Page 29 of Unleashed

But that was before three years of no work, of depending on friends for the roof over my head. Now? Here I stood, doing exactly what I said I’d never do, to a man who could make my heart race with a single look.

Jack stood; swung my laptop bag over his shoulder. He eyed Bright’s pack with the wariness of someone who’d learned to respect my cat’s particular brand of feline fussiness. “I’ll walk you home. But I’m not sure about hauling him around on my back.”

I snorted, grateful for the momentary distraction from my guilt. “He’d yowl loud enough to wake the dead. He’s a bit particular.” I gently eased the cat carrier onto my back, then held my hand out for the laptop case. “I can carry my own stuff.”

“Sure you can. But why would you?”

“It’s just a couple blocks. I don’t need an escort.” But God, I wanted one. The conflicting emotions threatened to tear me apart. I needed to push Jack away, reestablish the professional distance between us. Insulate myself against the derision I would see in his eyes the second the bye-week episode aired.

When he realized I’d chosen my career over him.

“Indulge me, Sutton.” He motioned toward the exit, his voice a low rumble that melted my insides. “After you.”

The bartender called out a goodbye as we left the patio. The night air hit crisp against my skin, a stark contrast to that rainy night when I’d first let myself imagine something real with Jack. Before Malone backed me into a corner. Before I’d chosen to sacrifice Jack’s privacy for career redemption.

I should stop this now. Walk away before I dug myself in deeper. Before the warmth of his presence beside me, his fingers at my lower back, became something I couldn’t live without.

I didn’t.

The streetlamps cast hazy orbs through the evening fog, like spotlights tracking our progress toward my apartment. Any other day, I’d fill this kind of silence with shop talk—upcoming episodes, social media reactions, anything to maintain professional distance. But bringing upUnleashednow would make me an even bigger fraud than Sydney ever was. At least she’d been upfront about her betrayal.

Because I didn’t want to know about Jack Vignier for the show anymore. I wanted to bask in the quiet strength that drew everyone into his orbit. I wanted to trace the lines of his face in the pre-dawn light, to learn the stories behind each scar. To understand what made him the kind of leader who inspired such loyalty in his players. And how he meant to move forward in life now that this chapter was closing.

How he meant to reinvent himself. Because I suspected there would be lessons to learn there, too.

I wanted everything I had no right to ask for.

All too soon we reached my building’s lobby. The familiar space felt charged tonight, electricity crackling between us as our reflections shimmered in the elevator’s metallic doors. I forced myself to turn, to do the right thing while I still could. “I can take the laptop from here.”

He shook his head, slow and deliberate, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Invite me up, Sutton.”

The air thickened, heavy with possibility and promise—and guilt. So much guilt. I swept my tongue across suddenly dry lips. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Invite me up, Sutton.” His voice dropped an octave, vibrating through me like a physical touch. He cupped the side of my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip in a caress that weakened my knees. “I’m past the age for public displays.”

As if on cue, the lobby door opened and two twenty-something guys ambled in. The elevator dinged its arrival and Jack’s hand slid to my wrist, guiding me inside. His fingers burned against my skin, his grip somehow both possessive and reassuring as the guys joined us. They brightened with recognition as they took in Jack’s presence, but his stiff expression shut them down.

The guys turned to face the doors, message received. When we reached my floor, Jack guided me between them and down the hall toward my apartment.

I wrapped my free hand around Bright’s pack straps, desperate for any distraction from Jack’s presence. From the heat of his body, the scent of his skin, the promise in his touch.

Jack Vignier had some balls, gripping my wrist like he had every right to control me. I clenched my thighs against the ache building between them, fumbling with my door code even as my conscience screamed at me to stop this before it was too late.

But maybe it was already too late. Maybe I’d lost this battle the moment he’d looked at me with his intense blue eyes and made me want to be the person worthy of his trust.

Someone I’d already proven I wasn’t.

He followed me inside, a silent hulk of a man, letting go of my wrist only to peel Bright’s pack from my back. He set my cat on the loveseat, unzipped the fastening and freeing my feline, before dropping the laptop case to lean against the side of the loveseat. Without missing a beat, he tugged me one side-step into the stretch of hall between the living room and bedroom, and pushed me against the wall.

Desire pooled low in my belly, a molten heat that spread through my veins like wildfire. Every nerve ending sparked alive, hypersensitive to his proximity, to the promise of his touch.

Surely Hell had a special place for women like me—women who craved what they didn’t deserve. Because God help me, I wanted his hands on my skin. Wanted to map every inch of him, to learn what made him gasp, what made him lose that legendary control. The need clawed at my insides, primal and devastating.

I sucked in a ragged breath and tilted my face up to his, drowning in eyes gone dark with hunger. I wanted—needed—his kiss, even knowing it would destroy me later. When desire turned to disgust. When he looked at me with regret instead of heat. The inevitability of that moment wrapped around my heart like barbed wire, choking me with panic.

A better woman would stop this. Would walk away before crossing lines that couldn’t be forgiven. He would see my actions for what they were—a betrayal.

He wouldn’t be wrong.

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