“That sounds like my job,” he says, and the edge of anger in his voice is aimed at the world, not me.
I nod, fingers twisting in my lap. “Levi’s going to want to see you dead.”
“I can handle Levi,” Derek says dryly.
I snort. “No one can handle Levi.”
Derek’s lips twitch. “Then I’ll endure Levi.”
The smile that threatens my mouth is reluctant but real.
I reach for the door handle.
Derek’s voice stops me. “Audra.”
I pause, hand frozen.
“Yes?”
He hesitates, and the hesitation is louder than words.
“I’m not—” He swallows, jaw flexing. “I’m not going to pretend this didn’t happen.”
My heart stutters.
“I’m not asking you to,” I whisper.
Another beat.
His gaze drops to the robe, then back to my face—careful, controlled, respectful. “Do you want me to walk you inside?”
I swallow. The offer is simple. The world it opens is not.
I think of my keys. My front door. The safety of being alone. The safety of not letting anyone else in.
Then I think of last night.
Of the club. The lights. The warp.
Of waking up in his house still wearing my panties, still safe.
“I’m okay,” I say softly. “But… maybe stay until I get inside.”
He nods once, like that’s exactly the answer he hoped for.
He walks up the driveway with me anyway, not close enough to crowd, not far enough to leave space for fear. I unlock the door, step inside, and then turn back.
Derek stands on my porch, hands in his pockets, looking like a man who doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s not in control of the room.
I should go inside.
I should close the door.
Instead, I say, “Text me your number.”
His brow lifts. “You don’t already have it?”
“I don’t,” I admit, cheeks heating.
