I sat up quickly, putting space between us at last, my heart still racing far more than I liked.
He stared at me for a while and something flickered in his eyes. Fear or pity… I could not really tell.
I looked away from him, staring at anything in the room to distract myself, before I forced my gaze back to him.
"What?" I snapped when he would not stop staring.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, almost thoughtfully, his gaze dipped to my mouth, lingering there as he spoke.
"Your mouth," he said quietly, his voice laced with that infuriating amusement, "is particularly sharp tonight."
My breath caught in my throat at both his words and the weight of his gaze. I looked away, only to find myself drawn back to him again. He was hard not to look at… harder still not to respond to. And worse than that was the part of me that did not want to stop.
