Page 32 of Bound

Pinned between a hard body and a hard door and…

Jackson Hunter is kissing me.

Me.

His fingers flex on my cheek and I look up into deep chocolate pools as he ends the kiss. He doesn’t move away, though, leaves our mouths close enough that our lips brush with every breath.

“Your eyes are like Willy Wonka,” I blurt.

Confusion then amusement in those pools I want to jump into and devour, drink and drink anddrinkuntil I can’t take in any more.

His thumb brushes beneath my bottom lashes but he doesn’t back up, just speaks as I had, our mouths tangling with each new word formed. “Youreyes are like dark chocolate. I want to spread it on your naked body and lick it off inch by luscious inch.”

I shiver, blurt again, “You kissed me.”

“I did.” He bends a little. “You didn’t kiss me back.”

I hadn’t, I realize. I just stood here, pressed to the door by all of his lean strength, and…didn’t do anything except spew weird awkwardness about fucking Willy Wonka.

My cheeks burn, and I know they’ve got to be bright red, but before I can say something—anything—to make this whole thing less cringey and intense, Jackson keeps talking.

“Is it because I overstepped?” he asks softly. “Or because you don’t know how?”

My lungs inflate in a rapid rush that has me choking on my own spit. “I—” I cough, bending at the middle, nearly braining myself on his hard shoulder. “I?—”

“Easy,” he murmurs softly, returning his hand to my cheek, slipping his other behind me and settling it between my shoulder blades, drawing me against his body. He smooths his palm slowly up and down my back. “Easy now, kitty cat.”

I’m dying of embarrassment inside.

But his touch, the soft words and steady stroking settle me in a way that I’m never felt before.

Like my body knows it can finally take a breath, can finally ease some of the heavy load off my shoulders.

Can justbe.

And for a moment, I do just that—stand in the circle of his arms, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the strength of him.

Then…

I remember myself.

What I admitted. What I’m doingnow.

I jerk back so fast that I whack my head against the door.

“Ow,” I groan, rubbing the aching spot?—

At least until my hand is brushed away. “I told you easy, sweetheart,” he chastises quietly, gently massaging the spot. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“You told me a lot of things,” I mutter. “But I?—”

“I’m an asshole,” he says baldly. “And I was fucking scared when you found what you found?—”

“I—”

“You wouldn’t use it against me.” Gentle fingers sifting through my hair. “I know that now. I just…I’m not a good person, kitty cat.”

I think he’s wrong.

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