He grew wary, and his lips moved into a straight line. His hands tightened on to each other, as if he were holding himself back.

I didn’t understand any of this. “I don’t care about the legal aspects. I don’t care about the ramifications—”

“But you should,” he said so softly as he cut me off. He leaned forward again. “This is your life, Jordan. Your. Life. Yes, I am attracted to you. Yes, I want to hold you. Yes, I want to kiss you. Yes, I want to pick you up and carry you into that bedroom.”

My eyes got big. Every word he had said was spoken with conviction. My fingers curved into the bottom cushion of the couch. I wanted to jump into his arms. I was holding myself back. There was a but coming after he had said those beautiful words, and the emotions were building in my throat. Another lump was forming there.

He leaned even closer across the small gap between us. His eyes were peering right into mine as he said in a fierce whisper, “I want to protect you. I want to take care of you…”

I closed my eyes. It was coming.

“But…”

There it was.

“We have to think long and hard before we do anything.”

I was holding my breath. I knew there was more coming.

There was silence.

I peeked a look at him. He was staring at me, studying every inch of my face, and his gaze dropped down to my lips. He lingered there.

I licked them. His eyes jerked to mine, darkening in lust.

I wanted him. I didn’t give a damn about what else he said. “Kian.” I started to rise from the couch.

He murmured, his voice hoarse, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do.”

This was why I kept coming back to him. I should’ve run as soon as he found me, but I went nowhere. I went to him. This was why I ignored Snark’s warnings. I wanted justification—no, I wanted excuses to go to him.

My fingers curled into my palms.

I didn’t even think I’d cared about the cab driver. Maybe a part of me wanted to be caught. It would be done. The running. The hiding. Everything. I wanted it all done, and if it meant I could be with Kian, so be it.

You’re an idiot, Jordan. An inner voice laughed at me.

I hushed her.

“I want you,” I said it again, scooting to the edge of my cushion.

“Jordan.” His head dropped low, but his eyes clung to mine.

His shoulders were tense, and he was fighting himself. I saw the struggle in him. His jaw clenched. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“I don’t care what happens.”

His eyes narrowed. “You should.”

I sucked in my breath and leaned across the last bit of space between us. I was right there, right in front of him. One small inch and his finger would be resting against mine. The heat radiated off him. His eyes were glued to mine, fierce, as they seemed to be daring me to touch him. But his hands never lifted. He didn’t lean toward me. He held himself still, just watching me.

I lifted a hand.

Both of us looked at it and then at each other.

I reached for him, and as I bit down on my lip, I touched his chest. His heart was racing, pounding underneath my hand. He was trembling. I hadn’t noticed it before, but I felt it. This was because of me, of my touch. Power surged through my veins. The adrenaline of knowing that he’d reacted like this to me made my blood flow rapidly through me. I was almost drunk from the feel of it.

He didn’t push me away. I grew bolder, sliding my hand down his chest, feeling the dip of his muscles. My fingers grazed over each of them, and even though his shirt was on, I knew he was a masterpiece. My fingers fell to the top of his jeans, and I looked up. His eyes were closed. His forehead was close to mine, almost resting on top of me if I were to move up on my toes. He was breathing in and out, letting me explore him how I wanted.

My chest rose up and down. I started to breathe deep, and I swallowed as my fingers slipped inside his jeans. I was telling him what I wanted. Hell, I didn’t know what I wanted for sure. I just wanted him. I knew that much, but I wanted him to touch me back. I wanted him to press against me. I wanted him to touch his lips to mine.

His eyes opened. He was looking right into me, his gaze bearing down on me. His eyes turned black, and his hand lifted to cup the side of my face. His thumb rested at the corner of my mouth. He didn’t touch my lips. He held me there, staring into me.

A flashback from the courtroom flitted across my memory. He was always watching for me, and when I stepped inside the room, his eyes would hold mine, and it was like he knew me intimately. It was him and I. We were one.

I saw the same look now.

He could see inside me.

It was like he was a part of me. Again.

He lowered his head, and I closed my eyes. His lips hovered above mine.

My heart was trying to come out of my chest. The room was spinning. My cheeks were bright red. I felt feverish, and damn, I wanted that one touch from him.

It was there, right there…and then it was gone.

Kian ripped himself away. “No, Jordan. No.” He stood, moving toward the kitchen.

“What? What happened?” No way. I rose and went after him. He was about to kiss me. He wanted to kiss me. I felt it from him.

His hand lifted, as if to warn me away, but it changed. Everything about him changed. His face cleared, his eyes found mine again. “No, Jordan—fuck it.” His hands caught my face, and his lips were on mine in the next instant.

I gasped, but his lips were touching mine with a smooth pressure. I was lost in the feelings. His hands were gentle on my face, and then he paused. I felt him grinning against my lips.