Chapter 247
[ 526 words ]
Chapter 247:
The word home pressed against Caroline’s ribs, unfamiliar and dangerous. She didn’t trust it. She wasn’t ready to want it. But standing in the cold evening air, wrapped in the heat of a man who would burn the world to keep her breathing, she allowed herself — for the first time — to consider the possibility that it might one day become true.
The armored SUV parked in the underground garage. They rode the private elevator up to the penthouse in a comfortable, quiet silence.
As soon as they entered the apartment, Jarrod carried the heavy brown paper bags into the kitchen and set them down on the cold marble island.
Caroline slipped off her jacket, rubbing her calves, feeling a pleasant, normal exhaustion from walking around the store.
She watched Jarrod as he reached for the Tomahawk steak. His left hand worked at the packaging, his right arm held still at his side, the rigid outline of the field splint still visible beneath his dark shirt. He had rolled up only his left sleeve — the right cuff remained buttoned and loose over the brace.
He was in a good mood. The tension between them was lower than it had ever been.
Caroline bit her lip. A thought formed in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, she could use this rare peace to negotiate a tiny bit of freedom — just permission to walk to the coffee shop down the street tomorrow morning by herself.
She walked around the marble island and stopped right beside him.
She reached out and gently tugged on the hem of his dark shirt.
Jarrod stopped moving. He turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto her face, giving her his absolute, undivided attention.
𝖳hо𝘶ѕ𝗮n𝘥𝘴 of 𝗋𝗲a𝗱e𝗋𝘴 𝗈n 𝗴а𝗹nоv𝗲𝘭ѕ.соm
“Jarrod…” Caroline murmured, her voice soft, carrying a rare, vulnerable tone of pleading.
To soften him up, she stepped closer, placed her hands lightly on his chest, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss directly to the corner of his jaw.
It was a fatal miscalculation.
Caroline was trying to ask for a favor. But in Jarrod’s combat-wired, possessive brain, after days of extreme frustration and near-death adrenaline, a soft voice and a voluntary kiss meant only one thing.
It was an invitation. She was surrendering.
The last thread of Jarrod’s restraint violently snapped.
His eyes went completely black. He dropped the knife from his left hand. It clattered loudly against the marble.
His left arm wrapped around her waist, his right arm remaining rigid at his side as he spun her around and pressed her back against the edge of the cold marble island.
Caroline gasped in shock as his heavy body pressed flush against hers, trapping her completely. He moved so fast, her affectionate gesture turned into a trap she’d laid for herself. Her combat instincts screamed at her to react, but the sheer shock of his sudden intensity, born directly from her own soft touch, froze her for a critical second.
Before she could speak, Jarrod’s mouth crashed down on hers. There was no tenderness. It was raw and urgent. His tongue urged her lips apart, tasting her deeply, consuming her breath.
His left hand slid under her sweater, his calloused palm burning against the bare skin of her stomach.
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