He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I spent a lot of time being what other people needed. Supporting them, making sure they were okay. And I don’t regret it. But somewhere along the way, I forgot to figure out whatIneeded. Who I am when I’m not being useful to someone else.”
“That sounds lonely.” I touched his arm without thinking, feeling the warmth of him through his sleeve.
“It is.” He looked at me then, really looked. “But tonight, right now, I don’t feel lonely.”
My breath caught. “Neither do I.”
His eyes dropped to where my hand rested on his arm, then back to my face. The air between us shifted, thickening with something beyond understanding. Something hungry and electric.
“Want to move to a booth?” His voice was rougher now. “More private.”
I should say no. Should go back.
But I didn’t want to think about tomorrow. About meeting my brothers. About fitting into a family that didn’t know me.
I wanted to stay here, in this bubble where I was just Leigh and he was just Dex and nothing else mattered.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”
We moved to a corner booth, sliding into the same side without discussing it, close enough that our thighs touched. The contact sent sparks through me, and from the way his breath caught, he felt it too.
The conversation flowed easily after that. About feeling like an outsider, about watching other people build lives while you stood still, about the fear that you’d never find your place. He didn’t ask for details and I didn’t offer them, both of us keeping to the emotional truth without the specifics.
But the connection was real. Bone-deep. Like we’d known each other forever instead of an hour.
And underneath it all, the attraction built. His hand on my knee under the table, casual but deliberate. My fingers toying with the collar of his shirt. The way we leaned closer with each passing minute, the space between us shrinking until I could feel his breath on my face.
Time passed without me noticing. The bar grew quieter as people filtered out, but we stayed, wrapped in our own world.
“I needed this,” I said finally, my voice soft. “Tonight. This conversation. I’ve been dreading tomorrow for weeks, and I just needed... this.”
“I’m glad I could help.” His hand moved to my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “You’re going to be fine tomorrow. There’s no place in this world where you wouldn’t belong.”
The certainty in his voice, the way he looked at me like he could see past my defenses to the scared girl underneath, made my throat tight.
“You don’t even know me,” I whispered.
“I know enough.”
The moment stretched between us, heavy with possibility. Then he leaned in, and I met him halfway.
The kiss started soft. Tentative, testing. But it ignited something in both of us, and suddenly we were kissing like we’d been starving for it. His hands in my hair, my fingers fisted in his shirt, both of us trying to get closer despite the awkward angle of the booth.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“We should get out of here,” he said, his voice rough and low.
“Yeah.” My heart pounded. “Yeah, we should.”
We left money on the table and walked out into the night, his hand at the small of my back. The cool air did nothing to clear my head or cool the heat between us. It was like I could feel the anticipation of the moment vibrating against my skin.
The parking lot was mostly empty now, pools of light from streetlamps making everything feel surreal.
We made it three steps before we were kissing again, his back against the brick wall of the building, my hands everywhere. He tasted like whiskey and want, and I couldn’t get enough.
“God,” he breathed against my mouth, his hands sliding under my jacket. “You feel so good.”
“So do you.” I kissed along his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble, and he groaned.
