Jade glanced toward the hallway, then back at me. “You trying to make me cry, Tolliver?”
“No.”
“Good. I’d hate you.”
“I’d risk it.”
She set the towel on the counter and put both hands on my chest.
She didn’t push. She touched me like she was learning what stayed after the danger.
The crucifix lay beneath her palm, warm under cotton. Her fingers found the shape through my shirt.
“You really walked away from the bounty,” she said.
“Yes.”
“For Crystal.”
“For Crystal. For the truth.” I covered her hand with mine. “For you too.”
Her eyes closed for half a breath.
When she opened them again, the heat in her eyes had changed from the sharp motel burn that had turned every word into a weapon. This was lower, slower, and worse for my control.
“Dex,” she said.
I bent and kissed her.
Jade came up on her toes like she’d been waiting for the first honest touch all morning. Her hands slid from my chest to the back of my neck. Mine settled at her waist, careful of the scrapeon my knuckles and the ache under my ribs, then tightened when she made a soft sound into my mouth.
This time there were no cuffs to work around, no keys waiting for her hand, and no one hiding on the other side of a wall.
I backed her against the counter, then held there until her fingers tightened at the back of my neck.
Jade bit my lower lip. “If you stop to have an ethical crisis now, I’m going to break something decorative.”
“I don’t own anything decorative.”
“Then I’ll improvise.”
I laughed against her lips, and the sound came out rough.
Her fingers went to the hem of my shirt. “Off.”
“Demanding.”
“Efficient.”
“Yes.”
That stole one quick smile from her. Then she dragged my shirt up, careful when it passed my ribs, less careful when she saw the bruise spreading along my side.
Her face changed. “Dex.”
“I’m okay.”
“That’s ugly.”
