Page 66 of The Assist
He was careful with me last night. He always is. Even when he placed his hands on my waist to pull me closer and deepen the kiss, and when his voice drops to that low, rough register that melts my spine, he’scareful. It scares the hell out of me, how much I want him to stop being so careful.
But this isn’t afairytale.
This is real life, where we both have careers built on reputation and professionalism and not crossing lines. And last night? That was a line so thoroughly crossed I might as well be standing on the other side waving a flag.
I roll onto my side and grab my phone off the nightstand. No messages, which is somehow worse than a hundred unread ones. I stare at the screen until my stomach growls in protest, and I drag myself back out of bed.
By the time I’ve showered and thrown on joggers and an oversized hoodie, I’ve talked myself in and out of texting him about seven times. I settle on coffee instead.
And Sophie.
Because if anyone can talk me off this particular emotional cliff, it’s her.
“I KNEW IT!” Sophie shrieks through the speaker as I set the phone down on the kitchen counter. “I knew you were going to cave!”
“I didn’tcave,” I mutter, pouring milk into my mug and deliberately not meeting my own reflection in the shiny chrome kettle. “It was a temporary lapse in judgment.”
“Oh, honey. It was a full-body freefall into lusty chaos. Tell meeverything.”
I sigh and lean against the counter. “I kissed him.”
“No surprise there.”
“And then I asked him to stay.”
“Boom,” she says, and I can practically hear her grinning. “That’s the sound of your last ounce of willpower spontaneously combusting.”
“It’s not funny, Soph.”
“Oh, it’s a little funny.”
I smile despite myself. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t have toknow. That’s the point. You’re allowed to feel your way through this. You’re allowed to want someone and still be smart about it.”
“It doesn’t feel smart.”
“No,” she agrees, “it feels terrifying. But also, he stayed. Right? He didn’t bolt the moment things got complicated.”
“No,” I admit. “He didn’t. He…he was sweet. Really sweet. I don’t think he even slept properly. He just sort held me.”
“Okay, wow,” she says after a pause. “That’s unexpectedly tender. Was he wearing clothes or am I allowed to picture his abs right now?”
“He kept his clothes on. Mostly.”
“You’re no fun.”
I laugh into my coffee. “My car’s still at the rink. His mate’s supposed to fix it today.”
“So he’sstillhelping you out even after you broke all your own rules and let him stay the night? Damn. The man’s persistent.”
“Or just patient.”
Sophie hums. “Is that a bad thing?”
I think about it. About the way Dylan looked at me before he left. That hesitation at the door, like he didn’t want to go. The way he brushed a hand down my arm like he couldn’t help himself. “No,” I say softly. “It’s not bad. It’s just a lot.”
“You like him.”
