick. “What is that? Some kind of lip balm?”
“Yeah,” Penny says sheepishly, thinking of the mace in her duffel bag.
Zane presses his forehead against hers. “I like it.”
Penny closes her eyes again, waiting for another kiss. But it never comes. Zane claps his hands, and it echoes loudly throughout the apartment.
“Let’s eat. We don’t want it getting cold.” He sweeps into the kitchen, and gestures to the dining table. “Have a seat. I’ll fix you a plate.”
Penny does what she’s told, blinking. Her knees are still wobbly from the kiss. Would she be able to handle more from Zane? Would she melt beneath his touch?
Zane finds the plates and silverware and begins to dish out the food.
“There’s beer in the fridge,” Penny offers, trying to pretend like she’s a normal person, and not someone wishing the assassin would rip her clothes off.
Zane grabs two beers from the fridge and cracks them open. He sets one, and a plate full of food in front of Penny. It smells heavenly, and looks even better. Though Penny’s not quite sure what all she’s looking at.
“Are you familiar with Balkan cuisine?” Zane asks.
Penny shakes her head. As a k
id, she was a notoriously picky eater. As an adult, she’s not as picky, but definitely not adventurous.
Zane proceeds to give Penny a guided tour of the plate in front of her. He points to the casserole with a perfectly browned top. “Musaka. It’s layers of ground beef and sliced potato bound together with a white cream sauce. That’s sarma, ground beef and rice rolled in cabbage leaves.” He moves on to the creamy, bright green dish. “Grasak. Or pea stew. It tastes better than it looks. Trust me.”
“It looks delicious,” Penny says.
Since becoming the target of an assassin, Penny’s nerves have only allowed her to eat like a bird. Usually, she shoves an energy bar in her mouth to quiet the inconvenient rumbling in her stomach. Looking at the food before her, her appetite returns, and in full force. She picks up her fork and digs in. Every mouthful is amazing, and Zane is right about the pea stew. It has a deep, unctuous flavor that doesn’t usually come from vegetables.
“This is the food from my childhood,” Zane says, considering a forkful of musaka. “I can still see our home in Bosnia. I can feel the clay surface of the casserole dish Mati used to make the musaka. Traditionally, these dishes call for ground lamb, but I prefer ground beef myself. Maybe I’ve been in America for too long.”
The vulnerability on Zane’s face makes Penny put down her fork and take a break from eating. Hearing about his childhood has humanized him. He talks about his memories with real affection. He can’t be the monster Penny’s made him out to be. Unless, that’s what he wants her to think.
“You made this food yourself?” Penny asks.
“I did,” Zane says, looking away, humbly. “My mother has decided that it’s past time I learned how to cook. She’s been giving me lessons for the past few weeks.”
“It sounds like you’re close to your mother.”
“Very close, on a daily basis,” Zane says, followed by a humorous groan. “She lives with me.”
Penny has to take a bite of pea stew to cover the shock on her face.
“The mortgage on her house became too much of a burden,” Zane continues. “And she’s sick, with emphysema. It seemed like the right thing to do, to take care of her, the way she always took care of me.”
Penny can’t stop the warm smile from spreading across her face. Zane straightens his back, chuckling to lighten the mood. “She’s a good roommate, but I still can’t get her to stop smoking. She’s impossible that way.”
Penny laughs. “She sounds like something else.”
“She is.” Zane reaches across the table and touches Penny’s hand. “You should meet her sometime.”
Penny nods quickly, then takes a swig of beer. He’s already talking about meeting his mother? How seriously is Zane taking this? What else does he see in their future?
When they finish their meal, Zane gathers the plates and stacks them by the sink. There’s a covered dish on the counter that hasn’t been touched.
“I’ll get to the dishes later,” Zane says, uncovering the mystery food. “But we’re not done yet.”
With a paring knife, Zane expertly cuts the food into small squares. He extracts one, and hands it to Penny. The phyllo dough is sticky in her hands. Inside, there are layers of something green.
“Pistachio, not peas,” Zane says with a laugh. “Tell me you’ve had baklava.”
Penny shakes her head while studying the delectable object.
“Then you’re in for a treat.” Zane stands in front of her, looking down at her. “I want to watch you take your first taste.”
Penny bites down into the sweet treat. The phyllo dough has crunch, yet there’s a chewiness about it also. It’s sticky, Penny realizes, because it’s been drenched in honey. The flavor hits her tastebuds just right. She closes her eyes, savoring it. The shudder that runs through her body is something close to orgasmic.
When she opens her eyes, she sees that Zane has leaned in closer to her. He’s studying her face with intent. His jaw is set, and his eyes are dark and narrowed.
“I love to see you squirm with pleasure,” Zane says, his breath hot on Penny’s neck.
Penny feels all of her blood rush to one particular spot between her legs. With her stomach satisfied, another hunger makes itself known. Zane’s smile deepens, as if he can smell it on her. He grasps the back of her head, and pulls her closer to him.
“I want to taste that fire again,” he whispers harshly. “I want to bathe in it.”
Penny is overcome by euphoria. She feels herself being swept up into Zane’s arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist for balance, and she hugs her arms tightly around his shoulders.
Zane cradles her against his chest. He caresses her back, thighs, and ass with slow intent, as if he’s memorizing her every curve. Zane’s delicious cooking and sexual magnetism have shattered Penny’s resistance. She tightens her thighs around him, grinding against his hard stomach. Zane’s eyes blaze as they lock on hers. He kisses her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth like he’s trying to invade her soul.
Zane forces himself to pull away. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asks, gruffly.
Penny knows she wouldn’t be able to tell Zane no, and she doesn’t want to. As soon as she points down the hallway, Zane is heading that way. Zane lays her back on the bed, then throws himself on top of her. The mattress beneath Penny dents sharply, and the bed frame groans under the weight of him. Zane kisses along her collarbone, down her chest, and over the tops of her breasts. He yanks her dress down, and clamps his lips over one of her nipples.
Penny’s back arches sharply as he suckles her tit. Before meeting Zane, sexual desire was an inconvenience, a distraction. Now, it consumes her. While Zane’s hand advances up her thighs, Penny’s rational brain finally becomes louder than her lizard brain. Yes, sleeping with him would be amazing, but then what? This possessive man will really think she belongs to him. Penny still hasn’t decided what she’s going to do about Zane. She feels like she’s playing with fire.
“Wait,” Penny says, breathlessly.
Zane stops immediately, then gives her a questioning look.
“I’m sorry,” Penny whispers. “I’m just not ready. Not yet.”
Zane’s face softens. He takes her hand and kisses it. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. I want you to be ready.” He places his mouth against her ear. “Because when I do take you, you’ll never be the same again.”
Penny has to fight with every once of willpower to not say, “Never mind. Let’s get back to it.”
But Zane is already climbing off of her. He goes into the bathroom, and returns a few minutes later. He lies down next to Penny, spooning her from behind. His body is so warm, she immediately thinks of sleep. Zane hooks his arm around her waist, and kisses the back of her neck. He settles onto the pillow, becoming still.
He means to sleep here, with me, Penny thinks.
As Zane’s breathing slows, Penny knows that it doesn’t matter whether she slept with Zane or not. He already thinks she belongs to him. It’s too late.
The weight of Zane’s arm against her body is a comfort. She knows that with this strong man wrapped around her, nothing will happen to her. For once, she feels secure. She sleeps more peacefully than she has in weeks with the assassin in her bed.
Chapter Seven
Zane is up early, like he is every morning. He enjoys this time of day, the quiet hours of milky dawn when everyone else is asleep. It’s when he feels most in control. He turns on Penny’s electric stove, and cracks two eggs in the pan. The pita bread he brought over last night is warming in the oven. Penny doesn’t have a well stocked fridge, but he’s able to rustle together a few pieces of fruit and some Greek yoghurt. He mixes the apples and blueberries with the yoghurt, then finishes it off with a drizzle of honey. While preparing breakfast, he looks anxiously to the hallway, waiting for Penny to emerge. He’s glad they didn’t have sex last night, because now, he has something to look forward to.
Penny tiptoes out of the hallw
ay while Zane is sprinkling salt onto the fried eggs. She’s wearing a satiny pink robe over a T-shirt and bed shorts. Her eyes are wide, alert, surveying the room. Zane stands close to the stove, watching her before she sees him. This beautiful woman is so nervous, like she’s expecting something to jump out at any minute.
Zane’s cock twitches when he remembers last night. Penny certainly wasn’t nervous when Zane had her pinned to the bed. His face flushes with heat when thinks about how close he was to taking her. When she’d told him to stop, it had been incredibly difficult to honor her wishes. Zane focuses on carefully sliding the fried eggs onto a plate without breaking the yolk, ignoring the intense yearning that roils inside of him.
“Good morning,” Penny says, timidly.
Zane stops what he’s doing to grab Penny’s robe with both hands and pull her towards him. Her mouth twitches nervously when she crashes against his body.
“Good morning,” Zane says, before kissing her.
Her lips are still warm from sleep. Penny grapples at his shoulders, leaning into him as she accepts his kiss. Zane makes himself back off, because he doesn’t know how much longer he can control himself.
“I made breakfast,” Zane says. “Sit.”
Penny bites her lip, her eyes burning into him as she steps back. “Careful. I could get used to this.”
“That’s the plan.”
Zane slides a plate in front of Penny. She eyes it eagerly before digging in.
“This bread is amazing,” Penny says, tearing off a steaming piece of the pita.
Zane sits across from her. “Thank you. Though Mati would still say it’s not quite tender enough. She’s very fussy about her doughs.”
Penny takes a bite of fruit salad, and chews it thoughtfully. Her gaze is fixed on somewhere far off.
“When did you come to America?” Penny asks.
Zane sets down his fork and lowers his head. This isn’t exactly the topic he wanted to explore at breakfast.
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