Chapter 26 #2
“Wow…” I breathe, stepping closer to the edge, my fingers brushing lightly against the smooth wood of the railing. “This place is…”
“Different?” Dex offers, pulling out my chair.
I glance back at him, smiling. “Yeah… but in the best way.”
He nods once, like that’s exactly what he was going for.
We settle in, and after ordering, the night begins to stretch out in a way I’m not used to. No rush. No one calling our names. Just the quiet hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, the steady pull of music threading through everything.
Dex watches me more than the stage.
I feel it every time I look up.
“What?” I ask, lifting my drink.
“Nothing,” he says, leaning back slightly, one arm draped over the chair. “Just like lookin’ at you.”
“You’ve seen me before.”
“Not like this.”
My fingers still against the glass.
The way he says it, it’s not a line. Just truth.
Something warmer settles in my chest.
At some point, his boot brushes mine under the table.
He doesn’t move it.
Neither do I.
The contact lingers, light but steady, awareness building with every second we don’t acknowledge it.
“You always do that,” he murmurs after a while.
“Do what?”
“Get this look on your face when you’re thinkin’ too much.”
“I’m not…”
His fingers brush my wrist, slow, deliberate.
“You are.”
My pulse stutters under his touch.
“And what if I am?” I whisper.
His gaze drops to my lips, then back up.
“Then I’d say you don’t need to tonight.”
The space between us shifts.
Thickens.
And then the first notes drift through the air.
Soft. Familiar.
My head turns toward the stage instantly.
No way.
The melody builds, wrapping around the room, and something inside me lights up.
“Dex…”
He’s already smiling.
“I heard you listen to her every day,” he says quietly. “Figured you were a fan.”
I turn back.
And there she is.
Lily Rhodes.
Her voice fills the theater, warm and raw, better than anything through headphones, the lyrics settling deeper now that they’re real.
My chest tightens.
My hand finds his without thinking, fingers curling into his. He laces them together instantly.
“Tinker,” he murmurs.
I look at him.
He nods toward the floor below.
“C’mon.”
My heart skips.
He stands, holding out his hand.
And I take it.
Of course I do.
He leads me down, the music growing louder, the lights warmer, everything pulling me deeper into the moment.
Then his hand slides to my waist.
Gentle.
Certain.
My hands rise, resting against his chest before sliding to his shoulders.
We move slowly.
His grip shifts, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
My breath catches.
His mouth brushes near my ear.
“You okay?”
A shiver runs down my spine.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “More than okay.”
His thumb traces slow circles against my hip, absentminded and devastating.
I tilt my head, my cheek brushing his, eyes slipping closed for a second.
The music.
The warmth.
The way he holds me like I matter.
And when his grip tightens just slightly, like he doesn’t want to let go, something soft settles deep in my chest.
Something steady.
Something I’m not ready to name.
But I feel it.
The rest of the night blurs in the softest way, like something I’m trying to hold onto even as it slips through my fingers. Music shifts from one artist to the next, the sweetness of cheesecake lingers on my tongue, his hand finding mine again and again like it belongs there.
And him.
God, him.
It’s not just the way he looks, though that alone could undo me if I let it, but the way he takes care of me, the way he guides me without making it feel like I’m being led, the way he looks at me as if I’m the most important thing in the room, no matter where we are.
This is Dex. Strong, impulsive, dangerous, and still somehow soft, protective, steady in a way that makes everything around him feel less uncertain.
The more I watch him, the more something inside me loosens, unravels.
Because it’s not supposed to be like this.
I was careful.
I promised myself I would be.
And yet somewhere between the music and the way his hand fits so easily in mine, between the quiet way he watches me like I’m something worth knowing and the way he pulls me close like letting go isn’t even an option, I’ve already crossed a line I swore I never would.
I don’t even remember when it happened.
When the walls I built so carefully stopped feeling like protection and started feeling like distance.
How did it happen?
How did I go from guarding my heart like it was the last thing I owned, to placing it, unprotected, unarmed, into the hands of this infuriating, wonderful man?
I’ve no clue. All I know is I never want to go back to a life without him.
And maybe that should terrify me.
But it doesn’t.
Standing here, wrapped up in him, in this moment that feels too full and too real to be anything but beautiful, the only thing I know for certain is that I don’t want to remember what my life felt like before him.
? ? ?
We get home at midnight, and the second the door shuts behind us, everything shifts, all the space we’ve been keeping between us for months collapsing at once.
Dex doesn’t say anything at first. He turns on the music, something slow and aching filling the apartment, and helps me out of my jacket before shrugging off his own. His hands linger a second too long on my shoulders, fingers pressing in slightly before he lets go.
But his eyes stay.
Slow. Heavy. Unapologetic.
He’s done pretending he doesn’t look at me like that.
“Tinker?”
My throat tightens. “Yeah?”
He holds out his hand, but there’s nothing casual about it. His jaw is set, a muscle ticking, his chest rising a little too fast. “Dance with me one more time?”
I place my hand in his, my pulse already betraying me. “I’ll give you all the dances you want, Pan.”
That lands somewhere deep. I see it in the way his fingers tighten around mine before he pulls me in.
His hands settle at my waist, no hesitation this time, no space left between us as he draws me flush against him, firm, grounding, as if he needs to be sure I’m real.
My breath stutters the second our bodies meet, heat sparking sharp and immediate, the kind that’s been building for too long to be ignored now.
I rest my head against his chest, but it’s not enough. I need to see him. I tilt my face up, and his eyes… God.
Dark. Starving. Holding back something that’s starting to cost him.
His fingers slide into my hair, slow at first, then firmer, settling at the back of my head as if anchoring himself there, holding on to the last thread of control.
“You don’t know how much I long for you every day,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, pulled from somewhere deep.
His mouth brushes my jaw, barely there, and it still hits everywhere at once, my stomach dropping, breath catching as his hand presses between my shoulders, keeping me close, while the other tightens just enough in my hair to tilt my head.
I let him.
I don’t even think about it.
Work Song starts playing, the sound wrapping around us, thick and slow, but it fades beneath the rush in my ears.
“This song…” His lips hover over mine, not touching, just close enough to make me ache. His breath is uneven against my mouth. “Always makes me think of you.”
I don’t get to respond.
He kisses me.
It’s not careful. His mouth finds mine with a hunger that steals the air from my lungs, and my hands fist into his shirt before I even realize it, like I’ve been waiting for this and finally stopped holding back.
He pulls me closer, closer than possible and still not enough, and I feel it everywhere, the heat, the tension, the way his body finally gives in.
A rough exhale leaves him against my mouth, the kiss hitting him just as hard, and he deepens it immediately, unable to hold it back.
I gasp into him, and he takes it, his grip tightening in my hair for a second before he forces himself to ease it, control slipping and then snapping back into place.
For me.
His mouth trails down my neck, slower now, but his breathing isn’t even, and when he reaches my ear, his voice turns rough as he sings the chorus, the sound vibrating straight through me.
I melt.
Fingers slip under my top, brushing bare skin, and my body reacts instantly, arching into him without thought, chasing the contact.
One touch.
And I’m gone.
“Dex,” I whisper, but it comes out like a plea.
“Hmm,” he hums, distracted, already moving along my collarbone, his hand flexing at my waist, holding himself in check.
“Dex…” I try again, softer this time, unsteady.
He stills.
My voice reached him.
His forehead presses to mine, both of us breathing too fast now, his hand still tangled in my hair, grip tightening briefly before easing again.
“You want to stop?” he asks, searching my face, his eyes dark, barely holding control.
I shake my head quickly, holding onto him tighter. “No.” My voice is breathless. “I… I trust you.”
Everything quiets.
Not the room. Him.
His grip tightens for a second, a deeper emotion catching in his expression before he exhales slowly, steadying himself.
I see it clearly now, the shift from want to something heavier, something that actually carries weight.
“You sure, Tink? We don’t have to… I’ll wait a hundred years if I have to,” he says, softer now.
And that’s it.
That’s the moment I know.
He’ll take care of me.
I pull him back down, kissing him because I can’t not, because the fear is still there but it doesn’t get to win anymore.
“I want you, Dex,” I whisper against his lips.
Something in him gives.
His hands slide under me, lifting me easily, instinct taking over, grip firm now, almost desperate. My legs wrap around him without thinking, and he carries us down the hallway without breaking the kiss, as if distance itself is unbearable.
“I can’t keep my hands from you,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice rough, strained.
The door shuts behind us.
And then it hits.
My chest tightens. My breath catches halfway in. A flicker of something cold moves through me before I can stop it.
What if I panic… what if I ruin this… what if those memories come back…
He feels it instantly.
Of course he does.
He pulls back, setting me down gently, his hands coming to my face, steadying, grounding, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he says, his voice firm again, controlled, even if I can still feel what sits just beneath it. “We can just sleep next to each other.”
My chest tightens for a different reason now.
Because that’s not what I want.
“No, I want to. I just don’t know how I’ll react…” My voice is smaller now. “I can’t control when the flashbacks come… or when I panic…” I shake my head. “I want this to be good for you.”
His expression softens immediately, like that’s the last thing that matters.
He pulls me back into him, firm, steady, safe.
“Lexy?”
No teasing. No distance. Just me.
“Yeah?” My voice barely holds.
He leans in, lips brushing mine this time, closer, more intimate, as if space between us is no longer something he can tolerate.
“If you feel like stopping, we stop, no matter how far in we are, okay?” he murmurs.
I nod.
“You trust me?”
I nod again, words gone.
His hand lifts to my face, thumb brushing my cheek, his jaw tightening slightly as a shift moves behind his eyes.
“Good,” he says quietly. “’Cause, Tinker… I’m in love with you.”
Everything stops.
He doesn’t pull away. His forehead stays against mine, his breath mixing with mine as if he needs to stay right here to say it.
“I didn’t think I was capable of love,” he whispers, his voice softer now, stripped down. “Then you happened… and all the noise in my head just quieted.”
Something inside me breaks open.
“I love you too,” I whisper, the words trembling as they leave me. “And I never thought I was ever going to be able to love anyone…”
His mouth finds mine before I can say more, like he doesn’t want distance, like he doesn’t need anything else but this.
My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens, slow for a second, then not.
“I’ve never known happiness like this,” he murmurs against my mouth, his voice rough again, slipping at the edges. “I don’t ever want to live without this… without you.”
“Then don’t,” I breathe.
That’s all it takes.
“Dex…” My lips brush his. “Make me yours.”
A low sound leaves him, and this time there’s nothing restrained in the way he kisses me. It’s deeper, rougher, everything he’s been holding back finally let loose.
We fall onto the bed together, his body over mine, heat and weight and breath all at once, hands everywhere, searching, urgent, as if we’re trying to make up for lost time.
His mouth moves down my neck, slower, but his breathing isn’t steady anymore.
He’s losing control.
He lifts the hem of my top, then stops, his eyes snapping back to mine, forcing himself to check.
“This okay?” he whispers, tension in every word.
“Don’t stop,” I breathe.
That’s all he needs.
Clothes disappear between kisses and unsteady hands, skin meeting skin, heat everywhere, his body hovering as if he’s trying not to overwhelm me, but I pull him closer because it’s not enough.
It’ll never be enough.
I need more.
My fingers trace the tattoos across his chest, memorizing every line.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens, a darker edge flickering in his eyes as they move over me. “You’re a masterpiece,” he murmurs.
His hand moves lower, then stills.
His eyes lift to mine again.
“You okay?”
“I’m more than okay, Dex,” I whisper, pulling him closer, my breath uneven. “I want this so bad that if you stop touching me, I think I’ll lose my mind.”
That breaks whatever he has left holding him back.
His grip tightens.
“I love you, Tinker,” he breathes.
“I love you too, Pan.”
He kisses me again.
And this time, I don’t think, don’t hesitate, don’t pull back.
I’m finally home.