"Yes," he admits, but it's barely audible.
Heat explodes between us.
He doesn't look away from the lace.
Relief hits me. I smile and restate, "I made it for you."
Fire explodes in his eyes, hungry, desperate, and just as chaotic as I've felt all week.
Euphoria hits me harder. For the first time since Sunday, I know I've stepped somewhere he can't ignore.
He'll never unsee me in this, whether I'm wearing it or not.
I reach over and flip the hourglass on his shelf, watching the sand drop grain by grain, toward the moment he finally realizes that he isn't in control.
I am.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Red
Blue flips the hourglass again, and I watch the vibrant sand cascade downward in a slow, hypnotic stream. Her smile is triumphant. She thinks she's won something, but she hasn't.
She's losing control.
Fast.
I step away and create distance from her, the hourglass, and all the things I should've had the foresight to be prepared for before she walked into this room today.
I state, "Blue, let's sit down." I point to her chair.
She doesn't move, staking a claim behind my desk. Her pupils are blown wide, shining like someone set a light behind them. She's trembling with a conviction that I'm her new man to obsess over.
Fuck.
She softly says, "I didn't do anything wrong. I just showed you what I made."
"It's not about wrong. It's about safety." I gesture toward the chair across from mine again.
A sharp, bright, too loud for my small office, laugh comes out of her. "Safety? You think I'm unsafe? I made you lingerie, Red. Not a bomb."
The wordbombhits too close to the truth. Her mood is volatile, and her perception of reality is thinning.
I lower my voice. "I'm asking you again. Please sit."
Something in my tone reaches her. She sits quickly, but it's too trusting and unguarded.
All the clinical signs she's having a manic episode scream at me. So I move my chair to face her more directly. I keep my hands visible, grounded on my knees.
"Blue, I need your full honesty. When was the last time you slept?"
She shrugs. "Sunday. I've been working. It's not a big deal. I don't need that much sleep."
"Everyone needs sleep," I say softly.
"I don't. At least not now. I can later," she declares in a bright, confident, certain way that terrifies me.
"Does this happen a lot?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
