Chapter 272
[ 488 words ]
Chapter 272:
Jarrod tilted her chin up with his left hand. His eyes darkened with a different kind of hunger, silently asking for permission before he bridged the final gap.
Jarrod lowered his head. His lips captured Caroline’s in a kiss that started out slow and incredibly tender. It was a stark contrast to his earlier violence in the SUV, his mouth carefully avoiding the small, healing cut on her lower lip that he himself had inflicted.
Caroline closed her eyes.
Her hands slid up his solid chest to grip the lapels of his tactical jacket. She melted into the intense heat of his mouth, letting go of the day’s trauma.
W𝗵a𝘵 𝗲𝗏e𝗋уоn𝘦 𝘪ѕ 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝘥іո𝗴 o𝘯 𝘨аl𝗻o𝘷𝗲𝗅ѕ.𝖼o𝗆
The kiss deepened rapidly. Jarrod’s tongue swept past her lips, tasting her, claiming her with a possessive rhythm that made her head spin.
He lifted her effortlessly with his left arm, bracing her weight against his chest as his right arm remained motionless at his side. He set her on top of the cold marble island so he could stand exactly between her thighs.
The physical intimacy escalated. Jarrod’s breathing turned ragged. His left hand explored the curve of her spine beneath her ruined t-shirt, pulling her hips flush against his while his right arm stayed rigid, the field splint a hard outline against her thigh.
Just as the tension reached a boiling point, a loud noise echoed in the quiet kitchen.
Caroline’s stomach let out a loud, highly unromantic growl.
Jarrod froze.
He pulled back slightly. He looked at her, blinking in surprise as the primal fog of lust slowly cleared from his dark eyes.
Caroline’s face flushed bright crimson.
She covered her face with both hands, groaning in absolute mortification at the terrible timing.
Jarrod stared at her for a second. Then a deep, genuine chuckle rumbled in his chest. It was a sound so rare and warm it made Caroline peek through her fingers.
He gently pulled her hands away from her face. His eyes swept over her pale complexion, noting the dark circles under her eyes and her exhausted posture.
He realized she had been running on pure adrenaline for hours. She had fought gangsters in an alley, survived his interrogation, and argued for her career.
The protective instinct instantly overrode his desire.
Jarrod stepped back. He adjusted her torn shirt with his left hand, ensuring she was covered.
“We are going out to get some real food,” Jarrod announced.
Caroline protested weakly. “I can just make a sandwich here.”
Jarrod ignored her. He was already grabbing his car keys, and he pulled one of his black cashmere sweaters from the hallway closet.
He slipped the oversized sweater over her head. The soft fabric draped down to her mid-thigh, practically swallowing her and wrapping her completely in his warm, familiar cedar scent. He guided her back into the private elevator.
Instead of the massive armored SUV, Jarrod led her to a sleek, unassuming black sedan parked in the corner of the garage. He wanted to avoid drawing any more attention tonight.
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