Page 86 of The Unfluencer

He fires a warning shot. “Now!”

Immediately, I assume this is it. This is how I go down. This really is the end of the line, because he’s got a gun, and who brings a knife to a⁠—

I flick my gaze to Whitney, and before the guy can follow my line of vision, she throws her coring knife with terrifying precision, striking his hand. As the gun falls to the ground, I dive for it, then deck him in the eye.

We both watch as he falls out cold, onto the ground.

“Not bad, Indy.”

She tosses me a proud smile, and suddenly I hear Nacheline’s voice echo in the back of my mind, drowning out Cord’s I told you so.

How can you write about love and adventure, when you don’t get out there to experience it?

Being in a messy, watered-down Indiana Jones movie? The plot’s not so weak. And that dash of romantic chemistry? It’s all adding up.

Then again, maybe it’s like when someone tells you not to look, and suddenly it’s all you can think about. Being told “don’t fall in love” works the same way.

Falling in love with Whitney is the only thing on my mind.

Chapter Nineteen

Whitney

Daring Deeds

So, here’s the thing. In all the cutthroat adventure movies, danger is afoot, right? That’s the promise. The guarantee. Globe-trotting quests and action-packed thrills for edge-of-your-seat entertainment. But go fifty-fifty with a budding romance— à la The Lost City, Shotgun Wedding, and the OG, Romancing the Stone? Well, now that deranged, power-hungry headcase with his greedy goons, hellbent on unearthing treasure, gives an entirely new meaning to elevated heart rates.

Literally, take every one of my fantasies and package them in a bundle deal, because that’s what happened. Warner and I, side by side, taking down a masked intruder? Are you kidding me?

The way he held my hand and kissed me so fiercely… Talk about sexy foreplay.

That villain might as well have written his own obituary. There was no way I wasn’t making it to the other side to explore the promise Warner has left on my lips. The ache in my belly. The wait and see how I’m about to put it down on you when this is over stare.

I’m only human.

We couldn’t write a more thrilling romantic adventure.

The fight scene with movie-level choreography. The air crackling with passion. Us, moving in sync through that cold, dark cement-block building, throwing blindsiding blows, tossing apple grenades, hurling knives with expert precision through dust clouds. All that sexy, raw, desperate heat and adrenaline coursing through us. Defending our lives while protecting exquisite, never-before-seen art—which just so happens to be my deepest, darkest fantasy?

That’s real connection.

I don’t know a soul who wouldn’t need to climb into Warner’s lap, throbbing in all the right places, and lock lips after that.

“Should we maybe tie him up?” Warner says gruffly into the kiss.

I drag my fingertips over his chest, sucking his lower lip, completely unbothered, when maybe I should be.

An unconscious, armed criminal, who asked about a drive that’s presumably hidden somewhere in the building, is blacked out on the floor ten feet from us. Warner and I should be tearing this place apart, searching high and low for it. We’re completely in the dark here. Everyone in the main residence could be tied up and gagged. At the very least, it would behoove us to unmask this guy, so we’ll have the faintest idea who’d want to threaten our lives, and call the coast guard to cart him away.

And yet my Scooby-Doo instincts must be dormant.

My tunnel vision has blurred everything except for the fact that there are too many clothing layers between Warner’s large thighs and the ache between mine.

“Later,” I moan, closing my eyes when his thick erection hardens beneath me, pressing relentlessly. I feel his smile against my neck as I impatiently tug at the hem of his shirt. “Warner, do you want to⁠—?”

He doesn’t wait for me to finish. “Since the country club,” he mutters, roughly yanking his sweatshirt over his head between kisses, then helps me out of mine. Immediately, I feel the rush of heat. His hot skin against my stomach. Those thick thighs rubbing relentlessly, hooking into mine. “And at the gallery…”

My breathing grows shallow. “Yeah?”