“Look at that,” Axel called out, grinning like the devil himself. “Maddox is about to disappear like Houdini again.”
Greyson raised his glass with mock solemnity. “Gone but never forgotten.”
Luke elbowed Sam, stage-whispering loud enough for the whole damn VIP section to hear, “I give it twenty minutes before she’s making those sounds again.”
Kennedy flushed. I didn’t. Didn’t even slow down.
“Don’t wait up,” I tossed over my shoulder, not bothering to look back.
“Let the man cook,” Drew added with a lazy salute, smirking over his drink.
“Cook?” Axel barked a laugh. “He’s been at a full simmer since she walked in.”
Rhys, ever the voice of reason—or just the embodiment of apathy—merely muttered, “Amateurs,” before sipping his water.
I didn’t reply. Their voices faded the moment we hit the stairs, my hand pressed against the small of Kennedy’s back like I was branding her—like I could.
Because I wanted her home. Now.
Not for the noise. Not for the chaos.
For us.
By the time we hit the parking lot, the air had cooled, but everything in me still burned.
And judging by the way she looked up at me—like she was already unwrapped beneath my hands—I knew we were both thinking the same thing.
Tonight wasn’t over.
Not even close.
Chapter 23
Kennedy
The door clicked shut behind us, muffled by the quiet hush of Nick’s penthouse. He didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead, he rested his hand against the small of my back and guided me inside, the warmth of his touch grounding me as we stepped into the soft glow pouring in from the city skyline.
Everything felt hushed, bathed in silver light from the towering windows. The city sparkled beyond the glass, but inside, it was just the two of us—shadows dancing across the walls, casting everything in this unreal, intimate calm.
I drew in a slow breath, catching the faint scent of his cologne—woodsy, clean, and something else that was purely Nick. It wrapped around me, sank into my bones, and made my pulse flutter in anticipation. Just hours ago we’d been surrounded by flashing lights and shouting voices and pounding bass, but this? This felt sacred.
He turned toward me, and the moment stretched.
His eyes were dark and unreadable, drinking me in like I was the only thing that existed. I didn’t make it past the hallway. He leaned in before I could even steady myself, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that sent my nerves sparking to life.
It wasn’t rushed.
It was slow—purposeful. His lips moved against mine with a reverence that made me ache, like he was learning every inch of me with nothing but his mouth. Every pass of his tongue, every subtle press of his body against mine, lit a fire low in my belly. The world outside fell away as easily as my hesitation.
I melted into him without a second thought. His hands cupped my jaw, then slid down to my hips, pulling me flush against him. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, steady and strong, and mine chased after it like it was trying to catch up.
A soft sound escaped me—I couldn’t help it—and I felt him stiffen for half a second before the kiss deepened, more urgent now. Hungrier. It was like he needed me to feel everything he couldn’t say, and God, I did.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathless, my lips swollen, my mind hazy. The silver light behind him blurred at the edges of my vision, and all I could focus on was the man standing in front of me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along my cheek. The softness in his voice caught me off guard, the way his thumb tilted my chin just enough for our eyes to meet again.
And in that moment—there was no noise, no past, no judgment.
