Page 222 of Playing With Fire

I brush a strand of hair away from her cheek. “We can watch a movie. Go back downstairs. I can take you to your room. Whatever you want.”

Her eyes move over my face. “What do you want?”

I laugh quietly. “That's a dangerous fucking question.”

“I'm asking.”

I take her hand. “I want you here.”

She looks down at our joined fingers. “And?”

“And I want to kiss you until neither of us remembers what we were arguing about downstairs.”

That earns me a small smile.

“But I don't want you doing anything because you think it's what I expect.”

She lifts her eyes. “I'm not.”

“Okay.”

“Are you?”

The question catches me off guard.

“Am I what?”

“Doing this because you think it's what I want?”

I stare at her.

Then laugh. “Jesus, Becks. Have you been paying attention to anything I've said tonight?”

She smiles. “A little.”

I bring her hand to my mouth.

“Good. Because I don't think I have another speech in me.”

“That's unfortunate. You were doing so well.”

“Smartass.”

“Learned from you.”

I kiss her knuckles, then let her hand go. “Give me a second.”

I cross to the dresser, take my phone from my pocket, and switch it to silent.

There's a message from Mercer.

Two from the team group chat.

And one from Declan.

Of fucking course.

I don't open any of them.