Page 41 of Unleashed

There was a beat of silence, then I saw him wince, the hurt flickering across his face like a shadow. Guilt twisted in mystomach. My heart clenched as I wrestled with what I was doing—what we were doing. Was I using him? And if this ended badly, who would be the one to blame?

Probably me.

He cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. “I just want you to know my intentions are real.”

“I know,” I whispered, hating how uncertain I felt. “But I’m not sure I can give you a full commitment yet.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded, accepting my words with more grace than I deserved. The truth was, I didn’t know what I was doing. And the thought that I could end up hurting him, that this could fall apart, scared me more than I wanted to admit.

The trafficon the highway out to Long Island was relentless, but as we ventured further, it thinned out, leaving the open road ahead. The salty tang of the ocean hung in the air, growing stronger the closer we got to Montauk. Finally, Slade turned onto a short driveway lined with neat Belgian block, flanked by a black iron fence that welcomed us into another world. The house, larger than life, rose before us—a hulking structure of cedar and glass, just as grand as the stories I’d heard.

Slade parked the Jag, its engine purring to a stop as he raised the top. I couldn’t help but marvel at the scene before me. Bluestone stairs led up to double wooden doors framed with frosted glass. Hydrangea bushes bloomed in bursts of pink, purple, and blue, their fragrance swirling around me as the ocean breeze stirred them.

“Let’s grab our bags. I’ll give you a tour after,” Slade said, sliding out of the car.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, still caught in awe.

Slade smiled, pulling our suitcases from the trunk. I followed him up the stairs to an wrap around porch, my eyes drinking in the details of the house. He set the bags down to fish out his keys, but before he could open the door, he pulled me toward him, pressing a hard kiss to my lips. I melted into him, letting my hand wander down to the bulge in his pants. I gave him a playful squeeze, feeling his sharp intake of breath.

He groaned against my lips, his eyes darkening. “If you keep that up, we won’t make it to the beach. I’ll take you right here, on the foyer floor.”

“Promises, promises,” I teased, biting back a grin.

With a smirk, he slipped the key into the lock, pushing the door open to reveal an expansive foyer lined with black granite floors. The high ceilings made the space feel even grander, light bouncing off pale walls. A large mirror hung over a glass table that held a vibrant vase, next to which sat a small ceramic bowl where Slade deposited his keys.

As I adjusted my windblown ponytail in the mirror, Slade’s hands came up behind me, cupping my breasts. His fingers teased my nipples, and I caught his gaze in the reflection. His face was a mix of hunger and amusement as he closed his eyes, lost in the sensation.

“Now who’s creating problems?” I chided, though my voice was a little breathless. “Didn’t you get enough last night and this morning?”

He opened his eyes, meeting mine in the mirror. “I can never get enough of you. I might have to quit work and chain you to the bed.”

I turned to face him, laughing softly. “But I have to work.”

He kissed me deeply, the intensity of his desire undeniable. His tongue invaded my mouth, and I welcomed it, tasting the remnants of mint from the gum he’d been chewing earlier. I dragged my nails down his back, pulling a low moan from him.

“Fuck the tour,” he growled. “I need you. Now.”

In seconds, we were half-naked, our clothes strewn across the cold granite. My shorts and panties tangled around my knees, but it didn’t matter—Slade easily slipped inside me. The heat between us was frantic, urgent. His movements were rough, primal, and I clung to him as he pushed me over the edge. We both came hard, collapsing together in a breathless heap.

“You’re a major problem for me, Morgan Kincaid,” Slade panted, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

I ran my fingers through his hair, still catching my breath. “Why is that?”

“Because I want you all the time,” he said, brushing a kiss against my temple.

I smiled, my head still spinning from the intensity of what had just happened. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t work for you anymore. I’d never get anything done. Why is it a problem now? We worked together just fine before.”

He chuckled, his lips hovering over mine. “Because I hadn’t been inside your sweet pussy then. Now that I’ve had you—tasted you, kissed you—you’re impossible to ignore. Why has no man claimed you before this?”

“Men have tried,” I replied, a smirk tugging at my lips. “It just didn’t work out. Besides, I don’t want to be claimed. I want an equal partnership.”

“With me, you’d be nothing less,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to my damp forehead.

I stared up at the crystal chandelier above us, its prisms catching the light. “You make it hard to say no.”

“Then don’t,” he said softly, pulling out of me, his cock still slick with the remnants of our passion. Without bothering to fix his shorts, he helped me up and led me down the hallway to a bathroom decked out in shades of beige and mocha. He retrievedtwo washcloths from a closet, wetting them under the faucet. “Here,” he said, handing one to me.

“I need to pee,” I said, glancing at the toilet.

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