My eyebrows shot to the top of my head. “Husband?” I teased softly, tapping his broad chest. “Since when? Did I sign a certificate I don’t remember?”
Silas didn’t back down. He glared at me, jaw tight, looking feral, exhausted, and completely done with hiding in the shadows.
“Don’t fucking worry about it,” he grunted without missing a single beat. His head turned sharply toward Lena, who was sitting on the floor pretending to read her Kindle. “Lena.”
She jumped even though we all knew she was doing a horrible job at not listening. “Yeah?”
Si pointed a stern finger at her. “Cover your ears and your eyes. Do not look this way. Pretend you’re dead.”
She groaned, burying her face deep into the pillow resting on her lap. “I hate it here. I hate you both. Dad titles are getting revoked.”
Silas didn’t wait, he fisted the front of my shirt and dragged me toward the bathroom.
“Silas.” I laughed loudly, stumbling after him.
He shoved me backward into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind us, locking it in one smooth, aggressive motion. Without missing a step, he reached into the shower stall and cranked the handle, turning it to full blast. The tiled room instantly filled with the hiss of the water, and the rising, misty steam.
“You’re traumatizing our ‘child’,” I warned, backing up until my hips hit the cold marble vanity. “Turning on the shower? That’s a little cliché.”
“I don’t care about clichés,” Silas growled as he pinned me tightly against the counter with his chest flush against mine. “I care that I haven’t touched you in days, and you’re now making jokes about threesomes.”
His lips hit mine with a ferocity that exploded out of him. It wasn’t a sweet, romantic reunion. No, my man wasstarving. This was a shutdown in its rawestform. It was Silas violently reclaiming his territory, even though there was no need. Our exchange was frantic and bruising. Bitten lips and rough fingers that moved with need. I melted into it, my sarcastic armor evaporating instantly. This was what I wanted. Him unhinged, and the script written for our lives forgotten.
“You’re unbelievable,” I mumbled against his mouth while my hands desperately gripped his thick hair. “You broke the lockdown for this? Dry humping in a hotel bathroom?”
“I’d break out of Alcatraz for this.”
Silas pressed his hips against mine, and I could feel how hard he was behind his jeans. It damn near pulled a whine from my throat, and I don’t think I truly knew how badly I wanted him until now. Feeling him only through thick barriers of denim was a sick kind of torture. And I believe he felt the same. In fact, I know he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have come here. He wouldn’t have broken kayfabe just to protect and claim his territory. Silas owned me. Mind, body, and soul.
“No making babies in there!” Lena yelled over the roar of the running water. “We have a schedule this weekend!”
We both froze. All grinding stopped, the fiery moment dying an agonizing death.
Silas pulled back slowly, his lips swollen, hair wild and damp from the steam. “Um…” Silas shouted back at the wooden door, his voice entirely deadpan. “Lena…”
I let out a faint, breathless laugh as I shook my head. “That is physically impossible, kid.”
“I don’t care! Keep it PG, or I’m calling Evan!”
Silas rested his forehead against mine, closing his eyes in defeat. A small, exhausted laugh escaped his lips before he whispered, “Your roommate is annoying.”
“I know.” I grinned, tilting my head to press a kiss to his sharp jaw. “Now turn off the damn water before you flood the place.”
2
FRIDAY, AUGUST — SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO
Now playing: Agora Hills - Doja Cat
Fridaymorningwasasuffocating media circus.
The UWF had taken over the entire ground floor of the resort, converting the ballrooms into a labyrinth of press tables, ring lights, and step-and-repeats. My media block wasn’t for another hour, so I stood off to the side of the main stage, arms crossed over my tailored suit as I watched Silas’s interview.A reporter from a sports outlet stood up. “Silas, you’ve mentioned briefly in past interviews that your mother was from Puerto Rico. Coming into Heatwave as the number one contender, what does it mean for you to compete in the World Heavyweight Championship here on the island?”
Silas’s jaw tightened, but with sincerity running through his chocolate eyes, he leaned into the mic. “It’s surreal,” he answered with a heavy, quiet vulnerability. “I was actually here once before, in my early twenties. But I didn’t take the time to really appreciate it, because I wasn’t sure how. I ran from a lot back then.”
My chest ached as I recalled the last time we stood on this island together.
We were kids back then, still trying to fight ourselves. Hiding behind women and toxic masculinity, desperately hoping that nobody would catch on to who we were behind closed doors.
