Page 39 of Bound

Why it hurt when I thought he hated me.

Why my stomach was in knots thinking that he might not show this morning, that he might change his mind and leave me standing here, alone and?—

“Don’t.”

I blink.

“Don’t think that.”

“What are you talking about?” I whisper as his hand lifts and cups my chin, as he tilts my head and pins me in place with his deep brown gaze.

“No more thinking I hate you.” A gentle sweep of his thumb over my bottom lip. “And no more lies,” he murmurs. “I stayed away before because I know I’m not good for you.”

I open my mouth to protest but he doesn’t give me the chance to form words.

Lightly, he presses down on my lips. “No, sweetheart. You know why.”

And I get it then—the insane reality this man is living in. I want to argue, to speak against those fingers on my lips, to make him see what I see. But…

I also don’t want to ruin this moment.

I’m going on a date with Jackson Hunter, with the man I’ve wanted and fantasized about in equal measure.

It might all blow up in my face—hell, it likelywillblow up in my face, there’s nomightabout it.

But…I want this.

I need it.

I—

“I’m not good for you,” he says again, more quietly, not bothering to hide the pain in his eyes, the shadows of the past. They call to mine, to those old and deep wounds that never seem to fully heal. “But I need to give you this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “I need to give you today.”

“Wh—”

Only, he’s already bending, sealing his mouth over mine, kissing me right here in the lobby, like he doesn’t care who sees me, like he doesn’t care if theteamsees us?—

That thought ricochets through my head in an instant, and I snap back, pulling my lips from his. “The guys?—”

“Don’t give a fuck,” he mutters, weaving his fingers into my hair, drawing me back to him, tasting me slow and deep and easy. So slow that I’m not scared or too frozen to match his pace. So deep that desire blooms in my belly, spreads out to my limbs. So easy that I’m not thinking about all the things I don’t know how to do, all the things I’m not confident about, all the things I might do wrong.

I’m just here.

With him.

“I don’t understand,” I finally murmur, when he pulls back but doesn’t release me.

His fingers sweep lightly over my temple. “Don’t understand what, kitty cat?”

My heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest and my legs might as well be jelly. But Jackson doesn’t let me go, just holds me against him. “This is just…you’re kissing me, holding me, and you hated me?—”

“No.”

The word is fierce enough to snap me out of my pleasure-filled haze.

“I know,” I say, shaking my head, smoothing my hand along his chest. “I mean. I understand now that it wasn’t really hate.” I take a breath. “But this is…a whirlwind, Jackson. I-I’m spinning here—one second you were scowling at me, the next you were chasing me down the halls, and then we were kissing—arekissing and going on a date—” I nibble at my bottom lip. I should just roll with this, not try to make it make sense, especially when, God knows, itwon’tmake sense, and when I’ve had to roll with so many things in my life.

It’s just…

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