Dex didn’t move away.
I held his stare and let the rest come out before bravery deserted me. “And I want you. Both things are true.”
His breath changed.
There it was. That tiny break. His fingers stopped on the sheet, and the line of his jaw tightened like he needed to bite down on the next breath.
“If you tell me to stop,” he said, “I stop.”
“I know.”
“If you run, this ends.”
“If I run, I’ll be gone.”
His mouth twitched despite himself. “That wasn’t reassuring.”
“I’m not built for reassuring.”
“No,” he said. “You’re built for making men regret getting out of bed.”
“Then why are you still in it?”
Dex stared at me for one more long breath. Then he shifted, pulled his phone from under his thigh, and set it on the nightstand, far from my reach. His other hand went to the small key on his belt.
The sound of metal against metal went through me too hard.
He didn’t fumble. He didn’t hurry. He kept his body between mine and the door as he took my left wrist first, sliding two fingers under the steel to keep it from pinching when he turned the key. The lock opened with a soft snap. Cool air hit the skin beneath it.
My wrist held a faint pressure line, nothing more.
Dex’s thumb moved once over it.
Not sexual.
Not even close.
My stomach tightened anyway.
He opened the other side and set the metal beside his phone. The small key disappeared into the front pocket of his jeans withthe truck keys. He did all of it like a man who still believed the room was under control.
Then Dex looked back at me.
My hands were free.
For three heartbeats, I could’ve shoved away from him and made a break for the door.
I didn’t.
I slid my fingers around his wrist instead.
His skin was hot. His pulse beat steady beneath my fingertips. Mine wasn’t steady at all.
Dex looked down at my hand. “Last chance to make a smarter choice.”
“I’ve been making smart choices for days,” I said. “They’ve gotten me chased, cuffed, and fed vending-machine pretzels.”
“That’s a terrible résumé.”
