Chapter 3

He looked at me in sheer shock, biting his lip while his long fingers desperately clutched the crisp white sheets.

His dark eyes grew watery, the rims flushing a delicate pink, radiating pure, helpless vulnerability.

A faint smile touched the corner of my mouth as my fingers drifted down, slowly sliding down the zipper of his windbreaker.

Underneath, he wore a simple white tee that hugged a solid chest.

"You're brilliant, and you're ridiculously gorgeous. How about coming with me from now on?"

He swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he whispered, "No."

I froze for a second. I hadn't expected Julian Shaw to reject me.

Over the years, the line of researchers trying to get into my elite labs could stretch from this coast to Europe.

And the men trying to find their way into my bed formed an even longer line.

My gaze darkened as I stared down at him.

"Why?"

"Do you think I'm not qualified?"

"My empire is built on cutting-edge technology. In this entire city, not a single research institute or venture fund has more capital and leverage than Vivian Vance."

"Are you completely sure you want to turn me down?"

He couldn't hold my gaze. He tilted his face away, trying to hide.

I wasn't about to let him off that easily.

My fingers closed firmly around his jaw, tilting his face back toward mine.

His breath turned ragged and heavy, yet his voice was still impossibly shy.

"I’m... too much trouble. I have severe social anxiety, and..."

He bit his trembling lip.

"And what?" I prompted.

"Skin hunger," he whispered.

A deep, agonizing shame washed over his handsome face.

I paused once again.

If there had been a crack in the floor, this boy looked ready to crawl inside it and die.

"You're the first person... in close proximity... who doesn't repulse me," he added in an almost imperceptible murmur.

I pressed my tongue against the inside of my cheek, utterly amused. "Your condition is selective?"

He nodded with complete, wide-eyed sincerity.

I narrowed my eyes at him, half-believing, half-skeptical.

Why did it feel like he was spinning absolute nonsense? Yet, I couldn't spot a single lie on that flushed face.

"None of that is a problem."

I braced my hands on the mattress, getting ready to pull back.

Suddenly, Julian's large hand shot out, wrapping tightly around my wrist. His palm burned against my skin.

Caught off guard by the sudden tug, my balance broke.

Both of my hands landed squarely against his hard, broad chest. A low grunt escaped him.

The red on his ears was so intense it looked ready to bleed.

"Sweetheart, are you making an invitation?" I teased softly.

His lashes fluttered downward with bashful hesitation. His voice carried a pitiful, yearning ache. "I just... want to stay like this for a little longer."

Right.

The skin hunger was acting up.

I let him hold my wrist. Tentatively, cautiously, he tested his boundaries—shifting from a loose grip until his long fingers gently slid into the gaps between mine, locking our hands together.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, a sharp ringtone shattered the silence.

Chase Hayes.

Using my free right hand, I retrieved the phone from under the pillow and slid the green bar across the glass.

"What is it?"

The line was silent for several long seconds, as if he were carefully weighing every single word.

"You called earlier. I was in the shower. My assistant picked it up for me."

Chase was fiercely territorial.

He despised anyone touching his personal belongings—especially his private phone. Unless, of course, the person was someone he deemed exceedingly special.

The explanation only made his guilt shine brighter.

I didn't bother calling him out.

I simply answered with a flat, "Okay."

"The project schedule is insane right now. I might have to sleep at the lab for the next few days."

"Understood. File a progress report once the milestones are completed."