She pushes on my shoulder, and I roll to my side, thinking that finally one of us has the sense to suggest we leave, but then she presses me back and straddles me. I groan, the sight of her above me taking me back to the first night that we took things a step further. She’s nothing if not determined, and with just our hands and mouths, that night was the best sex of my life, even without the sex.

Her hips circle above me, and in that purple dress and tights, I know she can feel me straining against my jeans. She rubs herself against me and I gasp, “Fuck, Dallas.” I want to get her out of here right now, but I can’t seem to get anything but those two words out of my mouth.

I’m squinting up at her, wanting to close my eyes, but unable to stop watching her. She reaches for the hem of her dress and pulls it up and over her head, baring her slim waist and a black bra.

Fuck. This has gone too far.

“Dallas.” I sit up and her hand darts to the hem of my shirt, tugging it up. I push her hands away. “Dallas, stop. Not here. I won’t be able to stop.”

“So don’t.”

She reaches behind her for the clasp of her bra, a line we haven’t even crossed back at my place, and I seize her hands to stop her.

“Dallas, why don’t we just go back to my place?”

She slips her hands out from under mine, leaving mine against her back. She runs her hands up my arms to my shoulders and rocks her hips into mine.

“Please,” she murmurs, diving down to drag her lips across my neck.

“Please what?”

She grasps one of my forearms, pulling my hand off her back and guiding it to her breast. She closes her mouth over mine, rocking harder against my dick, and whispers again, “Please?”

I break away, groaning, capturing her shoulders in an attempt to hold her still. “I don’t get what is happening here, babe. Just tell me what’s going on.”

She makes a small cry of frustration and tries to kiss me again, but I’ve got her held tight.

“This is what you want. It’s what I want.”

“This is not what I want, Daredevil.”

She jerks in my arms, and I can’t tell whether she’s trying to get closer or pull away. “Please. Just help me,” she demands.

“Help how?”

Her fingernails dig into my shoulders, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Not at all.

“Fix me,” she whispers.

“Baby . . .” I release her shoulders to cup her face, and her hands go back to wandering along my chest, but I can tell she isn’t even really feeling it. I shake her, just enough that she stops for a second and looks at me. “You are not broken. And even if you were, this would not be the way to fix it.”

She starts to cry, and it’s just like her laugh—silent, only her expression doing the work. Her lips tremble and tears crawl down her cheeks. I press my face close to hers, forehead to forehead, so that I can feel some of her tears against my own skin.

“I want you, Dallas. I have since the moment I met you. And when you’re actually ready, I won’t waste one moment before I take you to bed. But you’re more than this. We’re more than this.”

She collapses into my arms, crying, and it’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from her. In fact, other than her dance and the emotion that I see in her gaze when she looks at me, I’ve only ever really seen anger from her. Nothing like this.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. This was stupid. I just . . .” Her chest shakes as she struggles to breathe. “I thought this would help.”

“Help what?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing that makes you feel like this is stupid.”

She scrambles back off of me, grabs her dress, and bolts for the door. As soon as she has the dress over her head and chest, she pulls open the door, still tugging the dress back into place. I tear after her, catching her just before she hits the top of the stairs.

“What the hell, Dallas? Talk to me.”

“I can’t. I just need to be alone for a little while. We can talk later.”

“No.” I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her so close that our lips would touch if she just tilted her head up. “You promised me you wouldn’t run. Not without an explanation.”

“Carson, please just don’t.”

Her expression is angry, but her voice just sounds sad.

“No. I am not letting you walk away from me.”

“Maybe you should let her walk away, man.”

I jerk back to see Ryan at the foot of the stairs. Stella and Silas are beside him, and the three of them are doing their best to block us from the dozen or so people behind them, craning their necks to see what’s going on.

“Shit.”

I let go of her, even though I don’t want to. I look down and see that her dress is stuck up over one hip. You can’t see anything because of her tights, but I reach out and tug her dress back into place anyway. I hate that people have already seen us arguing, but I sure as hell don’t want them to see any more.

I step back, but I keep my eyes fixed on hers. “You promised. You have to talk to me.”

Her voice is small and her eyes wide. “I will. Tomorrow.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and watch, aching, as she flees down the stairs. Ryan and Stella walk in front of her, pushing their way through the people, and when they move out of my line of sight, I collapse against the wall and slide down to the floor.

I don’t know how much time passes before Silas grips my elbow and pulls me up. “Come on, man. Just go home and sleep it off. Whatever it is, isn’t helped by sitting up here. Plus, you’ve got fangirls at the bottom of the stairs planning how to fix your broken heart.”

That pulls me out of my funk, and sure enough, he’s right. There’s a group of girls not-so-casually hanging out at the bottom of the stairs. I turn my back on them and scrub my hand over my face.

“I just don’t know what happened. We were fine and then . . .” I don’t say any more, knowing Dallas wouldn’t want me to. But everything just happened so damn fast, my head is still spinning.

Silas holds up his hands. “There are plenty of things I know about women, but how to deal with an angry one is not in my skill set.”

The thing is . . . I don’t know if she was angry. I don’t know anything