Page 41 of Code Violation

A childhood memory of Naomi and me sitting on the living room floor when we were younger flashes in front of me. Mom had promised that she would be home hours before, but she still hadn’t returned from the date she was on, and we were wondering how to make our dinner.

“Look at me, Vesper,” Silas pleads.

I keep my head down because it’s easier to say it without eye contact. “When your parents don’t care about your well-being, it gets really hard to recognize the right kind of person who will love you in all the right ways.”

When I finally bring my gaze back to his, Silas doesn’t look shocked by what I told him. Only anger burns in his eyes.

“Fuck Kane and fuck your parents. They’re all pieces of shit.” He swallows hard, gathering himself. “Tell me, what can I do to make you happy? I know you don’t believe the bullshit my brother fed you, and I see you know how much better you are than him. How much more you deserve. So, tell me, as a strong, beautiful, kick-ass woman … what do you need from me?”

My throat runs dry, white-hot heat coursing through me as we continue to hold each other captive.

“What do you want, Silas? I want to hear what’s going through your head. It always feels like you’re going at my pace, and I want to know what you need for a change.”

His palms gently press into my face, lips finding the shell of my ear. “I need you to ask me that question again, Knockout. Just so I can be sure the first time wasn’t a mistake that you’ll go on to regret in the morning.”

Holy shit.

I can barely form a single word, let alone a whole sentence.

“What do you want, Silas?” I rasp.

The hum of the background music and voices from those surrounding us fades into nothing when he brings his lips back to my ear.

“I want to show you why you chose the wrong brother.”

14

. . .

Silas

We left the cocktail bar without saying goodbye to anyone.

Vesper grabbed her purse and jacket, and I took her hand, leading us out into the Seattle night air.

And as I scan my thumbprint—because I’m cool and sophisticated like that—to enter my apartment, I’ve no idea what the hell will happen next between us, although I couldn’t be clearer on what I want.

This girl. Beneath me. All fucking night.

Despite us knowing each other for years, Vesper has never been to my place, and as she steps foot inside the living space—which is styled in a Norwegian finish in white and dark browns with exposed pipework—she does a full spin to take it all in.

“Remind me why I’ve never been here before?” she asks with hearts in her eyes.

I knew Vesper would like the decor in here, and I’d be a liar to claim that I wasn’t thinking of her when I had it designed a year ago.

While we’re both American, I know she’s always had a fascination with Scandinavian countries and styling. I remember buying her a fur throw for the couch one year for Christmas, although I didn’t see it again after a couple of weeks. A hungover Kane likely puked all over it or some shit like that.

Unable to keep my hands off Vesper any longer, I stride toward her and plant my hands on her hips. In knee-length black boots, black tights, and a plaid miniskirt, she looks cute as fuck. A Rogues jersey—which I wish were mine—is tucked into her waistband.

“Because you kept me at arm’s length for way too long.”

Through dark lashes, she peers up at me. Vulnerability, anticipation, anxiety—they’re all present and summarize my own emotions perfectly.

“We both silently knew we could never go there. Not with Kane in the picture.”

I drop my forehead against hers, hands shaking as I hold on to her. “And now that he’s no longer a part of the equation?”

Vesper rises onto her tiptoes, lips barely brushing mine. “I guess we’re free to do as we please.”