The Strict Uncle's Forced Kiss

I was pestering Cassian to try on a silver body chain for me when lines of text suddenly materialized in my line of sight. [Is this girl a total idiot?

Making the youngest Ivy League professor wear something like this?] [Her thirst levels are honestly off the charts. A metal harness on that cold, untouchable face?

Just thinking about it makes me… Wait, no! Cassian is about to get engaged to Genevieve!] [Almost time!

This toxic bitch loses her mind with jealousy, tries to crash the engagement party, and gets flattened by a car on the way. So satisfying!] All the blood drained from my face.

A sharp ringing pierced my ears. My fingertips turned to ice, and I instinctively jerked my hand back. Cassian intercepted my wrist. His grip was entirely too hot against my skin.

He smoothly snatched the delicate metal chain from my numb fingers. Without breaking eye contact, his free hand drifted to his crisp shirt collar.

A distinct pop echoed in the quiet room as he flicked the top button open. "Teach me how to put it on." Chapter 1 "You don't have to wear it," I said. Cassian froze.

A slight crease formed between his brows. "Does this chain need to be worn barechested?" I stared at him.

If this were the past, I would have smiled, hooked my arms around his neck, and purred, "Let me help you with that." Then I would have shamelessly followed him into the walkin closet, adjusting the metal links against his skin inch by inch.

I’d always taken advantage of the fact that Cassian hated it when I cried. I constantly pestered him to be my personal dressup doll.

I made him wear suits with no shirt underneath, tight black turtlenecks, shirt stays, armbands… every kind of "battle armor" I could think of.

He always put them on with a cold, blank expression. Once dressed, he would stand perfectly still, letting me circle him like a predator admiring my prey.

Then I’d throw myself at him for a hug. Every single time, his entire body would go rigid.

His Adam's apple would bob, he’d avert his eyes, and his jaw would clench tight as he pretended to find the view out the window fascinating. I used to think he was just shy.

Turns out, he was disgusted. A sour taste pooled at the back of my throat. My fingernails dug halfmoons into my palms. I had been so stupid.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay perfectly steady and sweet. "You don't have to wear these kinds of things for me anymore." Cassian’s frown deepened. He closed his eyes.

Whenever he did that, it meant his brain was calculating. My dad, Marshall, always joked that Cassian’s IQ was so high because he traded his emotional intelligence for it.

When it came to feelings, the man was basically a cyborg. He used raw logic to process emotions. A second later, his eyes snapped open.

His long fingers deftly buttoned his collar back up. "Fine." He smoothed the crisp fabric of his shirt. "That will give me more time to focus on work." A dull ache bloomed right behind my ribs.

It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Cassian was Marshall's senior in grad school.

My dad had worked for a few years before heading back to get his master's degree at twentyeight.

Cassian had started his master's program at fifteen, making him the youngest student in the entire department. Nobody wanted to hang out with him.

They thought he was too young, too arrogant, and utterly incapable of normal human conversation.

Only my dad—a fiercely extroverted guy who had already survived the corporate grind—was willing to give Cassian the time of day. Over time, Cassian became my dad's best friend.

And by default, my honorary uncle. I’d had a massive crush on him since I was a kid. Compared to Cassian, boys my own age were invisible.

I studied until my eyes bled just to get accepted into the elite university where he taught.

When Cassian showed up at my high school graduation party, I shamelessly shot my shot. "Cassian, let me move in with you when the semester starts.

Your place is huge." Cassian didn’t answer me directly.

He turned his head to consult my dad. "Marshall, do you think that's appropriate?" My dad, a few drinks deep and laughing with the other guests, turned around with a massive grin. "Sure!

It's perfect. You can keep an eye on her and make sure none of those college punks try to steal her away." Just like that, I got exactly what I wanted. I moved in with Cassian.

Chapter 2 For a while, my chest felt like it was packed with wet sand. But I swallowed the bitter pill. Cassian didn't want me. He was going to get engaged to Genevieve.

I had to lock down my impulses and steer clear of that bloody hitandrun ending waiting for me. No more acting like a stagefive clinger. The weekend rolled around.

In the living room, Cassian stood by the entryway, his phone pressed to his ear.

His teaching assistant was on the other end. "Professor, I cancelled that Priority C guest lecture, just like always." "Mm." "You can focus on your Priority A tasks for the weekend." "Good." Priority A tasks?

I sank deeper into the couch cushions, my ears perking up. What on earth ranked as a Priority A in Cassian's rigid schedule? A massive federal grant project? A date with Genevieve?

Before I could spiral further into my own head, Cassian ended the call and walked over.

His tall shadow fell over me. "Aren't we leaving?" I looked up, and my breath hitched in my throat. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that nipped at his waist.

The lines were sharp, emphasizing his cold, untouchable aura. He looked like a highfashion model who had taken a vow of celibacy. Wait a second. Leaving? Going where?

The memory hit me like a brick. Every single weekend, I used to drag him to the mall.

I would eagerly try on endless racks of cute dresses, skipping out of the fitting room to twirl for him and demand his opinion. God, he must have been suffocating.

I shoved down my old selfish habits and pasted on a perfectly sweet smile. "You don't have to take me shopping today." Cassian paused.

A tiny crease formed between his brows. "You said you needed new clothes every week." "I already ordered some online." I hadn't.

My original master plan had been to buy a Playboy bunny outfit to see if I could finally break his icy composure. Looking back on it now, I'd rather just keep my pulse.

Survival first. A heavy twosecond silence stretched between us.

The crease on his forehead deepened. "Then what are we doing this weekend?" "Watching a movie." His brow smoothed out.

A faint, almost imperceptible shift crossed his dark eyes. "I'll go with you." I shook my head. "No need.

I'm going with someone." "Who?" His knuckles turned white around his car keys. "Just a girl from my class." I blinked at him, keeping my smile soft and harmless. "Don't worry, Cassian.

I won't hog your free time anymore." All the color drained from his face. He looked like a computer that had just crashed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his brain clearly grinding through calculations.

In the past, I would always use this window to lay out my demands in plain English, ensuring his logical mind processed exactly what I wanted. "You can focus entirely on your research this weekend," I added.

Cassian opened his eyes. "Right." He looked down and started swapping his shoes.

He kicked off his sharp leather oxfords and slid his feet into the giant, fluffy wolf slippers I had bought for him. He put them on the wrong feet. Left on right, right on left.

His body was moving, but it looked like his soul had left the building. A sharp pinch hit my chest. I opened my mouth to call his name.

But the floating text materialized in my vision again. [Lmao, Cassian is a total NPC to everyone except Genevieve.] [His genius brain only has enough RAM for her.] [This side character needs to take a hint and get out.

Getting hit by a car will put her in her place.] My lungs tightened. Every breath felt like dragging air through a wet sponge. I looked back up at him.

Cassian was already seated at his massive desk, his laptop flipped open. The harsh blue light of the screen washed over his face.

It highlighted the sharp bridge of his nose and his sculpted brow bone. He was gorgeous. Strikingly, flawlessly gorgeous. But he wasn't mine.

Drooling over another woman's man was a losing game. I dragged in a deep, shaky breath. "Cassian. Maybe… I should move out." Cassian didn't react.

Chapter 3 His long fingers flew across the keyboard. He was dialed in. Focused. Distant. He hadn't heard me. Or maybe he had, and just didn't care.

A hard lump formed in the back of my throat. Did Cassian care about me even a fraction of an ounce? Or was I just a lingering obligation because of Marshall?

It didn't matter anymore. I was packing my bags next week. Our weekend "movie" was actually an exclusive screening on campus.

Most of the girls in the auditorium were only there for the director. Caspian. A university alum and the hottest rising director in the indie film scene.

People treated him like the next Hollywood heartthrob. His movies were just as gorgeous to look at as he was. I was only there for the wardrobe.

The lead actress's vintage dresses were absolutely stunning. I couldn't stop snapping photos in the dark.

When the credits rolled and the lights flickered on, a voice called out behind us. "You know you're not allowed to leak those screening photos, right?" I spun around.

Caspian stood in the dim aisle, squinting down at me. He had dark, wavy hair brushing the nape of his neck and the lazy, effortless vibe of an artist.

My friend yanked my sleeve, letting out a stifled squeak. My face burned. "I promise I won't post them anywhere.

The costume design was just too incredible to ignore." Caspian finally got a good look at my face. He actually sucked in a breath. "You have great taste.

And who doesn't appreciate beautiful things?" He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He had the overwhelming, charismatic energy of a golden retriever.

We ended up talking for forty minutes. When he spoke, he naturally leaned in.

He kept the physical distance perfectly calibrated—just close enough to spark a little tension without crossing any lines.

As the auditorium cleared out, he pulled out his phone. "Let's exchange numbers.

I'll send you the actual design sketches for those dresses." The second we stepped outside, my friend bumped my shoulder. "Did you see the way he was looking at you?

He is definitely interested. Older guys know exactly what they're doing!" I hummed in agreement. But Cassian's cold, sculptured face immediately hijacked my brain.

As much as I appreciated a smooth, older guy, I realized I preferred the rigid, obedient kind. But my rigid guy didn't want me.

I let out a heavy sigh and accepted Caspian's contact request. If Cassian knew I was obsessing over someone else, he would probably be thrilled to finally have me out of his hair.

I pushed the front door open to a pitchblack apartment. Cassian wasn't home. Normally, at this hour, he would be anchored to the couch, highlighting academic journals.

I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over his name to ask where he was. I forced myself to lock the screen. I flipped on the lights and sank into the empty cushions.

The silence in the room was deafening. My phone buzzed.

It was Marshall. "Leighton, guess what Cassian did today?" "Attended a symposium?" "Wrong!" My dad's voice was practically vibrating with gossip. "He called me in a panic, claiming something was physically wrong with his heart!" I instantly sat up straight, my grip tightening on the phone. "What?

Is he okay?" "I told him I'd rush him to the ER. But guess where he actually went?" I didn't say anything.

Typical Marshall, always holding the punchline hostage. "The guy drove straight to the luxury mall, bought half a dozen new outfits, and signed up for a premium personal training package!" My brain stalled out.

Personal training? Cassian already hit the gym every single day. He had broad shoulders that tapered into a lean, narrow waist.

Whenever he wore a dress shirt, his chest practically strained against the buttons. He was already built like a runway model.

Marshall was getting louder through the speaker. "I've known the guy for years. He only works out to maintain his stamina for research marathons.

Today, he literally told me that if he doesn't start body sculpting, he won't look good in his clothes." Chapter 4 I gripped my phone, my pulse skipping a beat.

Marshall sounded wired, like he was prepping for an allnighter. "The kid definitely has a girl he likes! Twentyseven years of being a block of wood, and he's finally blooming!

I have no idea who she is. Leighton, you live with him.

Have you seen her?" "I know who it is." I dragged in a slow breath. "Her name is Genevieve." It was the female lead's name from those floating comments.

Marshall's voice spiked an octave. "You mean our old professor's only daughter!" He went on to explain that Genevieve had been studying abroad and just finished her PhD to return stateside this year.

Last month, their department hosted an alumni mixer. The old professor purposely brought Genevieve along to introduce her to Cassian.

He even made them exchange numbers and told Cassian to keep in touch. It was an obvious setup. I clamped down on the inside of my cheek until it tasted like copper.

The timeline matched perfectly. Marshall was still rambling. "Less than a month, and the sparks are already flying!

Getting a robotic academic like Cassian to feel something—this girl is incredible!" A heavy knot formed at the base of my throat.

That was the power of the female lead's halo, I supposed. Marshall wasn't done.

He added that Cassian had actually walked into a highend luxury boutique today and dropped fifteen grand on a designer bracelet.

When Marshall asked who it was for, Cassian had replied, "For the person who caused my heart to malfunction." Marshall eagerly translated the nerdspeak for me. "I've known this guy for eleven years.

When he says his heart is malfunctioning, he means his heart rate is spiking. He means he's in love." My chest gave a sharp lurch. Fragments of memories flashed behind my eyes.

Every time he tried on those clothes and I leaned in close, his hand would flinch toward his chest. Could it be… Was the person making his heart race—me?

Marshall shattered the illusion with his next breath. "Genevieve officially starts as an associate professor at the university next week.

That bracelet is definitely an onboarding gift." My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. Next week. It was also my birthday.

A while back, I had practically begged him for a diamond tennis bracelet as a gift.

He had lowered his academic journal, fixed me with a deadpan stare, and delivered his verdict. "Diamonds are just pressurized carbon atoms.

There is zero logical reason to pay a massive retail markup for them." At the time, I had been so mad I wanted to bite him. Now, I just felt hollow.

A lead weight settled in my stomach.

The female lead really got entirely different treatment. "What does Cassian even look like when he's dating someone?" Marshall mused through the speaker. "I'm honestly fascinated." I had wondered the exact same thing.

Dozens of times. I had laid awake imagining what his face looked like when he kissed someone.

Would he still have that icy, unreadable expression, waiting for a direct command before making a move? If someone told him to keep kissing, would he just go until he passed out?

If he actually got turned on, what would he do? What would that look like? But none of that mattered to me anymore. He was only going to kiss Genevieve.

I sniffled, aggressively rubbing at my nose. "Dad, I don't want to know. I'm hanging up." "Wait—" I ended the call.

I opened Instagram, adjusted my privacy settings to block Marshall and Cassian, and typed out a quick text Story. [Moving out next week.

Need muscle.] A notification popped up instantly. [Caspian: Muscle at your service.] When Cassian finally walked through the door, he was wearing a heavy, black textured overcoat.

The sharp tailoring accentuated his impossibly broad shoulders and long legs. The visual impact of him was almost violent.

I immediately walked right up to him. "I have something to give you." The corner of his mouth twitched.

A faint, expectant light flickered in his dark eyes. "What is it?" In the past, whenever I waited by the door like this, it was to hand him a new outfit to try on.

Chapter 5 I held out the heavy black card, the plastic cold against my palm. "I’m returning this." The faint trace of a smile on Cassian’s face vanished instantly. "What is this supposed to mean?" "I’m not spending your money anymore." His brow snapped into a hard line, and he made no move to take it. "Keep it." "I don't want it." "Leighton." He used my full name.

I looked up, and the sight of him made my pulse stutter.

He looked unwell—his chest was heaving with jagged, suppressed breaths, and his jaw was set so tight I could see the muscles leaping in his cheek. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous vibration.

I assumed he was talking about my past—about how I used to swipe his card like it was my job. I lowered my head, my guilt heavy in my stomach. "I’m sorry. I was immature before.

I didn't know better." Cassian squeezed his eyes shut. His Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively.

When he opened them again, the edges of his eyes were rimmed with a faint, desperate red.

He stared at me, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper through gritted teeth. "If you keep this up, I don't know what I’m capable of." The raw edge in his tone felt like a threat.

I stumbled back a step, my heart hammering against my ribs. "It won’t happen again," I whispered. It couldn't. I was leaving. On my birthday, I called Caspian to help with the move.

I had planned to say a proper goodbye to Cassian before I left, but I waited from dawn until dusk and he never showed. Finally, a text lit up my screen: [Important meeting today.

I’ll try my best to get back in time.] In the past, I would have sent back a dozen crying emojis and demanded he buy me a gift to make up for it.

Now, I just typed: [It’s fine.] He must have felt the shift in the air, because he replied instantly. [Wait for me. I have a surprise for you.] I didn't see that last message.

The doorbell rang.

Caspian stood there in a vintage Britishstyle pinstripe suit, looking like he was ready to walk a red carpet instead of haul boxes. "Is the highfashion look really necessary for a move?" I asked, a small smile tugging at my lips.

He flashed a grin that was entirely too charming. "When you're chasing a girl, you have to be intentional about the presentation." I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat.

Caspian just laughed softly, skillfully moving the conversation along. "Ready to go, Leighton?

Are the boxes packed?" Together, we started hauling the sealed cartons into the living room.

I hadn't realized how much space I took up until I saw eighteen boxes filled with nothing but my clothes.

Caspian wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, teasing, "Next time I start production on a film, can I raid your closet for the costume department?" I was about to laugh when the front door slammed open.

Cassian walked in carrying a premium gift box. "Leighton, I’m home—" He stopped dead. The light in his eyes extinguished the moment he saw Caspian.

His gaze raked over the other man, then flickered to me, finally landing on the wall of luggage stacked in the center of his living room.

His knuckles turned white around the gift box. "Are the two of you eloping?" I blinked, stunned by the sheer absurdity of the question. "Don't be ridiculous. This is Caspian.

The director." Cassian’s eyes narrowed, the pieces finally clicking together in his mind. "Last week… you didn't go to the mall because you were seeing his movie?" He took a predatory step forward. "And now you're moving in with him?" My head spun.

Was he even speaking the same language? "What are you talking about? I—" Cassian’s massive frame blocked the exit, his shadow looming over us both. "You’re not moving.

I don't give you permission." Caspian stepped up, his expression turning sharp. "Professor, you don't have the right to restrict her freedom." "I’m her uncle!" "Are you two bloodrelated?" Caspian countered coolly.

Cassian’s jaw worked, but no words came out. He turned his glare back to me, his voice dripping with ice. "How old is he?" "Twentyfive," I muttered.

Cassian let out a sharp, mocking huff. "Five years older than you. An old man.

He clearly knows exactly how to manipulate young girls." "Hey, don't say that—" Caspian cut me off, his tone calm and unapologetic. "Professor, I’m pursuing her.

Is there a problem?" "I said I don't approve!" Cassian’s fists were clenched so hard they were shaking. His chest heaved in sharp, erratic bursts.

He stared at me, his eyes dark with a mix of command and raw, naked pleading. "Don't go." Chapter 6 A violent tremor went through my chest.

Cassian had never lost his composure like this. He was always cold. Always distant. Always a perfectly calculated machine.

But right now, he stood there like a tightly coiled wire, one millimeter away from snapping. "Why won't you let me leave?" I asked.

A pathetic, tiny spark of hope ignited in my ribs. Is it because… you like me? Cassian broke eye contact.

His jaw clenched, and his voice dropped to a flat, mechanical baseline. "I made a promise to your father." The spark extinguished instantly, leaving behind a hollow pit in my stomach.

Of course.

Caspian stepped forward, deliberately angling his body between us. "Professor, let her make her own choices." I dragged in a lungful of air and forced the words out. "I'm moving out." "Leighton!" Cassian's voice cracked like a whip, but no further words followed.

His dark eyes locked onto Caspian’s vintage pinstripe suit. "Did you buy that suit yourself?" he suddenly asked. "It was a gift," Caspian replied. Cassian’s eyes darkened.

With a stiff, completely unnatural motion, he reached for a halffull mug of coffee on the console table and "accidentally" knocked it straight onto Caspian's lapels.

The dark liquid instantly ruined the pristine fabric. Since when was he this incredibly petty? Exhaustion settled deep into my bones. I didn't want to fight anymore.

I grabbed a tissue, apologetically dabbing at Caspian's ruined jacket. "Let's just go." The luggage could rot here for all I cared.

I could hire a moving company to deal with it later. Panic flashed across Cassian's face.

He ripped his phone out of his pocket and hit a speed dial. "Marshall," Cassian said, his voice hard and urgent. "Leighton is trying to move out.

For an older man." My dad's voice exploded through the speaker, so loud it actually distorted. "Do not let her leave! I'm on my way! Cassian, block the door!

Nobody is stealing my little girl!" I was forced into a stalemate. Cassian and Marshall formed a united, impenetrable front.

They spent the next hour lecturing me about how I was too young and naive to be manipulated by a scheming older man. My fingernails bit into my palms. I was too livid to even argue.

I was so livid I didn't even touch the birthday gift Cassian had left on the counter. I threw all my energy into ignoring his existence. But avoiding him was physically impossible.

Cassian had apparently discovered online shopping, and he suddenly practically lived at the gym.

He was vibrating with this weird, intense energy, like a man undergoing a forced metamorphosis.

When I left for class in the mornings, he would be sitting on the sofa reading academic journals—wearing a brandnew tailored suit with absolutely nothing underneath the jacket.

When I came home at night, he would be standing in the kitchen boiling noodles in a waistcinching vest that highlighted every line of his torso.

Today was the most ridiculous escalation yet. I was paralyzed on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through short videos on my tablet. I happened to glance up.

Cassian was entirely barechested. His only article of clothing above the waist was a babypink apron.

The thin straps were tied into a neat little bow at the small of his back, making him look exactly like a ridiculously muscular present waiting to be unwrapped.

A heavy lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard. The pink was soft and sweet, a stark contrast against the hard planes of his chest.

He looked entirely too— Cassian held a microfiber cloth, aggressively wiping down a glass coffee table that was already spotless. He’d wipe twice. Glance at me. Wipe twice.

Glance at me again. The air in the room felt thick and suffocating. Who could survive this kind of psychological warfare? I aggressively shoved my face back into my tablet screen.

Do not look at him. If I looked too long, every other man on earth was going to look entirely inadequate. I had to stay sharp.

I was just the disposable side character in this narrative. I needed to stay awake. Cassian’s jaw ticked.

He deliberately knelt down right in front of me, bringing that expansive, bare chest directly into my line of sight.

At that exact moment, a dramatic voiceover from my tablet echoed through the quiet living room. "Pink is such a youthful, delicate color.

How old are you again?" Cassian froze midwipe. His expression plummeted into absolute darkness.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat, but I managed to choke it down. "Uncle, are you—" "Do not call me uncle!" he snapped. The tips of his ears were burning a furious, dark red.

He threw the rag onto the table and surged to his feet. My breath hitched. When he stood up, the sudden movement shifted the apron.

I caught a fleeting, hyperfocused glimpse of the hard muscle shifting underneath the pink fabric.

The pink apron was definitely delicate, but the faint flush on his skin was infinitely more distracting. Jesus. I was intensely jealous of Genevieve.

She was going to get to feast on all of this. Thoroughly humiliated by the reminder of his age, Cassian stormed out of the apartment. He didn't come back all day.

That night, my phone buzzed with a frantic, incoming call from Marshall. Chapter 7 "Leighton, Cassian actually dragged me to a karaoke bar today!" I froze. "Him?

A karaoke bar?" "Yeah!

He queued up over thirty heartbreak anthems and just sat in the dark listening to them all night!" Marshall's voice was laced with pure panic. "Do you think he and Genevieve got into a fight?" I stayed perfectly quiet. "To show my brotherly support, I grabbed the mic and sang 'Brothers,' 'Give Your Brother a Hug,' 'My Good Brother'…" Marshall sounded deeply wronged. "I was pouring my heart out, and he actually told me to shut up." "He even asked me, 'Why am I brothers with you?' Do you think he doesn't want to be my friend anymore?

Did you do something to piss him off?" Cassian's dark, furious face from earlier that day flashed through my mind: "Do not call me uncle!" My heart hammered against my ribs.

Was Cassian… trying to cut ties with our entire family? I did everything in my power to avoid Cassian, terrified of triggering his disgust.

I left the apartment at seven in the morning and didn't return until ten at night. I ate my meals at offhours and kept my bedroom door deadbolted.

Caspian came to campus for a film promo event, and I arranged to meet him at the university gates after the screening.

That night, under the blooming cherry blossom trees, I handed him a heavy garment bag. "I'm so sorry about getting your clothes ruined last time.

Here's a replacement." Caspian took the new suit with an easy smile. He stepped closer, lifting a hand to brush a stray pink petal from the ends of my hair. "Don't apologize.

I'll just consider this the very first gift you've ever given me." Before I could process that, he pulled a delicate chain from his pocket and smoothly fastened it around my wrist. "A return gift." Before I could even react, a brutal grip clamped down on my opposite wrist.

I was violently yanked backward. Cassian stood in the deep shadows of the trees. I had no idea how long he had been watching.

His long fingers dug into my skin, the pressure hard enough to ache. "We're leaving." "I'm not going." Suddenly, all the rigid tension drained from his massive frame.

He slumped heavily against me, his weight crushing. A strong, burning wave of highend liquor hit my face. He was drinking? Cassian lifted his head.

His dark eyes were glassy and unfocused. He forced himself upright, his posture stiff and entirely unnatural. "Fine. Leave me.

I'll drive myself home." My chest tightened sharply. "Are you insane?

That's incredibly dangerous!" Caspian took a deliberate step forward. "Do you need some help with him, Leighton?" I sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm so sorry, Caspian.

I need to get him home first." Caspian just looked at me, a soft, unwavering smile on his lips. "It's alright. You can give me your answer whenever you're ready.

My intentions aren't going to change." Cassian's grip on my wrist turned bonecrushing. Once we were inside his SUV, he didn't reach for the ignition.

The heavy doors sealed us in the dark.

The air inside the cabin instantly thickened, suffocatingly heavy with the sharp scent of alcohol and his familiar, cold cologne. "You never drink.

Why would you—" Cassian surged across the center console.

His massive frame completely eclipsed the streetlights, violently caging me against the leather seat. "You wear his bracelet." His gaze dropped to my wrist, the muscles in his jaw leaping. "But you refuse to wear mine." His breathing was shattered, washing hot over my collarbone. "He is five years older than you.

You call him by his name. You smile at him." The physical distance between us was practically zero.

I could see the rapid, erratic thumping of the pulse in his neck. "I am only seven years older than you.

And you call me your uncle." The rims of his eyes were a violent, bruised red.

He stared fixedly at my mouth. "Why does he get a pass?" My pulse redlined, slamming against my throat.

The heat radiating off his body was melting my nerve endings. "Because… you're two years older than he is?" He blinked.

The lethal predator vanished, instantly replaced by the shattered look of a massive, abandoned dog. He dropped his head, burying his face heavily into the crook of my neck.

He let out a ragged, broken exhale against my bare skin. "Leighton.

I think I'm drowning." He was definitely wasted. "Drowning in what?" I managed to choke out. "Jealousy." His large hand clamped hard around my jaw, tilting my head back.

He crushed his mouth over mine. Cassian's POV