Page 33 of Cupid's Beau

Quirking an eyebrow, I pull it on over my tank top, breathing in his scent. “It’ll drive the gossip sites crazy. ‘Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor’s Girlfriend Spotted in His hoodie.’”

He groans, but I catch the way his eyes linger on me. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I stretch up to kiss his jaw. “Come on, Mr. Ellis. Time to face the music.”

He pulls me back against his chest, lips brushing my ear. “You keep the sweater on tonight.” One nip at my jaw. “Just the sweater.”

I absolutely do not shiver at the promise in his voice. “Deal.”

* * *

“Remember the script,” Sandra whispers. “Short, sweet, request for privacy.”

I hide my smile behind a coffee cup. Jack in media mode isfascinating - all sharp edges and cool control in his perfectly tailored suit. So freaking hot, I want to fan myself. His hand keeps finding mine, and I haven’t missed how his eyes darken every time he spots his hoodie under my blazer.

“Stop fidgeting,” my agent tells me.

“I’m not-”

“You’re playing with your hair.” Jack’s voice is warm with amusement.

“Well, excuse me for being nervous about facing a room full of reporters.”

He steps away from Sandra, ignoring her protests, and draws me aside. “Just look at me. Ignore everyone else.”

“Easy for you to say when you look like that.”

His lips twitch. “Like what?”

“Like fucking sex in a suit.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

His eyes darken dangerously. “Behave.”

I bite down on my bottom lip, holding in a naughty smile.

“Time!” Malik calls, but not before catching the way Jack’s hand tightens on my waist.

“Ready?” Jack’s thumb brushes my hip one last time before he steps back.

I smooth his sweater, enjoying how his eyes track the movementand nod.

The room buzzes when we enter. Cameras flash, voices overlap, and Jack’s public mask slides into place. But his hand stays firmly on my lower back as he guides me to the podium.

“Thank you for coming,” he starts, his deep voice steady. “We’ll keep this brief.”

I try to focus on his handsome profile instead of the sea of faces, but I catch snippets of whispered conversations.

“Look how he’s touching her-”

“Never seen him like this-”

Jack reads the prepared statement perfectly, all controlled authority and professional distance. Right until the end, when he goes completely off script.

“One last thing.” His hand finds mine on the podium. “The media has always had their own version of who I am. Today, for the first time, I don’t care what story they tell. Because the only story that matters is that I’m in love with this woman.”

The room erupts. Everyone going fucking nuts with questions, comments, camera flashes. Sandra looks like she’s having an aneurysm. Malik stares wide-eyed. And I…

I’m staring at Jack Ellis like he’s the fucking sun. The stars. And the moon.

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