Page 88 of Dex

“Share a bed,” I correct, ignoring the way my skin still tingles from his touch.

“Sleep together,” he echoes, his tone laced with suggestion.

He’s toying with me.Enjoying himself.The second glass of scotch has loosened his restraint further, making him bolder.

I let out an exhausted sigh.“This is purely a transactional arrangement, Dexter.”I lick my lower lip, and I see the way his gaze hooks and holds my mouth.He notices everything.

“I know that.”

“I’m exhausted.Sleeping with you tonight will be…” I hesitate, struggling for the right words.

“Easy?”he offers, with an annoying grin.“Because you’ll fall asleep in seconds?”

I scowl, but my stomach tightens at the lazy rasp of his voice.“I can doze off within seconds.I expect I will.”

He chuckles, low and smug.“You sure about that?”

My breath catches.There it is.The charged undercurrent neither of us wants to name.I lift my chin.“I think you’re more affected by this than you want to admit.”

“I could say the same for you,” he throws back.Then I see it; a flicker of raw emotion behind his cool, confident exterior.Then, just as fast, it’s gone.He steps back, shaking his head like I’m amusing.

Like I’m wrong.

“Sweetheart,” he says smoothly, “I don’t believe in love.”

It should sting.But it doesn’t.Because I see him.I smile, slow and knowing.

“Maybe not,” I retort.

His frown deepens.I know this game isn’t over.It’s just beginning.I turn my back to him.“Help me out of this, please.I can’t reach all the buttons.”

He does nothing and I give him some time.Because this dress is a masterpiece of silk and lace, fitted through the bodice, the back lined with a trail of impossibly tiny buttons.A design meant for a bride on her wedding night.A dress meant to be unfastened by a husband.

“Jesus,” he rasps, his tone laced in irritation.“Y-you want me to undo all these?”

I glance over my shoulder, letting my gaze drop to his hands.Big, strong.Completely ill-suited for the delicate task ahead.

“This is a purely transactional arrangement,” I remind him, teasing.“It should be easy for you.Like assembling a boardroom deal… or fixing a broken cabinet.”

He mutters a curse, but his fingers brush my skin near my shoulders and a jolt of heat zips through me.I brace myself, to not flinch from his electric touch.To not react, but his touch is slow and careful.My breath hitches when his knuckles keep skimming my bare skin.I bite my lip, willing myself to ignore the way my stomach tightens.

“How the hell did you even get these done up?”

“I had help.”

“Who?”He fumbles with the buttons, his fingertips grazing my back as he works down.I laugh, because he sounds a little, dare I say it,unhinged?Jealous even.I love it.

“Raquel.”I feel the need to put him out of his agony.

“Who is Oscar Ramos?”he asks suddenly.

I stiffen.“A businessman.”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

I stay quiet.

“Is there something I should know?”

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