Chapter Three
DEX TURNED OFF THE lamp and stayed on his side of the bed.
I stayed wide awake.
Light from the Pine Shadow sign seeped around the curtains and painted the ceiling in narrow green stripes.
The window unit rattled once, then pushed cold air over my bare shoulder.
The room smelled like cheap soap, dust, pretzels, and Dex, which was a deeply unfair combination for a woman trying to commit a felony with steady hands.
My hands weren’t steady.
They were cuffed in front of me under the sheet, warm metal loose enough to turn against my wrists, the short chain resting against my stomach.
Every small shift made steel whisper against skin.
Dex’s phone was pinned under his thigh. His keys were in his front pocket.
The room key sat on the little table on his side of the bed, where I could see the plastic pine-tree tag and not reach it.
He’d put himself between me and the door.
Dex Tolliver had turned the whole ugly motel bed into a security system and somehow made that inconveniently attractive.
I stared at the shape of him beside me: dark hair on motel-white pillow, hard jaw, black T-shirt pulled tight across his chest, one forearm bent over the coverlet.
The old crucifix rested against his shirt.
In the dim light, the worn silver body of Christ looked dull and heavy against the black cotton.
Gratitude would’ve been smarter.
My pulse kept catching every time I remembered his voice saying he trusted himself.
Men said a lot of things right before they proved themselves wrong.
“Dex,” I whispered.
His breathing changed.
I lifted my restrained hands under the sheet. The chain slipped cold against my stomach.
“If you’re awake,” I said, “take these off.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then his voice came through the dark, low and rough. “That doesn’t sound like a sleep request.”
“I’m not sleeping.”
“I noticed.”
“Then take them off.”
Dex turned his head on the pillow. The sign light caught the line of his jaw and the shine of his open eyes. He’d been awake the whole time. I’d been lying beside a man built out of suspicion and bad timing, and I’d still hoped exhaustion might be stronger than his job.
“You got a reason?” he asked.
“They’re uncomfortable.”
“That’s true.”
“They’re ugly.”
“That’s also true.”
“And you’re not going to sleep while I’m wearing them.”
His gaze dropped to my hands beneath the sheet, then came back to my face. “You think I’m staying awake because I feel guilty?”
“I think you’re staying awake because you’re a decent man in a terrible situation, and that’s probably exhausting.”
The corner of his mouth moved. “You always use compliments like bait?”
“Only on men blocking the door.”
“I’m not moving.”
“I didn’t ask you to move.”
“No.” His voice dropped another inch. “You asked me to take the restraints off.”
I turned onto my side, facing him, and the chain dragged softly over the sheet. The motion pulled my tank strap lower on my shoulder. I didn’t fix it.
Dex saw.
I smiled because every weapon deserved a proper grip. “Are you afraid I’ll run?”
“I know you’ll run.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You sound very sure for a man lying next to a woman he handcuffed.”
“I’m sure about a lot of things.”
“Are you sure about this?”
Dex’s eyes stayed on mine. Not my shoulder. Not the sheet. Not the place where my restrained hands rested too close to the bare skin above my shorts. His control was rude enough to be impressive.
I shifted closer anyway.
The bed gave under my hip. The chain slid again. His attention dropped, and heat pulled low through me so fast I had to swallow before I spoke.
“You said you trusted yourself,” I whispered.
“I do.”
“Then prove it.”
Dex breathed out through his nose. “Crystal.”
The name on his mouth hit wrong.
Not because it was ugly. Crystal’s name was soft and clean and had belonged to my sister since before either of us knew what a name could cost. It didn’t belong in this bed.
It didn’t belong between my thighs. It didn’t belong in Dex’s voice when he looked at me like he was one bad decision from putting his hands where I wanted them.
“Don’t call me that right now,” I said.
His eyes sharpened. “What should I call you?”
Nothing honest.
Nothing that would survive morning.
“Trouble,” I said. “You seemed comfortable with that one.”
“That fits.”
“So does the key.”
“Stop.”
The word slid between us, rough and quiet, and made the air hotter.
I stopped moving and kept my eyes on him. My hands stayed under the sheet. “I stopped.”
“Good.”
“You said that like you needed to hear it.”
“I did.”
The answer stripped the joke off my tongue.
Dex pushed himself up on one elbow. The coverlet rustled under him. His crucifix swung forward, a dark shape against his shirt, then settled. He was close enough now that I could see the fatigue at the edges of his eyes, the tension in his jaw, and the way his focus stayed nailed to my face.
“I’m not touching you while you’re restrained,” he said.
My breath caught.
I’d expected refusal, maybe. A lecture. A threat to call county. A reminder that I was wanted by the court and he was the man responsible for getting me there.
I hadn’t expected a boundary that made him harder to hate.
“Who said I wanted you to touch me?” I asked.
“You did.”
“No, I asked you to take them off.”
“You’re very good at saying one thing and meaning three.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“You’re a bookkeeper.”
I almost laughed at the wrongness of it. “That’s what the paperwork says.”
Dex shifted closer. “The paperwork has been disappointing me all night.”
“Paperwork does that.”
“If I take them off, you don’t go for the door.”
“That depends.”
His eyes narrowed. “On what?”
“On whether you kiss me first.”
The room narrowed around the low hum under the window.
Dex looked at my mouth.
This time he didn’t hide it.
Heat flicked over my skin, quick and bright. I flexed my hands under the sheet, and the steel answered with one soft click. His gaze dropped to the sound, then lifted again.
“I’m serious,” he said.
“So am I.”
“You’re in my custody.”
“I’m in your bed.”
“You’re trying to use me.”
“Yes.”
The truth sat between us without any place to hide.
Dex didn’t move away.
I held his stare and let the rest come out before bravery deserted me. “And I want you. Both things are true.”
His breath changed.
There it was. That tiny break. His fingers stopped on the sheet, and the line of his jaw tightened like he needed to bite down on the next breath.
“If you tell me to stop,” he said, “I stop.”
“I know.”
“If you run, this ends.”
“If I run, I’ll be gone.”
His mouth twitched despite himself. “That wasn’t reassuring.”
“I’m not built for reassuring.”
“No,” he said. “You’re built for making men regret getting out of bed.”
“Then why are you still in it?”
Dex stared at me for one more long breath. Then he shifted, pulled his phone from under his thigh, and set it on the nightstand, far from my reach. His other hand went to the small key on his belt.
The sound of metal against metal went through me too hard.
He didn’t fumble. He didn’t hurry. He kept his body between mine and the door as he took my left wrist first, sliding two fingers under the steel to keep it from pinching when he turned the key. The lock opened with a soft snap. Cool air hit the skin beneath it.
My wrist held a faint pressure line, nothing more.
Dex’s thumb moved once over it.
Not sexual.
Not even close.
My stomach tightened anyway.
He opened the other side and set the metal beside his phone. The small key disappeared into the front pocket of his jeans with the truck keys. He did all of it like a man who still believed the room was under control.
Then Dex looked back at me.
My hands were free.
For three heartbeats, I could’ve shoved away from him and made a break for the door.
I didn’t.
I slid my fingers around his wrist instead.
His skin was hot. His pulse beat steady beneath my fingertips. Mine wasn’t steady at all.
Dex looked down at my hand. “Last chance to make a smarter choice.”
“I’ve been making smart choices for days,” I said. “They’ve gotten me chased, cuffed, and fed vending-machine pretzels.”
“That’s a terrible résumé.”
“I’m ready to diversify.”
He gave a rough breath that might’ve been a laugh if either of us had been safe enough for humor.
Then I kissed him.
I pushed up on one elbow, caught the front of his T-shirt, and put my mouth on his like I had a plan, because I did. Get him close. Get him hungry. Make him careless. Get the keys.
The problem was Dex kissed like a man who’d been holding himself back by the throat.
For one breath, he stayed still.
Then his hand slid into my hair, and the room narrowed to his mouth.
He opened over me, hot and rough, and every careful inch of him went sharp. He didn’t shove me down. He didn’t grab like he’d won. He kissed like he’d decided the line had already been crossed and he might as well burn it behind him.
I made a sound against his mouth.
Dex swallowed it.
His fingers tightened in my hair, angling my head, and his other hand braced beside my hip. The sheet twisted between us. I dragged my free hand up his arm, over hard muscle and warm cotton, and felt him shudder once when my nails caught at the back of his neck.
The shudder moved through my hand and settled low in my belly.
I bit his lower lip, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make him pull back with a sound low in his chest.
His eyes were dark in the motel light. “You always this reckless?”
“Only when properly motivated.”
“My keys aren’t on the table.”
“I noticed.”
His mouth curved, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “I bet you did.”
“You flatter me.”
“I’m warning you.”
“Those are sexier when you mean them.”
Dex leaned in until his mouth brushed the corner of mine. “I mean every word.”
I shifted my thighs under the sheet before I could think better of it. His eyes dropped. He saw. He always saw.
I wanted to hate that.
Instead, I hooked one leg over his hip and pulled him closer.