Page 122 of Let’s Make a Scene

We limp through the obligatory cups of coffee (glorious, pitch-black, and flown in from some remote corner of South America. Even in his current mood, Jack can’t resist humming with pleasure), and then Nico gets to his feet with a display of reluctance. “That was amazing, thank you for letting me crash,” he says, “but I’m afraid I have to get going.”

“Yes.” Jack is up on his feet so fast that his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. “We have to go too. We have to go now.” There’s something wild in his eyes, and I put a hand on his arm, like I’m trying to steady a horse. I think he might be vibrating.

We say perfunctory goodbyes to Max and Caroline, the two of them already having lost interest in us, and Lee walks us all to the door.

Nico drops a casual kiss on my cheek and then on Lee’s.

“Got a date?” Jack asks.

“A gentleman never tells,” Nico says, though his grin reveals the answer clearly enough. My eyes dart to Lee, but she shows no emotion at this.

With a cheerful wave Nico takes off for the dilapidated and mud-spattered Land Rover looking extremely out of place on the pristine driveway.

“It was really good to see you,” Jack says to Lee.

“You too,” she replies. “I’m sorry about them,” she says, nodding her head back toward the house. “It’s nice to see you happy. Don’t listen to anything they say.”

“I never do.” Jack’s mouth pulls up.

“Can we hug now?” I ask her, and Lee looks surprised but steps tentatively into my arms. The hug is stiff and a bit awkward, but I’m glad we share it. I don’t think Lee gets hugged often, and I’m pretty sure she needs one after growing up in that house.

“Maybe I could call you next time I’m in town,” I say. “We could get lunch.”

“I’d like that,” she replies softly.

Jack opens the car door for me, and before I know it, we’re peeling away from the house like we’re fleeing the scene of a crime.

Jack’s attention is firmly on the road, and he drives in silence, his jaw ticking like mad, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. I can’t say I blame him; I feel like I’ve been through the wringer, and I’m not actually related to those people. In the end, we’re in the car for about twenty minutes, and Jack pulls up in front of a lovely red-brick, Victorian house near Primrose Hill.

We get out and Jack bounds up the steps to the front door, fishing out a key to open it as I follow behind. He still hasn’t said anything and his energy is… chaotic.

I wander tentatively inside the house, finding myself in a bright, airy hallway with a staircase curling up one side.

Jack enters a code on a keypad in the wall to disarm the alarm, and then he turns to me with such heat in his gaze that I take a step back.

His hand comes slowly over my shoulder, and he pushes the front door closed behind me with a decisive click. He moves forward, his hand still braced by the side of my head, crowding me until my back hits the door. His eyes never leave mine, and what I see in them has my breath coming in shallow little gasps, each inhale enough to create the tiniest touch of friction between our bodies.

“I need to kiss you now.” His voice is a rumble of thunder, deep in his chest. Need, not want. The distinction has butterflies exploding in my stomach.

“Okay,” I whisper, and I barely have time to finish the word before his mouth collides with mine.

I’m trapped firmly between his big, strong body and the door at my back, caged by his arms as he kisses me. His thigh slips between mine, pinning me in place, and one of his hands drifts down, stroking through my hair, absently twisting a long lock around his finger.

I cling to the front of his shirt. His mouth softens, skimming lightly over my lips. His tongue moves lazily, languidly, tasting me, enjoying me, and I barely know what’s happening; I’m delirious, lost in the sensation of it all. My hips tilt, and I slide against his thigh. The pressure has me moaning against his mouth.

Finally, he breaks away, pulls his face back, just far enough so that I can blink, unfocused into his eyes. They’re pure wolf now: heavy-lidded and predatory. The look in them sends another violent spike of lust through me. My knees are so weak, he’s literally holding me up.

“What was that for?” I manage.

“That,” he says, his voice like velvet rubbed against the grain, “was for being on my side.”

“Oh,” I say, breathless. “No problem.”

His hands drift down the sides of my body, lightly gripping my waist. He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth and then skims his lips across my jaw and down, until his warm mouth finds the pulse hammering madly in my throat. His tongue flicks out and he sucks gently on my skin until I whimper.

“And for being kind to my sister,” he murmurs, his mouth moving lower, across my collarbones as he slips the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders, the trail of his fingertips leaving an electric crackle across my bare skin.

“My pleasure,” I whisper. I curl my fingers into his hair, tugging his face back up to mine, and he leaves a path of soft kisses as he goes, refusing to be rushed.