Page 14 of Cupid's Beau

“Probably,” I agree breathlessly, even as I arch into his touch.

With what seems like immense effort, Jack lifts his head. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his hair is mussed where I’ve been running my fingers through it.

“Walk me up?” I ask before I can lose my nerve.

He takes a deep breath, then steps back slightly, though he keeps hold of my hand. “To the stairs.”

The way he says it - firm but regretful - makes me want to kiss him again. Instead, I let him lead me to the staircase, our fingers still linked.

At the bottom step, he brings our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. His lips are full, warm, soft. And I already miss them on mine.

“Goodnight, Neneh.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

I’m halfway up when I hear him say softly, “Sweet dreams.”

I fall asleep with a smile on my face, the memory of our kiss still tingling on my lips.

3

Chapter 3

The morning sun streams through my window, and I stretch lazily, still wrapped in the warmth of last night’s memories. Jack’s lips on mine, his hands on my body, the way he said my name…

A smile spreads across my face as I reach for my phone, expecting my usual morning notifications.

Instead, I find:

JACK ELLIS SPOTTED: Secret Romance in Small Town?

Hollywood’s Most Eligible Bachelor Off the Market?

EXCLUSIVE: Inside Jack Ellis’s Hidden Getaway

My stomach drops as I hear voices outside - lots of voices. I rush to my window, still in my sleep clothes, and my heartsinks. There must be two dozen people crowded around the inn’s entrance, cameras flashing. News vans line our quiet street.

From downstairs comes the sound of Jack’s voice, sharp with anger. “No, Sandra, you don’t understand. This isn’t just about me. These people - it’s their home - they don’t deserve this circus.”

My own phone starts ringing. My agent’s name flashes on the screen.

“Malik, I-”

“Have you seen TMZ?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “They have pictures of you two dancing. Through the window.”

Last night feels like a faraway dream now, shattered by the harsh morning light and the sound of cameras clicking outside.

“I need you to go downstairs,” Malik says. “Jack’s agent is on speaker with him. We need to figure this out.”

I throw on jeans and a sweater, trying to tame my hair into something presentable. The whole way down the stairs, I’m bracing myself for Jack’s reaction. Will last night’s warmth be completely gone? Does he regret everything?

I find him in the kitchen, pacing like a caged lion. He’s already dressed, hair damp from a shower, but the relaxed man from last night has vanished. His jaw is set, shoulders rigid with tension. Still hot as hell, but scary.

He stops when he sees me. For a moment, something flickers in his eyes - something that makes my heart skip - but then his phone crackles with his agent’s voice.

“Jack? Neneh?” She sounds all business. “So this is what we’re thinking. The story’s already out there. Instead of denying it, we control it.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Jack’s voice is cold.

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