Page 68 of Power

“What if I don’t care about the policy?”

The question hung between us, charged with possibility.

I felt my defenses waver further. “That would be … complicated.”

“I’m good with complicated.” He was closer again, one hand lifting cautiously to hover near my uninjured cheek, giving me time to pull away.

I didn’t.

His palm cupped my face, thumb brushing gently across my skin. “And I meant what I said earlier … I want to know more about you. All of you.”

My heart hammered against my ribs as he leaned in, his eyes asking permission. Despite every warning bell in my head, I found myself tilting my face up to his, my lips parting slightly in invitation.

When our lips finally met, it was like coming home. To a good home. A warm one, with baked cookies and a normal family.

Jace slipped his tongue along my lower lip, coaxing me to open for him. When I did, the kiss deepened into something primal. Electric. My toes curled, and my heartbeat drummed in my ears as I reached up and threaded my fingers through his thick hair.

He winced slightly.

“Sorry,” I whispered against his mouth, feeling a small lump beneath my fingertips. I couldn’t tell if it was from my father’s fist or his collision with the concrete sidewalk. Either way, it wasevidence of what he’d done for me. The bruised knuckles. The cut eyebrow. This lump. Injuries he’d sustained to protect me.

As our kiss evolved, heat pooled low in my belly. I wanted more. So. Much. More. I wanted to pull Jace into my bedroom, peel off that expensive suit, trail my fingers along the tattoos that I knew were hidden beneath, and feel him inside me, his lips on my neck, his body bringing me to the edge of oblivion.

But reality crashed through my fantasy. Hard stop.

This was happening too fast. Yes, I wanted him, but I’d managed to go through my entire life blocking out feelings for any man, and if I was going to date anyone—and that was properly cataloged in myNever Going to Happenfolder—I really didn’t want that person to be someone so powerful. Rich. Connected. A man who could alter lives with a single phone call.

Specifically mine.

Even though Jace had stood up for me, had somehow unlocked something inside me—a possibility I’d kept firmly bolted—I hesitated at the threshold. Tonight had drained me completely. The last thing I needed was a reckless decision haunting me in the morning.

So, I pulled back, and even though the absence of his warmth was freezing, I said, “I should probably get some sleep.”

His emerald eyes searched mine. “I don’t want to risk leaving you alone.”

“My father is in jail.”

“What if they mistakenly let him out?”

I tried not to let my lips curl at how far-fetched that sounded, but it was adorable. Jace worrying about me when there was no risk. “You heard what the police officer at the hospital said; he’s behind bars until his bail arraignment tomorrow.”

Jace gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his bruised knuckles ghosting across my cheek. “I’m still leaving Red here. He’s a top-notch security guard.” Since I’d lost every battle over the whole bodyguard situation, I simply nodded, unable tofight the knot forming in my throat. “How about I pick you up in the morning and take you to work?”

I smiled and placed my hand against his chest, feeling the solid wall of muscle beneath. “That’s not necessary.” A thought suddenly struck me. “But we do have something we need to figure out.”

His uninjured brow arched upward.

“I think we need a cover story.” My finger traced the edge of his bruised eyebrow, careful not to apply pressure. “We can’t show up at the office tomorrow with matching shiners. People will get suspicious.”

His slow smile revealed a dimple I hadn’t noticed before. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we, Trouble?”

The way he said my nickname, like a secret he was keeping for himself, made my heart stutter in my chest.

“Cover story,” Jace repeated as his eyes lit with something that was both mischievous and calculated. “Actually, I have just the right guy for this job.”

“You do?” I asked, suddenly wary.

His smile turned dangerous. “You’re looking at the man who once convinced the board I got a black eye from a charity boxing match that never happened.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Trust me, by tomorrow afternoon, our matching bruises will be the most boring topic in the office.”