A thrill shoots through me so fast I nearly gasp. My skin prickles. My cock stirs. I shift again, this time just to chase the pulse of heat low in my stomach.
“Promise?” I ask, voice pitched low. Breathless.
His gaze darkens. “Eat your breakfast.”
I pick up my fork again—but my heart’s pounding now, and I can barely taste a single bite.
Because holy fuck.
He means it.
I grin around my last bite of omelet, smug and aching with anticipation. Silas doesn’t say a word. He just… sets his plate on the coffee table. Slowly. Methodically. Without taking his eyes off me.
My pulse skitters.
Then he reaches for mine, fingers brushing mine as he lifts the empty plate from my lap and adds it next to his. Still quiet. Still watching me like he’s cataloging every twitch, every inhale.
I blink.
“Uh—”
He lunges.
I yelp as I’m tackled flat onto the couch, the breath knocked out of me as Silas straddles my hips and pins my wrists above my head with one hand.
“You little gremlin,” he growls, lips twitching. “You really thought you could tease me and get away with it?”
“Technically,” I pant, squirming beneath him, “I didn’t say anything inappropriate. I just used my foot?—”
His free hand dives for my ribs, and I shriek, full-on shriek, as he starts tickling me mercilessly.
“Silas—Silas, no, wait—” I gasp between laughs, writhing under him, squirming against the solid line of his body. “You’re gonna regret—fuck—this!”
He doesn’t stop. If anything, he leans in harder, shifting his grip to hold me down while his fingers find the most unfair, evil spots just beneath my arms. I’m breathless. Half-laughing, half-pleading. And so, so hard it’s almost painful.
So is he.
We both freeze for a second, caught in the tension that slams between us—his body flush against mine, hips caging me in, breathing ragged and shallow.
His eyes drop to my mouth.
I lick my lips.
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he mutters.
“And yet,” I whisper, grinning up at him, “you’re still on top of me.”
He groans, his mouth finding mine.
His mouth crashes down on mine, hot and hungry, all the teasing stripped away in one devastating kiss. His grip loosens just enough for me to tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, until I’m drowning in him—his scent, his heat, the way he tastes like coffee and something addictive.
I gasp when he shifts, grinding against me, and it’s not playful anymore. It’s desperate. Greedy.
“God, Luke,” he pants between kisses. “You make it so fucking hard to behave.”
“Then don’t,” I breathe, biting his bottom lip just enough to make him growl. “I don’t want you to behave.”
“You start something now,” he growls, mouth hot against my neck, “you better be sure you can take it.”
