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Goddamn.

She said yes.

And now there’s nothing holding me back.

Chapter 15

Layla

“Yes.”

The word barely leaves my mouth.

And Mitchell breaks.

That's the only way to describe it.

One second, he's standing there with every muscle in his body locked down, those blue eyes burning into mine while he waits for permission.

The next? Whatever restraint Mitchell Knight has been holding onto all night snaps.

He reaches for me. One hand slides around my waist while the other cups the back of my neck, and then his mouth is on mine.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Butterflies don't flutter in my stomach. They riot. Battle.

Explode into a thousand frantic wings as Mitchell kisses me like he's been starving and I'm the first thing he's tasted in years.

His lips consume me. Devour me. Control me. And somehow, impossibly, worship me at the same time.

I've been kissed before.

I've had sex before.

I've wanted men before.

But I've never felt anything like this.

I grab the front of his tuxedo because I need something solid to hold onto. And I tug his jacket off. The tie and shirt next.

Mitchell groans against my mouth. The sound goes straight through me. His tongue brushes mine, and every coherent thought I had left disappears.

Story. Investigation. Thirty days. Professional ethics. Cat telling me not to sleep with my source.

Sorry, Cat.

Because that is all gone. There is only Mitchell.

His mouth.

His hands.

The hard length of his body pressed against mine. The way he says my name against my lips like it means something.

“Layla.”