Page 271 of Love Me in the Dark
I catch it midair.
She curses and turns away from me, pacing in quick steps.
Her chest is rising and falling in short bursts. Adrenaline. Fury. Something else, too.
I step closer, slow, giving her every chance to retreat.
She doesn’t.
I reach out and gently touch the edge of her hairline, brushing back a stray piece of her decadent hair. Her breathstops. She tilts her face up. Our mouths are close now. Her pulse kicks beneath her skin, frantic and delicate.
She doesn’t lean in.
Neither do I.
Not yet.
Her lips part like she might say something but doesn’t. Whatever it is, it dies between us.
Her hand trembles. She steps back.
I let her.
Because I meant it—I won’t touch her until she asks.
But God, I’m not sure how long I can wait.
I nudge the plate toward her and turn my back, walking away before I break my own rule and claim her lips the way I’m craving.
It’s nearly midnight when I go back, summoned by her movement on the camera.
She’s curled beneath the covers, facing the door like she knew I’d return. Her eyes are open, waiting.
The lights are dim. The whole suite feels soft. Almost like a home.
“I can’t sleep,” she says.
I don’t answer.
She shifts, sits up, and wraps her arms around her knees. “Will you stay?”
I know what this is.
A test. A setup. A trap.
Her tone is light, but her fingers clench the blanket. She’s still in survival mode, just wearing it prettier now. Somewhere beneath that invitation is a shard of broken glass that she’ll use to her advantage.
“Say yes,” she whispers, eyes fixed on me like she’s daring me.
I should walk away.
Instead, I toe off my shoes and cross to the bed.
“You’ll regret this,” I murmur, pulling back the covers.
She doesn’t blink. “Maybe.”
I lie down beside her, on top of the sheets, one arm folded behind my head. She turns to face the ceiling, a breath between us.
