The train is crowded, the noise of chatter filling the air as you stand, feeling the slight shift with each movement. Dexter’s hand rests lightly on your waist, his warmth palpable. You catch his reflection in the window, his mischievous smirk and twinkling grey eyes meeting yours. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything,” he whispers, his voice calm but laced with amusement. His hand is light but deliberate, claiming the space between you as his smile deepens.