Page 34 of Cupid's Beau

The chaos that follows is a blur of shouted questions and camera flashes. Jack handles it all with practiced ease, deflecting themore personal questions, answering others, his thumb stroking small circles on my hand.

“Did you just hijack your own press conference to tell me you love me?” I whisper during a brief lull.

His lips barely move as he answers. “Seemed more efficient than waiting.”

“Efficient?”

“Mhm. Now I can tell you properly. Later. When you’re wearing nothing but my hoodie.”

Heat floods my cheeks, and somewhere in the crowd, a photographer definitely catches my reaction.

“Mr. Ellis!” A reporter’s voice cuts through the noise. “Is it true you’ve been hiding out on a private island?”

“No comment.” But his eyes meet mine, full of private meaning. “Though I will say some places are worth keeping secret.”

“And your upcoming film?”

“Starts production next month.” His professional tone is back, but his hand doesn’t leave mine. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have dinner plans.”

“We do?” I murmur as he guides me toward the exit.

“Yes. In my apartment. Just you, me, and the sweater you stole.”

* * *

The moment the elevator doors close in his building, he has me pressed against the wall.

“You,” he says between kisses, “have no idea how hard it was not to do this during that entire press conference.”

“Poor baby.” I tug at his tie. “Having to behave in public.”

“Wearing my clothes.” His voice is rough as his big hands slide under the layers of fabric. “Looking at me like that in front of everyone.”

“Like what?”

“Like you wanted me to-”

The elevator dings, and he groans, stepping back. “Come on.”

His apartment is all floor-to-ceiling windows and city lights, but I barely get a glimpse before he’s kissing me again, walking me backward to what I assume is his bedroom.

“Wait.” I pull back slightly. “I don’t get a tour?”

“Later,” he rumbles against my skin, his mouth finding that spot on my neck that makes me moan.

“But-”

“Neneh.” He lifts his head to look at me, eyes dark with hunger. “I love you and I need to show you.”

Well, when he puts it like that…

His bedroom is all moonlight and city views, but I’m too focused on his hands, his mouth, the way he whispers “I love you” overand over against my skin to notice much else.

It takes forever to strip off his jacket and dress shirt, and even longer for him to peel me out of my jeans, lace bra and panties, and I think we both stop breathing for a moment when Jack sees them.

He presses his forehead to mine, his voice a low rasp.

_“God.”_

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