Page 35 of Unleashed

This time, when his eyes met mine, they blazed with hunger, but something deeper, too. Something that looked dangerously like trust. “Because you deserve better than a quick fuck against your kitchen counter.”

The crude words in his usually controlled voice shot straight to my core. “What if that’s exactly what I want?” I rolled my lips, gathering courage. “What if I want everything? The quick kitchen counter fuck, and then slow and thorough later?”

His hands tightened on my hips. “Christ, Hollywood. You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” I slid my hands higher under his shirt, mapping the ridges of muscle that jumped beneath my touch. “Scared you can’t keep up, Captain? I thought hockey players were known for their thick thighs and their stamina?”

His growl vibrated against my lips as he lifted me onto the counter in one smooth motion. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as his mouth blazed a trail down my neck. Each brush of his lips, each scrape of stubble against sensitive skin, sent lightning through my system.

“No turning back if we cross this line,” he growled, his palms blazing trails up my naked thighs.

Instead of answering, I ground against him, drawing a curse from deep in his chest. His hands tightened on my hips, stilling my movement. “Words, Hollywood. I need to hear you say yes.”

“Yes.” I didn’t temper the breathless, needy sound that slipped from my lips—didn’t care to. It was mine, a reflection of want without apology. At least I could be honest in my desire. “Please, Jack.”

Jack’s restraint shattered. He captured my mouth, desperate and consuming, as though starving for my taste. His calloused hands pushed under my top, mapping every curve and hollow, branding my skin with his touch.

I clutched at his shirt, desperate for more contact. He tore his mouth from mine just long enough to yank the fabric over his head. My breath caught at the sight before me—battle-forged muscle adorned with the history of his career. I traced an old scar across his shoulder, imagining the brutal hit that had earned this mark.

“Bedroom,” he growled, already lifting me off the counter. “Now.”

Between hungry kisses, I guided him down the short hallway. Halfway there, he pressed me against the wall, pinning me with his weight. His hands slid higher beneath my shirt, thumbs grazing the undersides of my breasts through lace. Lightning shot through me, desire coiling tight and devastating in my core.

“Jack, please.”

He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with me. Midnight had devoured the blue of his irises, leaving only a thin ring of color. But beneath that raw hunger lived something more profound—something vulnerable and unguarded that stole what little breath I had left.

My heart clenched. I couldn’t think about the coming episode airing—about Jack watching himself exposed on screen, his injury laid bare for the world to scrutinize. Couldn’t face what this night of passion might cost when he discovered my betrayal.

So I kissed him again, pouring everything I couldn’t say into the press of my lips. His response was immediate, fierce, as if he understood my unspoken promises.

His fingers slid into my hair, and I pressed closer.

Mistakes were being made, but I couldn’t stop if I’d tried. Couldn’t turn away from Jack if the world depended on it.

Maybe he’d remember these moments and give me another chance.

Maybe he’d remember these moments and hate me more.

A sound escaped my lips before I could stop it. Something between a cry and a moan. Whatever it sounded like, Jack took it as encouragement and swept me up into his arms.

As he carried me into my tiny bedroom, I shoved thoughts of the future aside. As he laid me atop the bed with a kind of gentleness I’d never experienced before, I focused on the man above me. As he lowered himself over me, I welcomed him close. Wrapped my arms around his waist and drew him as close as I could.

Close enough, nothing could come between us. Not Malone, not my future, not his secrets.

A single lamp on my bedside table gave off a soft light, etching Jack’s shape in a golden glow. He kissed me, molding his lips to mine, shaping them, devouring them, as if he’d hungered for me for years, not just since theUnleashedcrew started following his team around.

He wedged up on an elbow, then pushed up and off the bed. I cried out at the loss of his heat, but as he removed the rest of his clothes, I settled back to watch. The muscles of his chest flexed and moved as he unfastened his buckle and toed off his shoes. Then he shoved his pants and boxers down in one quick motion.

His cock jutted out at me. I scrambled up to my knees and reached to touch him, his length proud and thick and like satin under my fingers.

Jack grunted and my eyes darted up. A flush of heat filled my cheeks, but I grinned. “Well,” I said, dropping my hand. “Come on, already.”

He tipped his chin, wiggling his fingers. “Off with the shirt, Hollywood. Let’s see what we’re working with here.”

I tugged my shirt over my head, shimmied out of my shorts, and let the anticipation thrum between us. Reclining back, I stretched out across the sheets, grateful for the pretty lacy bra I’d chosen—his focus locked on me, hungry and unblinking. But I wanted more. I arched my back, lifting my arms above my head in a slow, deliberate tease. “Whatcha think? Think I’ll do?”

A low sound rumbled from his chest, a clash of groan and growl, before he crashed down over me, heat and muscle pressing me into the mattress. His lips found mine, his tongue sweeping inside, stealing the breath from my lungs, scattering every thought that wasn’t him.

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