“Is that what we're calling it?” Cole spins a knife between his fingers, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like foreplay.”
“Shut up, Cole.” Silas strips off his white shirt, revealing the lean muscle underneath. Sweat gleams on his chest, and Iforce myself to look away before I do something stupid. Like remember how it felt when his hands found my hair during the act. How his fingers tangled in the strands while I picked his locks, his body heat bleeding through the thin fabric of my corset.
“Just saying,” Cole continues, flipping the knife in a lazy arc. “If you two need a private moment to work out all that tension?—”
The door bangs open, cutting him off.
Jules bursts in like she's being chased, her dark eyes scanning the room until they land on Elias. He's still wearing his ringmaster coat, but she doesn't give him time to take it off.
She launches herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, legs around his waist. Her mouth crashes against his with a hunger that makes my cheeks burn.
“Fucking hell,” Logan mutters, but he's grinning. “Here we go.”
“Show got you worked up, Little Sapphire?” Elias's voice is rough against her lips, his hands already gripping her ass.
“You know what it does to me,” Jules breathes, grinding against him. “Watching you command that crowd. Watching you own that stage.”
“Christ,” Jonah says quietly. “Not again.”
But Elias is already moving, carrying Jules toward the door while they devour each other. Her fingers work at the buttons of his coat, desperate to get underneath the fabric. His teeth find her neck, and she makes a sound that's part moan, part plea.
“Get a room,” Silas calls after them.
“Getting one,” Elias replies without breaking away from Jules's mouth. “Try not to burn the place down while I'm gone.”
The door slams behind them, and the sudden quiet feels almost oppressive.
“Every damn show,” Marek says softly, his pale eyes amused. “Like clockwork.”
“Can't blame him,” Cole shrugs, cleaning his blade with a cloth. “She does look particularly edible tonight.”
“You need to get laid,” Logan tells him, a wicked grin on his face.
The brothers begin dispersing slowly. Rowe heads for the back exit—probably to check on his animals. Marek drifts out, humming as he shuffles his cards. Logan and Jonah wander off together, muttering about something to do with fire safety.
Cole lingers long enough to shoot me one last grin. “Welcome to the family, Red. Try not to let our boy here corrupt you too much your first week.”
Then it's just Silas and me.
The silence stretches between us, heavy with the tension that we didn’t leave on the stage. The way he touched me. The way I let him. The way the crowd disappeared until it felt like we were performing just for each other.
“So.” He turns to face me, and I catch my breath at the intensity in his expression. “How'd that feel?”
“The performance?” I busy myself organizing my lock picks, anything to avoid looking directly at him. “It went well. Good crowd response.”
“That's not what I meant.”
His voice is lower now, rougher. I look up and find him watching me with predatory focus. He's still shirtless, lean muscle shifting under ink as he moves closer.
“The way you moved out there,” he continues, closing the distance between us. “Like the chains were part of you. Like you were made to be bound.”
My pulse quickens. “It's just an act, Silas.”
“Is it?” He stops directly in front of me, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixed with sweat from the performance. “Because when I had my hands in your hair, when you werepressed against me picking those locks... that didn't feel like acting.”
The memory sends a rush of heat through me. The way his fingers tangled in my hair, dominant and demanding. The way his body radiated heat and danger while I worked.
“You're imagining things.” But my voice comes out breathier than intended.
