Page 83 of Unleashed

He sighed, his hand slipping away from my body as he took a step back. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with,” he said. “Is that better?”

I looked away, feeling the weight of my indecision. “I’m not there yet.”

Michael’s jaw clenched, his tone cooling. “Does that mean I have to share you?”

“What if it does?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“I don’t want to share you, Morgan,” he said, his eyes flashing with intensity. “I want you.”

I swallowed hard, the tension between us thick enough to choke on. “Let it go for now,” I said quietly, not sure what else to say.

“Can you at least tell me why you’re holding back?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of frustration. “Why don’t you want to be committed to me?”

“I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you,” I admitted, the truth slipping out before I could stop it.

“You won’t,” he said, stepping closer again, his voice softening. “I know you won’t.”

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by everything—by him, by Slade, by my own confusion. “I should go,” I said, my voice faltering.

Michael’s expression tightened, the warmth between us evaporating. He withdrew his hand from my shirt, the cool air hitting my skin like a slap. “If that’s what you want.”

Without another word, he turned and walked back to his office, his retreating figure stark against the backdrop of our unresolved mess.

I stood there, staring at the space he’d left behind, feeling the pull of two men, knowing that sooner or later, I’d have to choose.

CHAPTER 17

Michael had been a ghost all week. No calls, no texts, and no sign of him in the office. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to talk, especially after I had tried to keep things casual. Yet his cold shoulder stung more than I cared to admit. I told myself it was just his attitude that upset me, but deep down, I knew better.

To distract myself, I threw my time into Slade. When he invited me to his Montauk home for the long weekend—three whole days of July Fourth relaxation—I jumped at the chance. He even asked a few friends along, so I invited Erika and her latest boyfriend, a guy who owned car dealerships. The weekend promised to be just what I needed.

On Thursday evening, Slade came over while I packed. He sprawled out on my bed, casually propping his head on my pillows. He looked devastatingly handsome with three-day stubble that added a rugged edge to his usual clean-cut appearance.

"Are you planning on shaving?" I asked, tossing a few dresses into my suitcase.

He grinned lazily. "Does it bother you?"

"It bothers me in certain spots."

Slade’s grin widened, playful and cocky. "You mean I gave you a rash between your legs?"

"Asshole," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "This is your fault, you know."

"My fault that you’re orally fixated?"

"No," I shot back, biting my lip as a smirk played at the corner of my mouth, "that you taste so damn good."

Slade laughed, a low rumble. "I’ve never been with a woman who tasted as good as you do."

I paused, glancing at him over my shoulder. "Is that supposed to flatter me?"

He shrugged. "It should. You know I’ve dated my fair share of women."

"I do," I replied, rummaging through my drawer, pulling out bikinis. "Still…"

His eyes followed my movements, then lit up as he saw one. "That silver one—bring it."

"The one I wore a few weeks ago?"

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