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Noah looks around the practically sterile space. “What dust?”

“What else could it be? Now, as I was saying, let’s return to the hotel, and we’ll sort all this out.”

We endup in Cassian’s room. It’s a suite, larger than the one Noah and I are sharing.

As soon as the door is closed and the four of us are alone, Cassian turns to Sophia. “You worked with Gerald, so you should know how to contact him.”

“Are we doing this right now?” she asks. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“If you don’t want to talk about that, then we can discuss something else.” Cassian turns on her, his jaw hard. “Why did you leave with Larissa? You took your pardon, and you ran.”

“Excuse me?” Sophia says sharply, pressing her hand to her chest like she’s offended. “I didn’trun. I wasabducted.”

Uh oh.

I glance at Noah, pretty sure he’s having the same thought as me. They’re about to have a lover’s quarrel, and neither of us wants to be here for it.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Noah touches my shoulder, edging toward the door. “Try not to kill each other before morning.”

We escape into the hall and make our way to the elevator. As soon as the doors close and we’re alone, I groan, resting my head back.

“Careful.” Noah steps in front of me and angles my head forward. “The pins are still in your hair.”

“Right.” My eyes move to his face. “Good news—we’re not dead.”

“Another successful day on the job.”

Noah’s eyes move to my lips. I make a noise of contentment when he drops a brief kiss to my mouth.

“No moaning,” he murmurs, moving his hands to my bare shoulders. “I’m barely controlling myself. Your dress has been driving me crazy all night.”

“That was a sigh, not a moan,” I correct, wrapping my arms around his neck and standing on my tiptoes to reach him better. “Get your noises straight.”

A roguish glint sparkles in his eyes. “Why don’t you show me a moan so I can tell the difference?”

A delicious shiver travels through my body, and I kiss his smirking mouth, happy to finally have him alone.

The elevator comes to a stop, and the door opens with a cheerful ding. We reluctantly break apart.

I idly play with one of my dress straps while Noah digs through his wallet for the key and then lets us in.

I step inside, and it’s cold. Blissfully cold.

“I think they fixed the thermostat,” I say.

“Looks like it.” He turns to face me, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets.

He wants to touch me.

I want to touch him.

The line we said we wouldn’t cross is growing fainter each day. If Noah weren’t stubbornly loyal to his promise, the line would probably be gone. It’s like a challenge now—a test of strength.

He’s doing better than I am, but we’re not going to last much longer in this romantic, private hotel room.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” I tell him after I grab a change of clothes. “I’ll be out in a bit.”

He nods, turning toward his suitcase.