Page 7 of Jack's Devotion

"There's a difference between shady and evil. Plotting to murder your own kid to get their money is light years beyond shady."

"You're not wrong. Why come back?"

"My birthday."

"You inherit on your birthday?"

"Unless he has me declared dead," I mutter, nodding. "If he does, my mom's company and her money go to him by default, and the years I spent hiding will be for nothing."

"Hell no," Jack growls, his eyes locked on my face. "He's not getting your money or your company."

I gape at him, shock thrumming through me. He believes me? Just like that? With no evidence or proof?

"You believe me?" I whisper, tears stinging my eyes.

"Believe you?" He laughs incredulously, cupping my cheek. "Baby, I'm going to help you."

"Help m–"

"Fucking hell," he groans, gently dragging me closer. His lips crash down on mine in a hard kiss. I gasp as his tongue flicks against my bottom lip, sending heat ripping through me.

He growls like a hungry lion and takes that tiny opening, slipping his tongue in to play with mine. The man kisses me likehe's going to die if my taste isn't all over him right now…which has me kissing him back the same way.

Some part of my brain screams that this is a bad idea. But the rest of me doesn't want to hear anything that rational part says. It's too busy short-circuiting. And I'm too busy wrapping my hands up in his shirt to yank him closer.

The scrapes on my palms throb in protest, pulling a whimper from my lips.

"Fuck," Jack growls, ripping his mouth from mine. His eyes are on fire and he's panting as he stares down at me, gently loosening my grip on him. His gaze lands on my palms. "You're hurt."

"They're just scrapes."

The look on his face tells me thatjust scrapesmight as well be mortal wounds as far as he's concerned. So does the way he tucks me up against his chest and then rises to his feet, holding me carefully.

"I can walk, Jack," I whisper.

"Good to know." He strides into the small bathroom before carefully flicking on the lights and then setting me on the counter.

I watch him, wary, as he prowls through cabinets before coming back with a first aid kit in his hands.

"Hands, baby."

I huff and then thrust them out toward him.

"You're cute when you're cranky, you know that?" He smirks as he sets to work cleaning the scrapes, his hands gentle.

"I'm not cranky." I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, you are." His gaze flicks to my face before dropping back to my hands. "Think you'll be this cranky when you're carrying my kid?"

"Carrying your…" I splutter, gaping at him. What kind of mafia romance does he think we're living in here? "Uh, maybewe should get your head checked. There's no freaking way I'm having your kid just because I broke in here!"

"Baby." His body shakes with laughter. "You aren't having my kid because you broke in here. You're going to have my kid because youwantmy kid."

"You definitely need your head checked. Where is your phone? I'll call an ambulance. Do you have a doctor? Take pills? Maybe we should call your brother. Oh my gosh." I gasp, staring at him with wide eyes. "You haven't been home because you're an inpatient somewhere, aren't you? Did you escape?"

He only laughs harder. And God, that laugh is downright sinful. It's dark and deadly and…sinful. Like sticky chocolate. "There's not a goddamn thing wrong with me, Madison. Well…" He grimaces, subtly adjusting his cock. "Nothing that can't wait anyway. I have shit to do first."

"Like what?"

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