Declan flinches back another step when Gansey advances one, but he hasn't been looking where he's going. Gansey's bed hits his calves and he sits down hard on the edge. The liquor in the glass he's still holding sloshes with the sudden movement, wetting his fingers, and he knocks it back so that the scotch won't be risked and lost.

Then he lets it fall from his fingers, knowing that there's a risk the glass will shatter when it hits the floor. It's a heavy glass and the distance from his fingertips to floor is only two feet. He does it without thinking, and yet a part of him knows the roll of the dice that he's making. If the glass smashes, he'll get up and leave Gansey with the ruins. See what happens when you take risks?

It hits with a thud, rolling onto its side and dripping a faint trickle of liquor across the floor. Declan's eyes remain on Gansey, still that sharp-edged guard in his gaze, and yet he knows from the sound what his gambit has decided.

Lifting his wet fingers to his lips, he lets the edge in his gaze soften into a hooded challenge, almost a hint of seduction. Holding Gansey's eyes, he licks the stray droplets from each finger in turn.