Still, butterflies stir low in my stomach, warm and restless at the thought of spending hours with Dex right next to me, no interruptions, no distractions. Just us.
I don’t even care where we’re going. Not really.
As long as I get to be close to him.
Ever since Mason left, we’ve been working nonstop. Long shifts, early mornings, late nights, barely any time to breathe, let alone be together. What we’ve had instead are stolen moments. A brush of lips behind the counter. A hand at my waist when no one’s looking. Breakfasts that turn into lingering kisses and quiet smiles we don’t quite explain.
It’s not enough.
But it’s everything at the same time.
I step out of my room, the soft creak of the door barely cutting through the quiet, and find him standing in the living room like he’s been waiting there a while. Like he knew exactly when I’d come out.
He looks up.
And he doesn’t look away.
His gaze drags over me slowly, deliberately, starting at my boots, moving up my legs, lingering just a second too long at my waist before settling on my face. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, something low and satisfied in it that makes heat rise to my cheeks before I can stop it.
“You’re all mine tonight, Tinker,” he says, his voice rough around the edges, like he’s holding something back.
My breath catches for half a second.
He’s dressed simple. A white T-shirt stretched across his chest, a black leather jacket thrown over it, jeans worn in all the right places, black cowboy boots grounding him in place like he belongs exactly where he stands.
There’s something unfair about how easily he pulls it off. Something dangerous in how good he looks without trying.
I’ll never get tired of looking at him.
“Finally,” I murmur, stepping toward him, unable to keep the smile from slipping into my voice.
The moment I’m close enough, his hand finds mine, warm and sure, and he pulls me into him like it’s instinct. Like it’s already a habit. His other hand comes to my waist, steadying me as his lips find mine, and just like that, the world narrows. Sound fades, time slows, everything else falling away until it’s just him and the way he kisses me like he’s been thinking about it all day.
Maybe he has.
“I can’t resist tasting your lips every chance I get,” he murmurs against them, his breath warm, his voice softer now, almost teasing.
I feel it all the way down.
“But we need to go,” he adds, brushing his lips over mine one last time before pulling back just enough to look at me. “I want you on my bike, holding me close while we ride into the sunset.”
Something in my chest tightens, not heavy, not painful. Just full.
He presses a quick kiss to the tip of my nose, gentle in a way that doesn’t match the rest of him, and then he takes my hand again, lacing our fingers together as he leads me out of the apartment.
The evening air greets us the second we step outside, cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of dust and distant fields. The kind of air that still remembers winter but is starting to soften atthe edges. The sky is shifting, blue bleeding into streaks of gold and pink as the sun dips lower, stretching shadows long across the ground.
His Harley is parked in the driveway, dark and solid, chrome catching the last light of the day.
He grabs a helmet and hands it to me before pulling his own on, movements easy and practiced.
I climb on behind him, the leather seat still warm from the sun, and this time there’s no hesitation. My arms slide around his waist naturally, my body fitting against his back like it’s already learned the shape of him.
Like it knows where it belongs.
The thought settles somewhere deep in my chest, warm and unfamiliar, spreading slowly like something I don’t quite trust yet.
For a second, I let myself sink into it. Into him. Into this… whatever this is that feels too steady, too real to be taken away.
