His hands settle on my hips, warm and confident, like this is all he’s wanted. My thighs bracket his, and I’m acutely aware of how little I’m wearing. Of how much of me is exposed. Offered.
“Silas…”
His hands slide beneath the fabric of the oversized t-shirt, fingers skimming the curve of my waist at a leisurely pace, working his way up an inch before stroking his way back down.
“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “Asking questions and pushing like you already knew what we were going to say. Smiling like you don’t realize what it does to us. Wearing my brother’s shirt like you’re already ours.”
His fingers slide higher, teasing the curve of my breasts. “You want to be, don’t you?”
My hips shift, a barely there motion that lights us both on fire. His hands still immediately, our eyes locking in this stand-off we seem to enjoy. The secretive versus the observant…
There’s nothing calm in Silas now. Nothing controlled. He looks like a man standing on the edge of something permanent, and the realization hits me all at once.
I’m not pushing him toward it, but I am inviting him.
I lean in, lips brushing his jaw. “Do something about it.”
His grip tightens around my ribs as he drags me closer, leaving no space between us. No room for second guesses. Nowhere to run.
His mouth finds mine, demanding that I open for him.
And when I do…
Restraint is the first thing to go up in flames.
Silas kicks the door shut behind us, like he has nowhere better to be than right here with me in his arms. The sound is thunderous and final, echoing through my entire being. He doesn’t release his grip on my ass; if anything, he digs his fingers into my flesh with palpable desperation.
My legs wind tighter around his waist, my hands tangling in his hair. Firm muscle flexes beneath my thighs, my breath already uneven from the way his body moves against mine.
Clothed.
We’re still clothed, and he’s lighting me on fire.
Silas rips my legs from his waist, dropping me onto his bed without warning. The mattress dips hard enough to knock the air from my lungs, but he’s already pulling away, taking my shirt with him in one smooth, decisive motion. The fabric slides up and over my arms, gone before I can even protest.
His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate, a physical touch that leaves me craving his hands on my skin.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he mentions in a whisper, not wanting to break this spell we’re under. “You know that, right?”
I push myself up on my elbows, pulse thudding, mouth curling into a wicked grin I don’t bother hiding. “So play it with me.”
“Treacherous,” he mutters, shaking his head as something dark flickers across his expression. “You are reckless.”
“And you like it.”
Silas exhales slowly, controlled, but just barely. It’s all an act, though. I witness him fighting with his restraint as he reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it off, only briefly breaking eye contact. The movement is unhurried, intentional, like he knows exactly what it does to me and plans to let it sink in.
I scoot up the bed, just enough to challenge him, my smile all teeth and trouble. “What are you waiting for?”
Silas smirks as his hand snaps out. His fingers lock firmly around my ankle, and before I can react, he drags me back down the mattress until I’m right at the edge. A surprised laugh tears out of me, sudden and breathless, my heart galloping.
“Careful,” he murmurs, stepping in close, looming over me. “You keep forgetting who you’re provoking.”
“I didn’t forget,” I say, breath shaky but steady enough to get the taunt out. “I just haven’t had enough lessons to remember properly.”
“Oh?” he hums, his thumb brushing over my skin in a teasing promise as he steps between my legs. “Do you intend to continue provoking me after you learn?”
Silas’s voice is low enough to feel, and the look in his eyes tells me he’s done pretending this is a game. He straightens slowly, as if he’s giving me time to change my mind.
