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“I mean, you blew that out of the water. You’re an overachiever, Dex, and so are your brothers.” I tighten my arms around him, stepping into his embrace.
“We try.”
“I’ve seen how hard you work.” I turn him around so he’s facing me.
He brushes a stray curl back from my face.
Strange how he seemed so cold once, so unapproachable. Now, there’s so much softness in his face, even if it’s only there for me.
“But this history lecture… that isn’t all that’s wrong, is it?”
He half smiles, though his eyebrows pinch in a tiny frown again. God, I want to smooth it away.
“How do you do it, woman? Always seeing right through me.”
“Oh, please. Like you’re hard to read.”
My hand sweeps across his thigh, so close to where I know I’ll find him hard.
He chuckles, but it fades quickly as he looks down at me.
“It’s Haute. It’s always that fuck,” he growls. “Something about his offer still rubs me the wrong way. I’m sure it’s nothing, but due diligence is in order. Including what he wants with your bakery, sweetheart.”
I swallow, taking a moment to soothe my emotions.
It’s perfectly natural that he’s having second thoughts, especially when all this is bringing me deeper into his life.
That’s not what we agreed, after all.
And it’s cool that he doesn’t want to be involved any longer than we planned.
I can’t be mad at him for that, even if my heart hates being broken.
I step back to preserve the sorely needed space between us.
Space is good when we’re going to talk about heavy stuff, despite the absence of his heat feeling like a lost layer of my own skin.
“Dex, if mixing up the Sugar Bowl with your business makes things too complicated for you, I get it,” I say. My voice is too distant, too cold, and I clear my throat. “I mean, I know this agreement was only meant to last six months and—”
“Goddamn, woman.” His voice is rough as he takes my arm and pulls me back into him. Back into his warmth, his scent, his safety. “This isn’t about you.”
“But—”
He kisses me over my protests.
He pins me against him so firmly I shake.
With Dexter, it’s always easier to obey, and normally I don’t mind.
But tonight, there’s something different in the air.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he mutters against my lips. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, I swear.”
My heart buoys with relief.
Not yet,I want to tell him.But what about when this doesn’t make sense anymore?
What about when we’re supposed to check out and move on, when the unofficial contract expires?
