His gaze dropped to the shoe, then returned to my face.
“Try again.”
Heat climbed my neck.
I picked both shoes up, set them side by side near the chair, and straightened.
“Better.”
One word, and my body went loose at the edges.
Declan watched me take it in. He always watched like that, as if my reactions mattered more than his impatience.
“Color,” he said.
“Green.”
“Alcohol?”
“Two beers. Water after. I’m not drunk.”
“I believe you.” He came closer, stopping with enough space between us to make the restraint obvious. “Still, if I ask you the same question in ten minutes, I expect the same honesty.”
“You’ll get it.”
His eyes held mine. “No performing tonight. No guessing what I want and trying to become it.”
That landed harder than I expected.
I swallowed. “Okay.”
“You use red, everything stops. You use amber, we slow down and figure out why. No penalty for either.”
“I know.”
“Say it anyway.”
“No penalty.”
His voice lowered. “Good.”
The word traveled straight through me.
I wanted to touch him so badly my hands hurt. I kept them at my sides because he hadn’t said I could, and the simple act of waiting scraped every nerve raw in the best, worst way.
Declan saw that too.
“Come here.”
I took one step.
“Closer.”
Another.
When I was near enough to feel his body heat, he lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over my lower lip. Not much. Barely anything.
I shook.
