Page 112 of Game Misconduct
He chuckles. “No sex. Just dinner. My place.”
“Dinner?”
“Actual food. Conversation. You get to learn how I became this charming.”
I laugh. “What’s the catch?”
He shrugs. “No catch. Wednesday is the beginning of a road trip, and I just want to spend some time with you. So, you show up. We eat. We talk. That’s it.”
That shouldn’t make my heart skip, but it does.
Because this is Maddox trying. This is him letting me in without letting me fix him first.
“I’d like that,” I say quietly.
His grin turns slow and sure, then just like that, it fades a little. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
My smile falters. “You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.”
I hesitate, glancing at the window. “There are cameras.”
“I know.” He opens the door but doesn’t touch me. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
He holds the door for me, letting me go first. I school my face and even out my expression.
Because I feel like floating.
But I can’t.
Not here.
We head down the hall side by side, the space between us charged in a way no one would guess.
And still, I want to reach for him.
His hand brushes close to mine once, and even though he doesn’t touch me, I swear I feel it anyway—like static on skin, like the warning before a storm.
Neither of us speaks.
The elevator ride is short and silent, filled with fluorescent light and unsaid things.
When the doors open to the executive lot, he steps out first, scanning the perimeter like it’s instinct. Like he always has to stay alert.
Like being seen with me would put a target on both our backs.
I lead the way across the pavement toward my car, heels echoing in the quiet.
The breeze catches my hair and flutters it against my cheek, and I feel him watching me as I tuck it behind my ear.
“Here,” I say as we reach my car. I click the key fob. The lights blink. The locks chirp.
He doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t lean in.
But his eyes burn into mine like he wants to.
“Wait for me here, and I’ll follow you,” he says, low.
