Chapter 954:
Rylie turned toward him, confusion flickering across her face. “What’s going on? I was just about to call—” Her sentence broke off halfway.
Brad stepped forward without a word. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a weight in his gaze that made her pulse skip.
Then, with slow precision, he began unbuttoning his shirt from the collar down, his fingers moving deliberately over each button. The faint rasp of fabric filled the quiet room as the line of his collarbone came into view, followed by the lean planes of his chest.
Rylie blinked, startled, struggling to process what she was seeing. “Brad?” she managed, her voice catching.
Why was he taking off his shirt out of nowhere?
Button by button, he stripped away the last barrier until his sun-warmed skin lay exposed beneath the soft lamplight, every contour of his abdomen clearly defined.
Even beneath his tailored suits, his build had always been evident—but with his shirt hanging open, the power in his frame became unmistakable.
“You…” Rylie breathed, her gaze tracking his every movement, her thoughts a jumble of disbelief and confusion. “What are you doing?”
Brad finally spoke, his voice low, restrained frustration threading through it. “Didn’t you say you liked bold, passionate men?”
Before she could respond, he finished undoing the last button and shrugged off his shirt, letting it fall in a quiet heap. He stood before her with steady composure, the lamplight carving sharp shadows across him.
“Is this bold and passionate enough for you?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.
Rylie’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Stop. My family is downstairs, you—”
“Isn’t this what being bold means?” he countered, his voice dropping. “To be unguarded. To go after what you want without holding back.”
His hand moved to his belt.
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Rylie snapped out of her daze and caught his wrist at once, coughing lightly as she steadied herself. “Don’t. Calm down, please. I already know how bold you can be. It was just Tommy…”
“I am calm,” Brad interrupted, his voice controlled—though the tension in his posture said otherwise.
Startled, Rylie released him and tried to step back, but he closed the distance effortlessly. His fingers circled her wrist before she could retreat.
“Feel this,” he murmured, guiding her hand to his chest.
Beneath her palm, his heartbeat was firm and fast, heat radiating through her fingers like a warning.
“Is this what you meant by passion?” he asked softly.
Rylie tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go. Her pulse raced as his hand guided hers lower in a slow, unrelenting line, stopping only when the air between them turned unbearably tight.
“Brad…” she whispered, her voice trembling, warmth rushing to her cheeks as she stood frozen in place, caught between explanation and the storm in his eyes.
The sculpted strength of his body, set against the calm, unreadable expression on his face, created a striking—almost overpowering—contrast.
.
.
.