Why was she nervous? It’s not like she liked the guy.

Liar.

Malia wiped her hands on her jeans. She was grateful that she always kept at least a T-shirt and a sweater in her backpack as well as a toothbrush because it helped when she was on the go and didn’t know where she was sleeping for the night. It also helped when she got the random upgrade to a five-star hotel so she could brush her teeth and change clothes.

She raised her fist and knocked on the door, all the while telling herself to calm down. Zephyr was her mentor. She was not into Zephyr. And he’d already shown his own asshole tendencies so she wasn’t really down for that.

You’d like to be down for that.

No. No, she would not. Really, she needed to stop arguing with herself. Yes, he was attractive. Jason Momoa’s just-as-hot younger brother. But she really wasn’t going to do that. She didn’t have time for that. Oh, and hello, he was her mentor, so that was the end of that.

When Zephyr opened the door, he’d changed out of his shirt and wore just a plain white T-shirt and his jeans, his hair was wet and slightly curling along his forehead, and dear God, he smelled incredible. For a long moment, she must have been staring because he cocked his head. “You okay?”

If by okay he meant she wanted to lick him. Words girl. Use your words. “Yeah. Great.”

Zephyr cocked his head and stepped aside. “Come on in. Pizza just arrived. I was lucky enough to grab a shower before.”

“Yeah, me too. I felt better after a bunch of hours in the car.”

In another couple of minutes, there was another knock at the door, and Tom showed up. Apparently, he changed his mind about eating with them. “Yeah, my girlfriend didn’t answer, so I figured I’d grab a bite.”

Zephyr smiled and let him in. Tom gave her a nod as she handed him a paper plate.

For the next forty-five minutes, they made small talk about the project and what they’d seen that day and gave a little bit of info about their backgrounds. It was actually kind of fun. And minute by minute, the tension eased out of her shoulders.

What she hadn’t known was that Tom, like her, was from Philly, which greatly endeared him to her more so than before. Poor Zephyr looked like he felt a little left out once Tom started talking about the best Philly cheese steak spots.

Around a mouthful of pizza, Tom shook his head. “No, no, you gotta go to DeSantos. It’s right by U Pen, on the corner. You can see the line from the university as you're driving up. College kids from classes pouring into the joint.”

She shook her head. “No, south side Monaco’s. I guarantee you, you will die for just a mouthful.”

He laughed. “Okay. It’s not bad. But I’m telling you, DeSantos.”

She shook her head, “Look, most of those kids are transplants; they wouldn’t know a good Philly cheesesteak if it came and bit them on the ass.”

Zephyr chuckled. “So is now a bad time to tell both of you I’ve never had an authentic one?”

Both Malia’s and Tom’s mouths hung open. She stared at him. “Oh my God, and just when we’d formed the truce. I don’t think we can ever speak again.”

Tom clutched a hand over his heart. “I swear to God, I’m with Malia on this one. You need help. Typical New Yorker. You’ve never been to Philly and had a proper one?”

Zephyr grinned and needled them. “What’s the point? We have fantastic ones in New York City.”

Malia legitimately fell over. She considered throwing her pizza crust at him. While she pondered this, Tom’s phone rang. He glanced down on his phone and jumped up immediately. “This is her. I’ll see you guys later.” He picked up his plate, napkin, and soda and tossed them in the trash and the recycling that Zephyr had set up, then headed out the door, answering as he went.

Zephyr chuckled. “I guess he’s in love.”

Malia giggled. “Wow. He was in a hurry.”

“Yeah, he was.”

Cue the sudden tension again. “So—” Malia gathered her plate and her napkin and soda. “I guess I should probably get going too.”

Zephyr laughed and tucked his hand into his back pocket as he leaned against the table that was their makeshift dining table. “We can be friends, right? I mean, now that we’ve got a truce and all.”

Malia swallowed. “Yeah, I guess so. Sorry, it’s all just weird.”

“Yeah, I hear you. For the record, I am really sorry. I know we’ve talked about it before, but I don’t know, this whole scenario is kind of like the fucked-up cherry on top of the completely wrecked cupcake or whatever.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. I totally overreacted. I’m so used to having everything together. I don’t like it when someone questions that.”

“Well, if the class standings are anything to go by, you’ve been doing a great job. So, as your mentor, I’m thrilled to have you.”

“Well, I’m happy to be on this team.” Did that sound wooden to him? It sure sounded all good to her. “So why Tanashi anyway?”

Zephyr blew out his breath and ran his hands through his hair. “Well, it’s kind of a long story.”

Malia shrugged. “C’mon, I’m curious. You’re not the only who does research.” She was genuinely curious. From his bio, she knew he’d come from Columbia. And while Carnegie was a great school, and Tanashi was a huge deal—still. Columbia.

His lips tweaked in a slight smile. “I think I need more alcohol for the finer points of the story, but suffice it to say that my life was kind of a shit show. Personally anyway. School was great. And the fellowship was a way to get out of New York for a while. You know, change of scenery and all that.”

She nodded. “Being here is kind of a lifeboat for me—a little distance from my family.”

Zephyr’s laugh was like the low, rumbling roar of a male lion. And dangerous though it might have been, it made her want to cuddle closer. Not that she was going to do that because she wasn’t a fool.

“I know all about a family that’s too close for comfort. Truth be told, I came to Pittsburgh to escape mine. Too much meddling. It gets claustrophobic.”

She shrugged. “Well, meddling is usually a sign that someone cares about you. Not all of us are so lucky.”

He frowned a little. “You have siblings?”

She nodded even as she shifted on her feet. “One truth and an apology for a lie? Yeah, Eva. Sorry about the fake name thing, again.”

He laughed and clapped his hands together. “Yeah, okay, all is forgiven. Is she younger or older?”

“Oh, she’s younger. In high school. She’ll be sixteen in December and she’s this smart, sparkly, bundle of energy. She’s pretty amazing.”

“What about your parents?”

She couldn’t help the wince. It was automatic. It still hurt like hell. “They died. Eighteen months ago. Car accident.”

He cursed low and hung his head. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. My mom passed when I was six. While I remember her, the pain of it isn’t fresh.”

She nodded. “I keep thinking that whenever my phone rings, it’s going to be one of them checking in on me, you know?” She asked, “So your dad raised you?”

“No. I never knew my dad. I was adopted after my mom died. Great big family.”

“Wow. That’s good. You were really young.”

“Yeah, they were great. They are great. Over-meddling, pains in the ass, but they’re the kind of family TV shows are made out of, you know?”

She smiled at that. “So were you as much of an asshole then as you are now?”

He laughed. “Probably.” When she lifted a brow, he chuckled low. “Okay definitely. Getting adopted was … an adjustment.”

“I can imagine. You were talking about your mom?”

He nodded. "I mean, we didn't have much. She'd left her lucrative job and essentially run away to where she'd grown up. But she didn't have any more family. Her parents were gone, she had one or two friends, but that was it. But we were happy, I guess." He shook his head. "I don't really have a lot of memories of her. But when I go to bed, I can almost smell her shampoo or whatever."

She nodded. "That makes sense. Deep, subconscious memories."

"Anyway, like I said, we didn't really have much. She had a really small life insurance policy. It took care of her funeral expenses and there was a little bit left over, sure, but there was no one left to take care of me. I essentially went to foster care. But I was luckier than most. Even the homes that weren't a fit weren't bad. My caseworker eventually sent me to a family she knew who had taken a teenage boy, I guess. And they were open to fostering more. So off I went. They were a ready-made family.

“I was scared. Alone. I was shoved in with this foster family I didn't know. When you already don't have any of your stuff, and the only person on earth who loved you is gone …" He shook his head. “It was scary.”

Malia sniffed and tried to blink back tears. She didn't even know him, and already she could understand how that little six-year-old boy felt.

"So anyway, there I go to live with the Donovans. Dad, he's like a lawyer type. More like small-town law firm or whatever. Their house was huge. At least to me. It seemed bigger when I was smaller, I guess. To me they had all the space to have a living room that no one used. And had a sunroom area that was crazy. I’d pretty much shared a studio with my mom. The mom was a doctor. She was so kind. I still remember the first day I met her.”

“I imagine it's burned on your memory.”

He nodded. “It is. She got down on her haunches and just met my gaze. And she said, ‘I'm so sorry you lost your mom. That must make you very sad. If you let us, we'd like to take care of you for a bit, as long as you need.’"

Malia smiled. “She knew exactly what to say."

He nodded. "She did. She spoke to me and understood that I was scared and alone, you know?" He shrugged. "Anyway, the Donovans, they fostered me for a while, but before I knew it I was calling them Mom and Dad. And I had more siblings than I could count. There was all this love. But it wasn't always easy. And I probably made Mom and Dad's lives hell.”

She laughed. “Don't tell me you were a troublemaker.”

That sexy grin flashed. “I was a troublemaker. At first, I would do things to see if they'd send me back. I guess I was kind of trying to validate that I didn't deserve to be loved because the only person who ever loved me left me. I knew she died. It hadn't been her fault. The doctor said she had pneumonia. I asked. But it still felt like abandonment to a little kid.”

“I'm sure she loved you very much.”

He nodded. “I know. So anyway, I used to get in trouble. At school, I got into fights. Anything to try and push their buttons. But then Dad took me aside one day, got on my level and he said, ‘You can do your worst. But you're part of his family. We're not sending you back unless you decide to go back. So make our lives hell, do what you have to do. We're not letting you go.’"

Zephyr shook his head. "God, I was seven, maybe eight. And I'd spent a year tormenting them. Stealing food, refusing to eat. Anything I could think of that would piss them off enough to send me back. Nothing. They just kept on going. And every night they said, ‘You are part of this family. We’re not leaving. So you stay as long as you want to stay.’"

"Jesus, they sound incredible."

He nodded. "They are. My point is that I know what it's like to be scared and alone and to refuse to let anyone help you, no matter how foolhardy that seems at the time."

Before she knew it, the tears were streaming down her face. This was not the conversation she wanted to have. She didn't want anyone to see how tired she was, how much any of this hurt. But it was too late for that, because Zephyr Donovan could see right through her.

He changed the subject. “In class the other day, you had a flag on your notebook. It was on your backpack too. What’s it of?”

She grinned at that. “That’s the Cape Verdean flag. That’s where my parents are from. Well I guess, technically, they were both first generation. Both sets of grandparents are from Cape Verde. You know, immigrants in America, trying to make a better life for their kids and whatnot. Mom and Dad met at some, like, big old Cape Verdean picnic when they were like eighteen or whatever. Some grand love story.”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Is it bad that I don’t even know where Cape Verde is?”

She laughed. “Hey, at least you copped to it instead of nodding as if you know exactly where it is and then when I’m gone go and Google it.”

He chuckled again. “One truth and one lie. I was not going to go and Google it. I totally know where it is. Can you spot the lie there? So, where is it?”

“Off the coast of West Africa. My mom used to joke that the people of the islands are a bag of M&Ms. You know—every color of the rainbow.”

“That probably explains the blond hair and green eyes. Also the afro. I couldn’t figure it out.”

Malia shrugged. “Usually when my hair is straight, people try and place me as maybe Tahitian or something. But the curly afro confuses them. Where was your mom from?”

Zephyr shrugged. “You know, I have no idea. She was blond, but that could have easily been a dye job. The memories I have of her are there from when I was a little kid, so I don’t quite remember. My best guess, my dad was maybe Asian. Who knows though? It could be anything. Maybe one day I’ll do a genetic test or something. I don’t generally think about it very much. My parents, they adopted all of us from all over the place. So, I guess like Cape Verde, my house is like a bag of M&Ms.”

“I like that. How many siblings do you have?”

“Eleven.”

She stared at him. “Are you joking?”

“No, I really wish I was sometimes. We range in ages from about twenty-seven to sixteen. The house is a zoo usually, but it can be awesome.”

“I used to wish Eva and I had more siblings. But you know, we’re good. We’re a team.”

It was easy to talk to him. Maybe too easy. The nerves wore off and eventually there were sparks and hints of the guy she’d met at the faculty function. Before she knew it, it was late. Like way the hell past her bedtime. Her gaze focused on the clock. “Shit. It’s midnight.”

His brows lifted. “Geez, I guess when we’re not sniping at each other, we have a lot to talk about.”

She pushed herself up off of the floor. “Well, I can play nice if you can.” She stuck out her hand to shake on it. That was probably her first mistake. Her next mistake came when he clasped his much larger hand around hers and she swayed a little.

The shock of electricity was instant, mildly overpowering. She knew better than to react. She knew to remain unaffected, but it was as if her lady parts said, ‘Yeah, good luck with that.’ She gasped. It was small, minute even. He surely couldn’t have noticed.

But he had. She could see it in his eyes. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared as if he was suddenly hyper aware of her.

She pulled her hand back. “I better get back to my room.”

He stared at her for a second but then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Let me walk you.”

“I think I got it. I’m just a few doors down.”

He put a hand over his heart, playing as if she’d just wounded him. “You just stabbed me in my chivalrous heart. My mother would kill me. Come on. Do you have everything?”

She grabbed the notepad they’d been using for notes on the products. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“All right, come on. Let’s go.”

He opened the door for her and she was careful not to touch him and she bypassed him out the door. He held himself rigidly as well, as if making it a point to acknowledge the distance between them. He walked her down the hall along the corner to her room. The light over her door was dim and they were almost completely secluded. “Well, this is me.”

He nodded. “Okay, good night Malia.”

“Good night Zephyr.”

God, she felt awkward. Because she remembered that first night. The easy flirtation. She liked him. She also remembered the feel of his lips on hers, the feel of his hands.

Hanging out tonight was a mistake. She shouldn’t have done it if she wanted to maintain distance. Her second mistake was letting him walk her to the door. All that did was spark up the electrical charges floating around them.

She took her room key out of her back pocket, swiped it over the magnetic lock and pushed the door handle down. She turned to walk in, but then paused, and gave him one last smile over her shoulder before she waved him off. That was her third mistake. She should never have hesitated.

Maybe she shouldn’t have looked back. Maybe if she hadn’t waited for some reaction from him—something, anything. But she did look back and then something broke between the two of them.

* * *

Zephyr knew what he should have done. He knew what the rules were. He just didn’t especially give a shit in that moment. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. She’d been standing there with her wide, dark eyes, the moss green speaking to him, calling to him. Her lips slightly parted, and something in him shattered.

Yeah, dumbass. Your self-control.

Because the moment his lips touched hers, he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. Her lips were soft, and her tongue met his tentatively. It wasn’t until her hands tightened in his shirt that he lost full handle of the situation.

With a growl, he slid his hands into her curls, tightening his grip, angling her head so he could sink in deeper.

Malia parted her lips, and that angel that had been on his shoulder before, the one telling him he couldn't do this, the one telling him where the line was, well, the devil killed that angel.

One deep and stroking lick into her mouth, and that was that. Zephyr eviscerated the line.

Kissing the girl that he shouldn't want. Kissing the girl that he shouldn't have. Kissing the girl that put his future in jeopardy.

But he couldn't stop.

He didn’t mean for it to go so far. But she tasted so good. A little spicy from the pepper she’d eaten on the pizza. And a little sweet, like the cola she’d washed it all down with. Her hair was still damp from her earlier shower and she smelled fucking incredible.

The little mewling sound she made at the back of her throat just drove him further. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t process information. God help him, he was unable to make any kind of decisions right now. His synapses were fried. He’d scorched every single one of them with one lick of her tongue.

With a low growl, Zephyr backed her up against her door, bending his knees slightly and angling her just how he wanted. Finally, he just gave up the ghost and picked her up. His hands were on the back of her thighs and just like that, he hoisted her up.

God, she was so small. This worked out perfectly because then he could brace her against the door. And just—yeah, right fucking there. His dick pressed against his zipper, throbbing, begging to be let free. To seek out her heat.

Malia rocked her hips into his. And he couldn’t help but answer every roll of her hips with one of his.

Jesus Christ, why was she so—

The moment she scored her nails in his hair and over his scalp, the shiver of need went through the entire length of his body. And he couldn’t fucking focus. Jesus Christ, if they kept this up then he was going to fuck her against this wall.

Just take her right now and give two shits about consequences later.

His dick pressed against her molten heat, and she whimpered. All they could do was fight to hold on for the ride. The molten lava spread through his veins singeing the nerve endings. And when she rocked her hips into him, he bit out a curse.

He swallowed every single whimpered moan as he devoured her. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. His hands gripped her ass and he dug his fingers into her flesh. He needed more. Wanted more.

The stretch of skin displayed by her T-shirt tempted him. Taunted him. He needed to know how soft she was. Just a taste and he could stop. One taste and he’d pull back.

The hell you will.

He slid a hand under the soft cotton. Oh, fuck, yes. Jesus, she was soft. His fingers skimmed over her skin, and she trembled in his arms. And he wanted to pull that kind of reaction from her all the time. When his thumb traced over the edge of her bra, she arched her back.

Don’t do it. You can’t do this.

The angel on his shoulder tried valiantly with one last protest. But the devil that had taken over his soul was having none of it. He traced his thumb over her nipple and her grip tightened in his hair as she rocked her hips.

Yes. All he wanted was her with her clothes off, in bed, with her beneath him, shouting his name.

A sharp, piercing ring tried to slash through the foggy haze of lust. But the need and tension managed to keep it at bay until it rang again … and again. What the hell?

Malia drew back, her gaze half lidded, her lips swollen and soft. He licked his lips, tasting her, wanting his lips back on hers again. But there was that ringing again, finally breaking through the ‘I don’t give a shit about the consequences’ haze.

Oh. Fuck. Him.

What the fuck have you just done?

Malia shook of the haze at the same time he did, clarity sharpening her gaze.

He released her and tried to step back, despite the tree trunk in his jeans. “Malia. I—”

Her fingers played over her lips, and she shook her head. She frantically tried to open the door behind her. When she managed the magnetic lock again, she, turned it and tumbled backward.

Shit. “Let me help you up.”

But she didn’t take his hand. Instead she scooted back. “No. I got it. I think it’s probably a good idea you don’t touch me anymore.”

She has a point there.

“C’mon, at least let me—”

From where she sat, just inside her room, she scooted back some more, then very deliberately kicked the door closed with her foot.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Congratulations. You fucked that right up. So much for a truce.

* * *

Malia shook as she turned and leaned against the door. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stay the hell away from him?

Well you have to. That scholarship is your lifeline. Don’t screw it up all because you have pussy for brains.

All she had to do was stay the hell away from him. It didn't matter what her body wanted. This was about survival. Besides, she knew what happened when she cared about people. They left her.

Not going to happen this time. Mind over matter.