"I considered it."
"I know you did."
He nodded. Stiff. But his eyes. His eyes weren’t cold. They were moving over my face in the light, tracing something.
"You should get some rest," he said. But he didn’t step back. His body stayed exactly where it was, three feet from mine.
"You too."
Neither of us moved.
He took a step forward. Then another. My breath held as the distance between us shrank, his eyes on mine, gray and intense.
My pulse spiked, my tongue darted out, my stomach tightening as his eyes followed the movement. His nostrils flaring.
"Do you have any idea," his voice dropped low and rough, barely a breath between us, "what I want to do to your mouth right now?"
The words went through me like a current. I couldn’t move. He was close enough that I could feel the heat of him and his breath was warm on my face, his eyes were on my lips and I forgot my own name for a second.
"Jace…" I whispered the name. He blinked, and the trance broke. He stepped back.
"Goodnight," he said.
He turned to leave but halted, his back to me. "You should leave tomorrow morning. You’re driving me absolutely mad and I am running out of ways to manage it."
He started walking again. I don’t know what made me say it.
"Or what?" I challenged.
He stopped.
"Or what?" he repeated. He turned back. Slowly. Took a step toward me. Then another. His jaw had gone tight, his breathing uneven, and every measured thing about him was unraveling with each step he closed between us.
"You really want to know?" Barely a whisper.
"Yes."
He leaned in, his mouth near my ear. "I'm going to kiss you. And I'm not going to stop. Not until neither of us can think or breathe or remember why we were pretending this wasn't happening."
I wet my lips again. Instinct. Nerves. Both.
He groaned. Low. Coming deep in his chest. "Don’t do that."
"Do what?"
"That. Your lips. Don’t."
"Or what?"
His eyes closed. When they opened, the look in them made my stomach drop. Hunger. He looked at my mouth like he was deciding exactly how he’d take it apart.
"You’re doing this on purpose." His voice was sharper now.
"Doing what?"
"Existing." He breathed. "In that robe. In this hallway. Asking me or what like you don’t already know the answer. Like you haven’t known since the fitting room."
He swore and stepped back again, much to my disappointment.
