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Mathieu’s eyes flashed and his lips curved in a non-smile. “There’s no way I’m allowing Jairo to get away with shooting you.” His gaze was soft where it landed on Win’s face. “You should know that.”
Win sat upright. “I’m not following.” Though, something heavy settled in his gut.
“I know where Jairo’s warehouses are.” Mathieu stood and held out a hand to Win, who took it, allowing Mathieu to tug him to his feet. “While we’re at the meeting, my men will be making moves. ”
Win yanked his hand from Mathieu’s, gaping at him. “You didn’t tell me you were planning something like that!”
Mathieu cocked his head, a sudden tension appearing in the lines of his body. “This bothers you?”
Win rolled his eyes. “I want the conflict between the three of us resolved,” he said sharply. “I don’t want us to always be looking over our shoulder.” He paused. “And I also think there are outside forces at work here who want to see you and Jairo kill each other. Or at the very least, weaken you.” He’d told Mathieu that before, but it was worth repeating. “Don't give in to them so easily.”
Mathieu stared at him for a long beat then blew out a breath and retook his hand, pulling Win into his chest. “I sometimes forget how smart you are. And that you have a bleeding fucking heart. And also sometimes you make sense,” he grumbled.
Win wrapped his arms around Mathieu’s waist, laying his head on his broad chest. “There are some pretty good reasons for you and Jairo to not like each other, but I think you have more in common than you think.”
“Like loving you?”
Win tipped his head back, meeting Mathieu’s eyes. “Jairo doesn’t love me.”
Mathieu’s expression was almost pitying when he said, “I saw it in his eyes the day at the house; you hurt him deeply and that could only happen if he’d let you into his heart.”
Win stared at him. “But that—that wasn’t our arrangement. We weren’t that type.” He and Jairo had spent countless hours talking about that, agreeing their relationship would be platonic in all aspects. They’d chosen each other specifically because they didn’t want romantic feelings. So why would Jairo have feelings for him?
“Hey.” Mathieu cupped his jaw. “You—more than anyone—know that feelings change. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here in my arms right now.”
No, he wouldn’t. Because when Mathieu broke his heart, Win was convinced he wanted nothing to do with the other man ever again. He was convinced there was no way he could ever forgive. But people changed. Feelings changed, too. So, Jairo’s feelings for him had changed? When? And why hadn’t Win ever noticed?
It was time he and Jairo had a serious discussion. “Whatever you’ve set in motion, call it off,” he told Mathieu, pulling out of his arms. “We’ll reevaluate after the meeting.”
Mathieu didn’t speak. He simply watched Win, hands shoved into his pockets, lips curved, gaze tender and…almost approving.
“What?” Win asked him.
Mathieu shrugged. “Nothing, I just…missed this. You.”
Win faced him squarely. “You want me?” His face and neck burned. He hadn’t meant to ask that.
Mathieu’s eyebrows shot up. “I think what happened on that bed in the safe house speaks for itself.”
“Yes, but that was almost two days ago.”
Mathieu licked his lips. “You want reassurance.” Not a question.
“I want to know if you just want to fuck me or if you have something else in mind. I think I deserve that at the very least.”
“Ah, Win.” Mathieu closed the tiny distance between them in one stride, palming the side of Win’s face. His eyes were deep and dark, gaze reverent. “You deserve so much more than that. Than me.” He swallowed. “I want you.” A rasp, rough and arousing. “I want your presence in my house, in my office, your reasonable voice in my ear. I want your taste on my tongue and your touch on my skin. And yes, I want you in my bed.”
Win inhaled sharply.
“But most of all…” Mathieu’s words paused, but his fingers moved, mapping the curve of Win’s jaw. “I want your forgiveness. I want your love. I want your belief in me, in us. I want, when you look at me, for you not to see all the ways in which I fucked up.”
Win couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t wrangle his tongue to speak. His mind was blank. Mathieu’s words short-circuited his brain. He could only blink at the other man.
A knock came on the door. “Boss.” Jason, always interrupting. He opened the door and poked his head in. “If you want to make that meeting, we gotta head out now.”
Win didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and continue this discussion with Mathieu. But that was his selfish heart talking. He stepped away from Mathieu and squared his shoulders. “Let’s go.”
30
