Page 34 of Unleashed

He studied me for a long moment. Long enough, he set my pulse skittering. “You sure about that, Hollywood?”

Once upon a time, the nickname bristled. Now it sent liquid heat pooling low in my belly. “I’m sure about you.”

His sharp inhale rippled through the space between us, satisfaction curling through me. I’d knocked the mighty Jack Vignier off balance with simple honesty. At least my desire for him deserved truth.

The walk to my building crackled with electric silence. Jack’s solid presence at my shoulder had my skin prickling like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. His arm brushed mine—not by accident—stoking the inferno blazing through my bloodstream.

My fingers trembled against the building’s security panel, coordination abandoning me under his gaze. He crowded close behind me, his body heat seeping into my back without touching me, my skin humming in anticipation.

“Need help with that?” His voice rumbled right by my ear, shivers rippling down my spine.

“I’ve got it.” The words came out embarrassingly breathy as the lock finally clicked. “Though having you all...” I waved vaguely at our proximity, “...Isn’t exactly helping my concentration.”

His low chuckle vibrated through me as he followed me inside. “Just being helpful.”

“Is that what you call it?” I shot him a look over my shoulder as we reached the elevator. His answering smile, slow and knowing, had my knees going weak.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding that echoed in the lobby’s silence. Jack’s hand settled at my lower back as we stepped inside, that simple touch setting off fireworks under my skin. Three floors stretched endlessly, tension thick enough to cling to my skin, to steal the oxygen from the space. I sucked in a long breath the instant the doors slid open.

When we reached my door, I turned to face him. “Last chance to back out, Captain.”

Instead of answering, he stepped closer, crowding me against the apartment door. One hand braced beside my head while the other settled on my hip, his thumb stroking circles on the skin at my waist bared by my top.

“Not backing out, Hollywood.” His voice dropped to that low rumble that did dangerous things to my insides. “You’re certain you want to invite me in? I step one foot inside, you’re not getting rid of me until morning.”

I met his gaze, hoping he saw the truth in mine. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

The lock clicked open and we stepped into my tiny apartment, the space feeling even smaller with Jack’s powerful presence filling it. Guilt twisted in my stomach as I flicked on the lights—here I was, inviting him into my home while Malone and theUnleashed’screw edited footage that would expose Jack’s most vulnerable moments. The episode would air in just a few days, and he had no idea.

I shoved the thought away, clinging to the present with the kind of desperation that would embarrass me tomorrow.

“Coffee?” I moved toward the narrow kitchen space, needing something to do with my hands. The island that served as prep space, dining table, and occasional desk suddenly felt like an inadequate barrier between us.

“You really planning to make coffee?” My insides fluttered at the hint of amusement in his voice.

I turned to face him, caught by the sight of him filling my doorway. He looked too big for the space, but right somehow. Like he belonged here. With me. The thought dug deep, dragging guilt up from where I’d tried to bury it. Would he forgive me once the episode aired? Could I make him understand that Malone hadn’t left me any other option?

“No,” I admitted, gripping the edge of the counter. “I just... needed a minute.”

He crossed to the island in two long strides, close enough now that his scent—clean soap and warm skin—wrapped around me, shut out the world and shut down my riotous thoughts. “Want me to leave?”

“God, no.” The words burst out before I could stop them. My fingers knotted in the fabric of his shirt. “I want this. Want you.”

His eyes darkened at my confession. One large hand covered mine, flattening my palm to his abdomen, his touch sending sparks skittering across my skin. “But?”

“No buts.” I wet my lips, watching his gaze track the movement. Part of me wanted to confess everything—about Malone’s demands, about the episode, about how terrified I was of losing this thing brewing between us. But selfishly, I wanted just one night where nothing else existed. Where it was just us, without the weight of what was coming.

His free hand came up to cup my face, and coherent thought scattered. His thumb traced my cheekbone with devastating gentleness, the contrast between his controlled power and tender touch making my knees weak. His finger touched the corner of my lips, then his gaze flicked back up to meet mine, as if gauging the truth of my words.

Instead of voicing my guilt, I pushed up on my toes and pressed my lips to his. He stilled for a fraction of a second, then groaned deep in his throat. His hand slid into my hair, taking control of the kiss with the same intensity he brought to everything else.

I melted into him, letting the heat of his mouth drive away my doubts. His tongue traced the seam of my lips and I opened for him, gasping as he deepened the connection. Every brush of his tongue against mine sent fire racing through my veins.

He tasted like the vanilla ice cream we’d shared for dessert, sweet and addictive. My fingers found the hem of his shirt, desperate to touch skin. He shuddered when my hands slipped beneath the fabric to trace the hard planes of his abdomen.

“Lily.” He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. “We should slow down.”

“Why?” I pressed closer, thrilling at his sharp inhale when I scraped my nails lightly across his stomach.

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