A shift behind me made my breath catch.
“Creed,” Leandra said.
He stood close now.Composed.Dangerous.
“I’ll leave you,” she said kindly.
I faced the painting again.“Taking these from my office...that was your plan?”
“You wouldn’t have let me otherwise.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it?”
“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”
He stepped closer, his mouth curving faintly.“Funny.You didn’t seem to mind when I was fixing things before.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not.”
“You come in, save everything, then leave,” I said.“And I’m left—”
He caught my wrist, his grip light but unyielding.His thumb brushed over the inside of my wrist, the heat of his touch unraveling me.
“I’m still here,” he said softly.
My throat burned.“For how long?”
His hand slid up my arm, his palm curving around the nape of my neck.He tugged me closer, his mouth so close to mine I could feel the warmth of his breath.
“As long as you’ll have me,” he murmured.
His mouth brushed mine—barely.
“Take the win, Peyton.”
Then he kissed me.His mouth moved over mine—confident, hungry—but controlled.
It wasn’t a request.It was a promise.Slow.Deep.Devastating.
I broke away, breathless.
“You’re dangerous.”
“And yet,” he said softly, “you’re still standing here.”
“Stop thinking,” he murmured.“Start feeling.”
My chest tightened.And for the first time in months, I knew exactly what I had to do.
I turned and walked away.
* * *
“NOW...,” OLIVIA DEMANDEDthe second the limo pulled away from the curb, “...will you please tell me why we’re leaving?”
