Page 70 of Don't Think

He slowly lifts a single finger. “Rule number one,” he says, his voice firm. “We stop the second anyone’s uncomfortable. No matter what.”

“I-I know.” My gaze drops to my lap, fingers absently toying with the hem of my shirt. “I’m sorry. I say stupid things when I’m nervous.”

When I look back into his eyes, I see them soften, and the corners of his mouth lift slightly.

“I’m nervous too,” he admits quietly, taking a sip of his water.

Well, at least I’m not the only one freaking out. I’m not sure whyhe’sfreaking out. I haven’t been with anyone since Trevor. That’s two years of being without any kind of physical touch. I’m sure he’s been with—

Nope.We’re not going there. You’re already wearing the damn lingerie. You’re doing this.

But the curiosity clings to me like a second skin. And I need to know.

“I… haven’t been with anyone since Trevor and I broke up,” I admit softly. “And he was the only one…ever. So this is all new to me.”

He nods slowly. “This is all new to me too,” he says, voice low, almost hesitant. “I haven’t been with anyone since my ex, Emelia.”

His gaze drops for just a moment, like he’s ashamed of it somehow. But instead of turning me off, it does the complete opposite. And now every doubt I had falls away entirely.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, then glance over my shoulder to make sure no one’s listening. When I turn back to him, I lean in a little closer.

“Did you already get the room?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thin keycard.

“It’s all set. Fresh linens and all,” he says, his voice lighter now. Then he slides the card back into his pocket.

His eyes return to mine, and this time, they’re not the kind eyes I’ve come to know over the past week. They’re darker now. Heavier. Like he’s picturing exactly what we could be doing right now if we weren’t both nervous wrecks.

I give him a shy smile, trying my best to look sexy, but I know it probably comes out more like a grimace. But hey, points for effort.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

“Only if you are.”

I stand slowly, nodding toward the door, my heart screaming inside my chest.

When we step out of the elevator, the stillness settles around us, and it’s like every nerve in my body flickers to life. The anticipation, the excitement, the worry. All of it crashes into me at once.

Not enough to change my mind, but definitely enough to have me secretly freaking out.

He leads the way slowly, our footsteps silent against the soft carpet as we walk side by side down the quiet hallway.

Then he stops in front of a door labeled11C.

“Well… here we are,” he says, his voice low, though I catch the hint of nervousness beneath it.

He pulls the keycard from his pocket and swipes it along the lock. The motion causing my pulse to whir.

Confident.

Tonight, I amConfident Allie.

And this isn’tJaxon Owens of Bottom Line.

This isJax. The man I rammed with my cart in a wine aisle at a random grocery store—a moment that somehow led us here.

The door swings open slowly, and I follow him inside.