Dex saw.
I smiled because every weapon deserved a proper grip. “Are you afraid I’ll run?”
“I know you’ll run.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You sound very sure for a man lying next to a woman he handcuffed.”
“I’m sure about a lot of things.”
“Are you sure about this?”
Dex’s eyes stayed on mine. Not my shoulder. Not the sheet. Not the place where my restrained hands rested too close to the bare skin above my shorts. His control was rude enough to be impressive.
I shifted closer anyway.
The bed gave under my hip. The chain slid again. His attention dropped, and heat pulled low through me so fast I had to swallow before I spoke.
“You said you trusted yourself,” I whispered.
“I do.”
“Then prove it.”
Dex breathed out through his nose. “Crystal.”
The name on his mouth hit wrong.
Not because it was ugly. Crystal’s name was soft and clean and had belonged to my sister since before either of us knew what a name could cost. It didn’t belong in this bed. It didn’t belong between my thighs. It didn’t belong in Dex’s voice when he looked at me like he was one bad decision from putting his hands where I wanted them.
“Don’t call me that right now,” I said.
His eyes sharpened. “What should I call you?”
Nothing honest.
Nothing that would survive morning.
“Trouble,” I said. “You seemed comfortable with that one.”
“That fits.”
“So does the key.”
“Stop.”
The word slid between us, rough and quiet, and made the air hotter.
I stopped moving and kept my eyes on him. My hands stayed under the sheet. “I stopped.”
“Good.”
“You said that like you needed to hear it.”
“I did.”
