“Are you okay?” I asked him softly.
He worked his jaw, clenched the muscles, then gave me the same bullshit smile he’d given his friend. “I’m fine, Marshall. Thank you.”
I leaned in close, my next words meant only for him. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Why do you care?” He gave me another saccharine smile, then turned his attention over my shoulder to his friend. “I’m ready.”
I wasn’t in a position to argue with him. Silas wasn’t my submissive, and he wasn’t my concern. He’d used me for comfort, which I’d given willingly. I would have done it a thousand times over, but being discarded after his friend’s return had me feeling more used than I could ever remember. So much of my private life was transactional. Sometimes there was money exchanged; sometimes it was just an agreement between two willing parties. I was used to things that didn’t last, and yet…
“Thank you,” Silas said again, and I looked at him, maybe seeing him for the first time.
He was a man trying so hard to stand on his own in all of the ways that counted most to him, and unfortunately that meant standing away from me. I wasn’t ready, though. Iwanted. And I lifted my hand slowly between us so he could see what I was asking for. He didn’t move away, didn’t shake his head, didn’t falter. Brushing my fingertips across his warm, pink cheekbone, I committed to memory the way his pupils dilated, the way his lashes fluttered.
Shoving my hand into the pocket of my slacks, I cleared my throat and took a step away. Cool air rushed between us, and we were both awake. The tender moments between us broken. Gone.
“It was my honor, Silas,” I told him quietly, more words meant just for his ears.
He bit his lower lip, dragged his stare away from mine, then he walked out.
CHAPTER 7
SILAS
Idid not go to bed with Lincoln when we got home from Rapture. He barely said another word to me, save to check if I was okay, before walking me straight to my own bed and tucking me in. I tossed and turned for an hour before kicking off the blankets and stalking down the hallway to his room. He was also awake, and he lifted the covers for me without argument. Sleep came quickly after that for the both of us, Lincoln’s arm wrapped protectively around my chest.
I woke hours later, still in his bed, but alone.
Closing my eyes, I covered my face with both of my hands, annoyed at how prevalent Marshall Covington’s face was on the backs of my eyelids.
Last night when he’d asked me if I was okay and I said yes, it was a lie. But in the morning light, it felt a little more true. Partially thanks to the way he’d sat with me and comforted me after doing whatever he’d done with?—
Shit.
I’d never even gotten that other man’s name, and I was about to let him strap me to a bench with my pants around my ankles.
God, I was a fucking idiot.
A fucking idiot who needed a whole pot of coffee to recover from the embarrassment of the night before. It was one thing to make a bad call with a prospective sexual partner in the privacy of your own home. It was another entirely to do it in public…in front of my father’s business rival.
“I hear you rustling!” Lincoln shouted from the kitchen, which meant there was coffee ready for me and maybe even breakfast.
I climbed out of bed and shuffled down the hallway, rubbing sleep out of my eyes as I stumbled into the kitchen. Lincoln shoved a mug of coffee across the counter and into my waiting hands.
“I’m glad you’re speaking to me again,” I said, raising the mug to my mouth.
He gave me an unamused look. “I don’t even know why you’re speaking tome.”
“Because you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I found him,” Lincoln protested.
“I don’t want to do this with you again.” I sighed, taking my coffee to the couch. “I smell the bacon, so bring some with you.”
Lincoln grumbled under his breath but joined me on the couch with his own coffee and a plate of bacon that he dropped unceremoniously onto my thigh. I picked a strip up and chomped down on a fatty end piece.
