It’s a home, not just a showpiece.
I start down the stairs, moving as quickly and quietly as possible, my eyes locked on that front door like it’s salvation.
I’m halfway across the living room, my feet already carrying me toward freedom, when a deep voice behind me stops me cold.
“Sneaking out before breakfast? And here I thought we made a good impression.”
My whole body stiffens.
Every muscle locks up. My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest, and it takes several long seconds before I can even force myself to turn around.
Because I know that voice.
Ice-blue eyes. Hands that lifted me effortlessly. A kiss that ruined me for anyone else.
Jasper.
I turn slowly, and there he is, sitting against the back of the couch, arms spread along the top, legs crossed at the ankles, looking completely relaxed and utterly smug.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a charcoal-gray Henley, the sleeves pushed up to reveal those strong forearms. His ash-blond hair is slightly damp like he recently showered, pushed back from his face, and those blue eyes are watching me with clear amusement.
He’s absolutely devastating, and he’s smirking at me like he knows exactly what I did last night and finds it incredibly entertaining.
I want to die right now. Just melt into the floor and disappear.
But at the same time, merely seeing him squeezes my chest tight. Leaves my body responding with embarrassing enthusiasm, heat flooding through me, slick already gathering despite the thorough workout I got last night.
That face. Those eyes. Those lips that kissed me against my apartment door and made me forget my own name.
And here I am, sneaking out of his house after spending the night with two of his packmates.
Fuck.
“Hey, listen,” I start, my voice wobbly. I clear my throat and try again. “It’s not as it looks. But I have to go. I’m late for something, and I really want to see you again, but maybe you don’t want to see me after this, but I just?—”
He pushes off the couch in one fluid motion, and my words dry up completely. He’s moving toward me, all predatory stroll and casual confidence, and I’m rooted to the spot.
“It’s exactly as it looks,” Jasper says, and there’s amusement in his voice. “You spent the night with Mason and Dylan. Had what sounded like an incredible time, based on the noises that greeted us when we got home.”
My face floods with heat. “Oh God.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He’s close enough that I smell the sandalwood, pine, and molasses. I have to lock my knees to stay upright.
“I just didn’t want you to think I was—I mean, after we?—”
Why did I think coming here last night was a good idea? What was I thinking?
Oh, right. I was drunk on cocktails and pool games and the way we all flirted.
Jasper reaches past me to grab a leather jacket from the hook by the door, his arm brushing mine, and the contact leaves me shivering. Then he grabs keys from the small table.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll give you a lift home. Takes forever for Ubers and cabs to come all the way up here.”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to bother you.”
He smirks, opening the front door and gesturing for me to go through. “No bother.”
As I pass him, he leans in close, his lips almost brushing my ear, and whispers, “We’re a pack. We share.” Then he struts past me like he didn’t just make my knees go weak, and I’m left standing here trying to remember how to function.
