Page 39 of White Noise

“Does that turn you on?” I spit, with more bark than bite.

His gaze drops briefly to my mouth.

“You already know it does.”

The answer lands hot and low in my stomach.

His hand slides from my wrist to my waist again, and another pulse of static rolls through me. This time I don’t hide the reaction fast enough. My lips part, my knees weaken slightly, and Silas’s expression darkens.

“Fuck.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His head tilts, mocking. “Notice?”

My face heats, and I look away.

“How could I not? You finally stopped lying to yourself, and it’s way to fucking pretty not to notice.”

His fingers flex at my waist, and the vibration beneath his skin intensifies.

My grip tightens on the edge of the counter.

Silas studies me with open fascination, like every reaction is something he’s cataloguing.

“I scare you,” he murmurs, “and you still want to know what fucking happens when I touch you again.”

The static under his hand stutters.

Silas’s expression changes.

Barely, but just enough for me to catch it. His fingers flicker against my waist.

For half a second, they’re there.

Then they aren’t, then they are again.

I stare down at his hand, and his gaze follows.

“Well, that’s inconvenient.”

A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.

“Are you fucking buffering?”

His eyes lift to mine.

Still cocky.

Still completely unbothered on the surface, even as static tears briefly through his forearm.

“Careful, little echo. Don’t get brave just because the signal’s being temperamental.”

Another glitch rips through his shoulder.

This time, I really do smile.

“You can’t stay.”