“Thank you,” she says again as she unbuckles her seat belt. “Today was perfect.”
I kiss her forehead and watch her disappear into the building, waiting until her apartment light flicks on. Then I sit there, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to understand how I went from planning a simple day trip to realizing that what I want with Ivy Chandler is dangerous.
Extremely dangerous—to me.
15
IVY
Leaving the Socks on
Declan invited me over to his penthouse. And I’m nervous. Very.
Declan, on the other hand, is quiet confidence personified. The sight of him bustling around the kitchen has my nerves buzzing like exposed wires.
I hover near the island, hands fisting and unfisting at my sides.
He invited me over. To his place. Alone. In the evening. That has to mean something, right?
He’ll want to have sex with me tonight, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do or how I’m supposed to act.
Every time he gets too close, nervous energy skitters under my skin. Will he come on to me now? Will he kiss me first, or will hejust lead me to his bedroom and tell me to strip? Do I leave my socks on? What do I do with my hands?
I’m exhausted from wondering when the moment is supposed to happen—tired of feeling like there’s a test coming that I haven’t studied for.
Maybe if I just… get it over with, I can relax.
Stop overthinking. Stop flinching.
Declan glances over his shoulder. “You’re very quiet.”
“I’m fine,” I say too quickly.
He hums, unconvinced, and turns back to the stove. The domesticity of it—him cooking, swearing softly, completely at ease—makes my chest tighten. He looks like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing in every area of his life.
Including this one.
I step closer. Too close. My toe catches the edge of the rug, and I stumble just enough that my hand shoots out, landing flat against his back.
Solid. Warm.
He stills.
“Oh—sorry,” I blurt.
He turns, concern already in his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I say, then add—without any idea where the words come from—“You can kiss me if you want.”
The words hang between us.
Declan’s eyebrows lift. Not in alarm. Not in irritation. Just surprise, followed by a flicker of amusement—and then something more intent.
“I can?” he repeats slowly.
I nod, my heart hammering.
“Well,” he says mildly, making no move to do anything of the sort, “thank you for clarifying.”
