Page 18 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

At some point, he glances down at his watch and sets his napkin on the table. “It’s getting late,” he says, standing smoothly and coming around to my side of the table. “Let’s get you home.”

He pulls my chair back with the same polished ease that he’s done everything tonight, and I let my arm slip through his without hesitation. His warmth is comforting as we step out of the restaurant, into the cool night air.

He was right. If anyone was watching us tonight, they’d have no doubt. We were perfectly convincing.

The drive to my apartment is quiet, but it’s not the kind of silence that feels awkward. It’s the kind that’s comfortable, like the words aren’t necessary. I ask Alex to drive, handing him thekeys with a little grin. He takes them without hesitation, sliding into the driver’s seat.

There’s something about the way his hands rest on the wheel, relaxed but in control, that makes me glance at him more often than I should.

When we finally pull up in front of my building, Alex steps out first, rounding the car to open my door before I even reach for the handle.

I step out, the cool night air brushes against my skin.

“This was a good night,” he says, his voice low, almost casual, but there’s an honesty in it that makes me pause. I look into his eyes, and the sincerity there does something to me. “I really enjoyed it.”

I glance at my watch—it’s just shy of 10 PM. The city is quiet now, a kind of peaceful hum in the background. “It’s late,” I say, my tone firm. “You should stay the night.”

His brows lift slightly, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to protest. “Katherine, I’m fine—”

“Alex,” I cut him off, stepping closer. “I’d feel better if you stayed.”

He hesitates, his gaze flickering between me and the building behind me. I can see the gears turning in his head, the polite refusal forming on his lips, but I don’t give him the chance.

“Please,” I add, softer this time, but no less insistent. “It’s late, and I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not out there trying to get a cab at this hour.”

His hesitation melts away, and he nods. “Alright,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If it’ll help you sleep better.”

A small smile tugs at my lips as I lead the way inside.

When we step into my apartment, I kick off my heels and toss my keys onto the counter. “Make yourself comfortable,” I say over my shoulder, already heading for the kitchen. “Do you want anything? Water? Coffee?”

“Water’s fine,” he replies, his voice coming from somewhere behind me.

I grab two glasses, filling them at the sink, and when I turn around, he’s leaning against the back of my couch, his jacket draped over the armrest. He looks so at ease, like he belongs here. The sight makes my stomach flip in a way I’m not entirely ready to unpack.

I hand him a glass, and he takes it, our fingers brushing for just a second too long. His eyes linger on me, and I find myself rooted to the spot, the glass in my hand suddenly feeling too heavy.

“This is a nice place,” he says, but his eyes are still fixed on me.

“Thanks,” I manage, setting my glass down on the counter.

It’s like the air has been sucked out of the room. My heart pounds, loud enough that I wonder if he can hear it. I’m frozen, rooted, completely powerless under the intensity of his gaze.

Alex is standing there in that black T-shirt that clings to every inch of his body. His chest is massive, broad, and his biceps strain against the fabric … it’s overwhelming.

And yet, I can’t look away. My breath catches in my throat, and the space between us feels charged, like static before a storm.

Then he clears his throat, a soft sound that slices through the heavy silence. “You looked amazing tonight,” he says, his voice low, a little rough.

I nod, my voice caught somewhere in my chest. “Thank you, Alex.” My tone is soft, but my eyes—my eyes are drinking him in.

His expression twists, his jaw tightening, his eyes darkening. When he speaks again, his voice is deeper, quieter, almost a growl. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

The words send a jolt through me, and I feel my breath hitch. My knees feel weak, and I barely register that I’m moving closer to him until I’m standing just a breath away.

And then he moves, just the slightest step, closing the gap between us. His eyes are locked on mine, searching, waiting. The room is so quiet now that I can hear every sound his breathing, and the heat rolling off him makes my skin tingle.

“Can I… hold you?” His voice is raspy, almost hesitant.

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