The moment she nodded, Hoyt felt a surge of triumph so intense it was almost physical. But his face remained a mask of grim duty. He couldn't let her see the predator. Not yet.

Jordyn closed her eyes. She couldn't watch. She tilted her chin up slightly, her lips parted, her body rigid with tension. She was offering herself up, waiting for the blow.

She waited for the press of his lips. The invasion. The kiss that would seal this strange bargain.

It didn't come.

Instead, she felt a feather-light touch on her mouth. Hoyt's thumb brushed across her lower lip, slowly, deliberately. The pad of his finger was warm, slightly calloused, and the sensation it sparked was nothing like she had imagined.

It wasn't an invasion. It was a caress. A slow, melting heat that spread from her lips down to her toes.

Jordyn's eyes flew open.

He was looking at her. His gray eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide, but his expression was one of absolute control. There was no lust on his face. Only a gentle, almost paternal restraint.

To kiss you now would be too easy, he thought, his thumb lingering on the soft curve of her lip. It would be taking. I want you to give. I want you to beg for it. This... this is enough to make you doubt everything.

"That's enough," he said, his voice a low, rough rasp. "From a distance, this looks intimate. It looks... convincing."

He pulled his hand back, breaking the contact. The air between them suddenly felt cold.

Jordyn stared at him, her mind blank. Then, a wave of shame and gratitude crashed over her, so powerful it made her dizzy.

She had thought he was going to kiss her. She had thought he was going to take advantage of the situation, of her. But he hadn't. He had stopped. He had been the perfect gentleman.

He was exactly what he appeared to be. A good man. A decent man.

Look at her, Hoyt thought, watching the emotions play across her face. She thinks I'm a saint. She has no idea I'm imagining what it would feel like to devour her whole.

His hand was still tingling from the contact. The softness of her lip was burned into his skin. He shoved his hand deep into his pocket, his fingers curling into a tight fist, his nails biting into his palm. The pain was a necessary distraction. It was the only thing keeping him from pulling her flush against him and taking what he wanted.

"Thank you," Jordyn whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for... for being so understanding."

"Call me Hoyt," he said.

It wasn't a request. It was a command, delivered with a gentle smile.

Jordyn blinked. "What?"

"'Mr. David' is too formal," he said, his tone light but firm. "After what we've just been through, I think we can drop that. I want to hear you say my name."

She hesitated. Calling him by his first name felt dangerous. It felt like crossing a line. But after what he had just done-after he had protected her and respected her-refusing seemed churlish.

"Okay," she said softly. "Hoyt."

The sound of his name on her lips sent a jolt of pure satisfaction through him. It was a small victory, but a crucial one. It was the first thread in the web.

He looked toward the door. "I think it worked. They're moving away."

Jordyn let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She believed him completely. She had no idea that she had just stepped deeper into the trap.

The tension in the small space eased, but Hoyt didn't move. He stayed right where he was, a solid, warm presence blocking her path to the door.

"Can we go now?" Jordyn asked, her voice still a little shaky. She was eager to escape the confines of the closet, the overwhelming proximity to him.

Hoyt shook his head slowly, his expression cautious. "Not yet. Gus isn't the type to give up easily. He might be waiting just out of sight."

I'm not letting you go that easily, he thought, his gaze sweeping over her face. Not when I finally have you exactly where I want you.

He softened his voice, letting a hint of warmth creep in. "Don't worry. You're safe here."

His voice was like a balm, smoothing over the raw edges of her panic. Jordyn felt herself nodding, her body unconsciously leaning a little closer to him.

Safe. It was a word she rarely felt. In the Shepard house, safety was an illusion, a thin veneer over a cauldron of criticism and control. But here, in this dark, dusty closet, with this man standing guard, she felt it.

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders dropping. The rigid fear that had been holding her upright melted away, leaving her feeling soft and pliable.

Hoyt watched the transformation with a hungry satisfaction. She was relaxing. She was letting him in. She was becoming his.

That's it, he thought, a dark thrill curling in his chest. Get used to me. Depend on me. Learn that you can't breathe without me.

He decided to push a little further. "How is Carleigh?" he asked, his tone conversational. "Is she still stressing over her senior showcase?"

The question caught Jordyn off guard. It was so normal, so mundane, compared to the life-or-death situation they had just been in. But it worked. It grounded her.

"She is," Jordyn said, a small smile touching her lips despite herself. "She changed her theme three times last week."

Hoyt listened as she talked about her best friend. He nodded at the right moments, asked the right questions, his eyes never leaving her face. He gave her his complete, undivided attention.

It was a heady feeling. Jordyn wasn't used to being listened to. She was used to being talked at, lectured, dismissed. But Hoyt made her feel like her words mattered. Like she mattered.

The minutes slipped by. The fear faded, replaced by a strange, comfortable intimacy. Jordyn forgot about the guards outside. She forgot about the cold wall at her back. She was lost in the sound of his voice, the warmth of his presence.

Seven years I watched you from a distance, Hoyt thought, his gaze tracing the curve of her cheek. Seven years I waited. And now you're finally here, talking to me like I'm the only man in the world.

He let the silence stretch for a moment longer, savoring the feeling of her dependence. Then he glanced at his watch, a subtle movement that broke the spell.

"I think the coast is clear," he said, his voice regretful. "They've probably moved on to the other terminals."

Jordyn blinked, startled. She looked around, as if she had forgotten where they were. A flush crept up her neck as she realized how long they had been standing there, how close they still were.

"I'm so sorry," she stammered, pushing herself away from the wall. "I didn't mean to keep you. I'm sure you have important things to do."

"Mr. Dav-" she caught herself, the old habit dying hard. "Hoyt. I'm sorry."

He smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat. "Don't apologize."

He took a step back, finally giving her the space she had been craving. But as the cool air rushed in between them, Jordyn felt a sudden, sharp pang of disappointment. A foolish, irrational wish that he hadn't moved at all.