Page 117 of Bulletproof

“To me, Jory,” he said, “you’re more beautiful now than you ever have been, and I can’t wait to see what you’re gonna look like at forty and fifty and sixty and, God willing, a lot more numbers after that.”

“Many after that,” I assured him as my eyes drifted open so I could look up into his smoky-blue ones.

“The most important thing is that you’re mine. You belong to me,” he said, his hands pressing me closer before he kissed me.

My heart, like it did every single time, skipped a beat and stopped. I wrapped my arms around his neck, not caring where we were, who could see, just kissing the man I loved, our lips melting together as I moaned deeply, offering submission.

The sound sent a tremor through his powerful frame, and I smiled against his mouth, arching up into him.

“Jory,” he growled against my mouth, pulling back just enough, putting a breath of space between us, “baby, I don’t even see anybody but you. Do you even fuckin’ get that?”

I did.

“Where’s the damn bungalow again? This place is like a maze.”

“It’s a cottage,” I corrected him as he took my hand and tugged me after him.

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Don’t swear.”

His signature grunt was all I got.

“Aaron Sutter was in my room,” I said as we walked.

“And?”

“And I thought you should know, is all.”

“Okay. Did you let him kiss you?”

“No.”

“Touch you?”

“He grabbed me, but I stopped him, and then I rolled off the bed and hid under it.”

He stopped walking and turned to look at me. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you listening?”

“I wasn’t, but I am now.”

I shot him a look.

“Just tell me.”

I huffed out a breath. “Well, so, we were talking, and then he⁠—”

“You know what?” he said, cutting me off. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“Sam—”

“No.” He put up his hand. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing happened, right?”

“Of course not.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Yeah, see, it’s fine. I got groped a ton of times by a lot of women when I was undercover. I even had to kiss one to⁠—”