21
“Phoenix,” she said without knowing how long they’d been lying there in silence. When he didn’t respond, Shyla rolled onto her side, propping her head on her fist. “Are you mad?”
“Mad?” he asked, his attention snapping around to hers.
She laid a hand on his torso. “Happy? Sad? What do you feel?”
“What do you feel?”
His deflection was unexpected, though it shouldn’t have been. More than once he’d told her that the night was about her. Still, his reluctance to answer didn’t fill her with confidence. But, in truth, Shyla was too energized to feel negative about anything.
Despite the ache in her muscles, she leaped over to straddle him, flattening both hands on his chest. “I’m ecstatic!” He caught the curtain of her hair to sweep it back over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you did t
