Page 81 of Dex

But when his arm tightens around me and he pulls me close against his chest, it reminds me of how real things feel between us sometimes.How dangerous that is, for my sanity.

“Relax,” he murmurs, almost against my temple.“Just follow my lead.”

He changes character so quickly and easily, it’s frightening.“You’re leading?”

“Yes, wife.”Smoldering dark eyes meet mine, glittering with promise.What will the night bring?My parents have given us a private suite nearby for our wedding night.I’ve tried not to think about it but the night will draw to a close, in not too many hours from now.

Dexter moves slowly, but deliberately.His steps aren’t polished but his confidence carries him.We sway to the music, slowly, eyes locked, bodies pressed.Heat building between us.

I’m acutely aware of everything.His hand resting on the small of my back.His jaw brushing mine when he turns his head.I feel dazed and dizzy.Drunk on the idea of love.Because Dexter is a very good actor.For someone who was so against this, this man has mastered the art of playing a loving husband.

We’re meant to be playing a role but this feels so real.

I’m not supposed to feel anything, and yet, I do.I let myself sink into the moment, loving the way Dexter’s hand moves along the curve of my back.The way his breath ghosts against my cheek as he leans closer, causing shivers to skitter along my skin.

To our watching guests, we look perfect.It even feels real to me, despite what this is—an alliance.Not for love, but for business.

How well we deceive everyone.

I look up at him, searching for something, needing to find something real.Confirmation that he feels what I’m feeling.Electricity zapping along my skin, turning my insides light and giddy.

His hand tightens when I move my fingers to his shoulder.Not possessive, but aware.Like he’s noting every breath I take.Every tremor I’m trying to suppress.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs.

“So are you,” I whisper back, averting my eyes.Trying to steady my heart, slow down my pulse.I can’t.I feel Dexter around me.Like he’s a part of me now.Potent and powerful.

The moment fills with silence, and everything we’re trying not to say.

“I didn’t expect this part to be hard,” he mutters.

“What part?”I glance up, my eyes catching his just long enough to lose my footing emotionally.

He holds my gaze.“The pretending.”

My breath catches.Just slightly.Hope rises from the base of my belly.He gently swipes his thumb across the fabric of my waist.It’s a subtle movement, and no one will notice.But I feel it like it burns.Like he’s branded me, just with this subtle, imperceptible movement.

“You’re quite good at this,” he murmurs, his voice low, just for me.

My fingers tighten slightly where they rest on his shoulder.“I could say the same for you,” I whisper back.“I didn’t have you down for a dancing type.”

“I’m not.”His mouth tilts, but his eyes stay serious.“You make this easy.”

My heart flips in my chest.I’m in danger of having feelings for my husband.But I can’t admit it.

Not here.

Maybe not ever.

He dips his head, his breath hot against my ear.When his lips brush my skin, shivers prickle across my neck.“I meant … you’re good at keeping up the pretense.”

My heart sinks.He pulls away and spins me out.The cold blade of disappointment sinks into me.Then he pulls me back in, closer this time.Too close, and our chests nearly touch.

“It’s easy to pretend.”I remain defiant, but say it with a smile, even though inside I’m hurting.I hope I have the strength to get through this night, and all the other nights.Three hundred and sixty-five of them.

“Our first dance, amor.The first of many things.”His fingers press lightly against the small of my back.

I let out a gasp.His touch makes my body react in ways that feel dangerous.Like I could give into anything he demanded, if he so wanted it.I look around, trying to focus anywhere but on my husband’s handsome face.

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