Maybe it’s the dress.
Maybe it’s the way the lamp light paints his throat in gold, making me think of what that skin tastes of.
I take a sip. Too big of one.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I just… needed a night out.”
He studies me for a long moment, and the teasing fades.
“You looked like you needed it,” he says quietly. “Been runnin’ yourself ragged between the kitchen and Sadie and trying to handle every damn feeling alone.”
My shoulders stiffen. “I don’t?—”
He cuts me off gently. “Delaney. It’s me. I see you.”
And I hate how easy it is to believe that.
I look at my hands, twisting the glass. “It’s just been a rough week.”
“Because of Caleb?”
I flinch.
He notices. Of course he does.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” he says softly, leaning slightly closer. “Just sayin’ you can talk to me if you want.”
I shake my head quickly. “It’s nothing like that. Not really. I just… messed things up with him a little. Or he thinks he messed things up with me. I don’t know.”
Silas hums. “Caleb worries too much. Feels too much. But he always means well.”
“I know.”
“And Boone?—”
“Silas.” My voice sharpens before I can pull it back.
Silas lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’ll shut up.”
But everything has shifted. I can feel his gaze tipping toward hunger.
And I feel myself tipping too.
Which is stupid.
And dangerous.
And exactly what I should not be doing.
He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from my cheek. His knuckles graze my skin, feather light, warm enough to make my breath catch.
“You look so damn beautiful tonight,” he says quietly. “Can’t stop staring at you.”
“Silas…”
“Yeah?”
