Page 86 of His Surrender

Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that hallway outside the restroom.

He actually admitted he’d been trying to stay away from me. And the way he looked at me like I was the answer to a question he’d been fighting himself not to ask.

Then another interruption—another almost kiss.

I groan into my pillow.

This has to stop.

I can’t keep replaying the same thirty seconds over and over.

Carefully, I slip out of bed, grateful I don’t have to worry about waking Sydney, who’s sleeping in one of the guest rooms clear across the penthouse.

She insisted she wanted to give me my space, though right now, I would welcome someone to distract me from my own thoughts.

The hardwood floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I quietly make my way toward the kitchen.

I’m wearing nothing more than an oversize T-shirt and a pair of black panties, hardly expecting anyone else to be awake at one in the morning.

The apartment is almost completely dark. Only the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows paint pale ribbons across the marble countertops.

I don’t bother turning on a light. I’ve lived here long enough to know exactly where everything is.

I reach into the cabinet for a glass.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

The familiar deep voice comes from somewhere behind me.

A startled gasp escapes me before I can stop it. My hand flies to my chest as I spin around.

“Dean!” My heart pounds so hard that it actually hurts. “You scared me.”

He steps out from the shadows near the windows, a bottle of water dangling loosely from one hand. “I can see that.”

Even in the darkness, I can make out the tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen from him in weeks.

“I thought everyone was asleep,” I answer with a whisper.

“So did I.”

For a long moment, neither of us says anything. The silence doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It feels expectant, like we’re both standing on the edge of something neither of us completely understands.

“I tried to sleep,” I finally admit.

“Same,” he says, sounding resigned.

I pour myself a glass of water, mostly because I need something to do with my hands.

The cool glass feels steady, but I don’t.

“You and Sydney looked like you had fun tonight.”

I glance over at him. “We did.”

“I noticed.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes warmth spread through my chest.