He glanced up at me, tired. “It didn’t really come up, Marshall. I didn’t think we had that kind of relationship.”
“No.” I shook my head, gesturing for him to follow me toward the kitchen. “You’re right. I just?—”
He snorted. “Are you worried now?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
I wanted Silas to see how good he was at his job, how smart he was. Even if I wasn’t sleeping with him, going against him for a competitive bid would have been a lot more work than going head-to-head with his father.
He bumped his shoulder against mine before climbing onto one of my barstools and letting the counter support his weight. “You’re safe. I haven’t been taking it seriously.”
“Why not?”
“He said if I redrafted it, he would look at it, not that we would use it. And he thinks my ideas are too revolutionary. I don’t see there being any world where he actually takes my work seriously.”
“You should come work for me,” I blurted, which earned me a wide-eyed look of shock from an otherwise weary-looking man. “Or not.”
“That feels like a gross misuse of power at this point.”
“How so?”
“You’d be my boss?” He said it like a question. “But you’d also be my Dom and my…boyfriend?” The last word caught in his throat. “All three seem overwhelming when you put them together.”
“But you can take the last two on their own?”
Silas’s cheeks burned a very pretty shade of pink, and he looked far less tired than he had when he’d arrived, but he didn’t give me a verbal reply.
“You’re wound tight as a bowstring, Silas. Do you want me to help you relax before we eat? Before we talk?” I tapped my thumb against my forefinger, hovering near him and hating how much the anticipation had me feeling like a snake ready to strike.
“I don’t even know,” he grumbled, scrubbing both hands down his face.
“What do you want?” I asked. “What do youneed?”
Silas clenched his jaw down hard, and he banged his elbow onto the counter, catching his chin in his hands like he needed the help to stay upright. He threw a look up at me from beneath the fan of his dark lashes.
“You tell me,” he muttered. “You choose.”
The decision was right there on the tip of my tongue. It was so very close, and I knew it would solve his problem. It would bring the relief he needed, but if I’d learned anything…if he had learned anything, it was that negotiations had to happen with a clear head.
“I wish I could, but we’re not there yet, sweetheart. I can’t make those decisions for you until we’ve already set the ground rules.”
He made the unhappiest noise, and I kicked the stool around so we faced each other, then I wrapped my arms around him and let him rest his head against my chest. I could give him this, for now. Gingerly, I stroked my hands down Silas’s back, breathing heavily as he exhaled against me.
“I know,” he reluctantly agreed, nodding his forehead against my sternum.
I bent down to kiss the top of his head, inhaling the scent of tangerines.
“Let’s eat, and then we’ll talk, and then we’ll see where the night takes us.”
At the promise of the last part, Silas groaned, and I had to put space between us because the rumble of his need rattled me down to my bones.
“What’s for dinner?”
Instead of telling him, I went to the fridge and decided to show him. Earlier I’d made a chicken salad and a caprese plate, which felt like a nice enough meal without trying too hard. I didn’t know where we’d end the evening and didn’t want either of us to eat anything too heavy. Silas leaned forward and peered down into the salad bowl.
“Did you make this?”
“Why? Is something wrong with it?” I looked down at the salad, the shredded cheese on top, the croutons, the crisp lettuce.
