As though he could read her mind, in two long strides, he was at her side, snagging her hand. She didn’t fight him because she was already fighting with herself. Don’t crawl into his arms, rub his chest, or plead for a kiss.

As he led her back to the stairwell, her body buzzed. His hyper-vigilant king-of-the-operatives hat was still firmly in place. All his talk and those soulful looks were little more than foreplay to him. He could toss them out and forget. Too bad she was still on fire.

The protective act worked for Jared in a major way. He was sexy in his own style. Not even decked out in tactical gear, he looked as if he ate his Wheaties every morning, then bench pressed his Expedition.

His gaze swept from side to side, on the lookout for bad dudes to kill. My vigilante white knight. He was smooth about it; she would give him credit for that much. At every turn of the stairwell corner, the man knew what was on the other side before she did. Such a badass.

They passed her floor and kept moving, probably to his suite, which was definitely the safer option. Hers would have enemy eyes on it. She was still a target, even if Titan had decimated whatever GSI ops were on site.

He opened the door onto his floor, ready to kill, and walked them to the door farthest away from the elevator and closest to the other set of stairs.

“Home sweet home.” He inserted his key card and toed open the door.

She tried for a deep breath, which didn’t work out so well. Who knew why this time? She’d already been in his suite. They’d already done the down and dirty. Nothing else came to mind that could take her breath away. But, still, it was gone.

The weight of the room strangled her. Its tension and apprehension were smothering, except to Mr. Unflappable. Jared moseyed past her, not remarking about how she clung to the entryway like a wallflower at a high school dance.

Unable to step forward, Sugar wrestled with an internal battle. Alone with him again—I want him. I don’t want him.

“Hungry?” he called from the kitchen, rummaging around. The rest of his grumbles were inaudible, probably about her and their situation.

“Here.” He threw her a large bottle of water. His towering frame stretched against the doorway. “Drink.”

Always in charge. Always flexing his muscles. And why was that man always forcing food and drink on her? So irritating. But she was thirsty. “Okay.”

She twisted the top and followed him into the living room. He was so pushy. Although, he seemed to only push when necessary, like when she was dehydrated or drunk. Sugar bit her lip. Maybe he wasn’t the ass.

His brooding, intense gaze was hot. Lord help me.

“Drink faster, Sugar.”