He wanted to lose control, but not here. Not yet.
Instead, he adjusted her blouse, smoothed her hair, and kissed the tip of her nose in a moment so startlingly gentle it shattered the tension for just a heartbeat.
Then he stood with her still in his arms, set her carefully on her feet, and walked past her to the door.
As he opened it, he muttered without turning, "Fix your lipstick."
The door clicked open, but he didn't leave. He lingered there, silent, a wall of heat and control in the narrow space behind her. She could feel his gaze on her back, unmoving, and unreadable.
He didn't say another word. Just stepped back, letting her fix her lipstick in the glass panel of a cabinet. She did it with shaky hands, refusing to meet his eyes in the reflection.
