“Practice,” I repeat faintly.
He nods like this makes perfect sense. “A month. We go out. We talk. You build confidence.” His voice drops as he steps closer. “Then you’ll be the best version of yourself for your mystery man.”
My pulse stutters.
“You mean… King,” I say.
“Yeah.” His mouth curves. “King.”
My brain latches onto the idea before I can stop it. Practice. All the things I feel behind on—how to flirt, how to act on a date, how to kiss. How to do other things.
I don’t say any of that out loud.
“And what do you get out of this?” I ask, folding my arms like that might steady me.
He doesn’t hesitate. That alone throws me.
“I get you,” he says simply. “Because I’m attracted to you. And I won’t pretend I’m not.”
My stomach flips, annoying and traitorous.
“I get the chance to explore this,” he continues, gesturing between us. “I’ve never been this intrigued by a woman. I want to know what this is. To know you. But there’s no pressure. No expectations.”
I swallow. “And after the month?”
“Then we decide,” he says. “If we want more—or if we don’t. Either way, we walk away clean.”
“And if King wants to meet me before the month is over?” I whisper.
Declan doesn’t hesitate. “Then we end it.”
"That's insane." My lips tilt upward, body thrumming with need.
"Or it's practical." His hand brushes mine, sending electricity up my spine. "You want experience. I can give you that."
"I never told you I want experience."
"Then consider it research."
"Research?" My voice comes out squeaky.
"Why not? You're a scientist. Test the hypothesis to see what happens when you let yourself want something dangerous instead of something safe."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "That's a terrible idea.'
"Probably." His lips curve upward, eyes brightening. "But you're considering it."
I am. Damn all the consequences, I am. My eyes land on those lips, wishing they'll take a second to graze mine.
"I'll think about it," I whisper.
He steps closer, his face bending toward mine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, can smell his cologne mixing with the wine on his breath.
"That's all I'm asking, Ivy," he whispers in my ear. "And for this one month of practice dating, I'll be the luckiest bastard alive."
I freeze. His lips are a hair's breadth away. All he has to do is move them close to mine, and I'll kiss him. My eyes track those soft lips as they move from my ear to my cheek without touching my skin. When they get close to my mouth, I move closer. Declan takes in a ragged breath and pulls away.
Leaving me wanting.
