Page 42 of The Addict

I made my way to my bottom drawer and took out the one small bottle that Damian hadn’t destroyed, trying to shake off my nerves and face the act that needed to be done.

Tequila. My liquor of choice.

“Would you like a drink?” I questioned, without turning around. I anticipated the answer and carefully poured out two glasses.

Click.

I brought my drink to my lips, turning to see Silas’s fingers hovering over the room’s lock. The drink did nothing to get rid of the heavy lump in my throat. I quickly realized that any chance of me changing my mind now, was useless. Mr. Thorne knew it too, judging by the little smirk on his face.

Silas shred his grey coat to reveal a loose fitting red t-shirt and pants. It wasn’t often that I ever saw him in an outfit that seemed so… comfortable. “Sorry Noah,” he declined with a little shake of his head. “I want to be sober for this.” He carelessly slung the article of clothing to the other side of the room as if it were a mere obstacle in his path. He inched closer, kicking off one shoe. Two.

My eyes trailed down the form of his body, lean, tone, his muscular arms just barely showing through the material of his shirt. We were really about to do this, huh?

“Suit yourself,” I answered with a shrug. Without hesitation, I turned back around to the glass I poured for him and tossed them both back. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The more the merrier, right? Shit, I probably need a little liquid courage anyhow.

The soft shuffles of Silas’s feet as he crossed the remaining distance of the floor rang in my ears and I tensed, my back muscles contracting, waiting for the inevitable touch. For what seemed like eternity, I waited, staring at the empty cups. Silas stood directly behind me, his mouth brushing my ear, his flowing hair starting to drape over my shoulder from the proximity. I shivered from the contact.

“Will you make the first move, or shall I?” he whispered, hands slithering up either side of my arms, his chest pressing into my back.

I swallowed. Why wasn’t the alcohol working? Why could I hear every intake of breath, every movement? Every sense in my arsenal had taken fire upon me, amplified. The steady thumping of my own heart seemed to ring out around the two of us.

“Turn around,” Silas ordered. “Face me, Hansen.”

I could feel the rush of blood to my face and my cock. Just the thought of what Silas wanted to do to me made my pants stretch. In mere seconds, we were back in the alley, reliving that brief, scandalous moment. Hands on each other, teeth on skin and tongue.

And now we were submerged in silence. The clock on the other side of the room ticked as loud as my own pulse. There was no audience. No interruptions. No stopping.

I was quiet, knowing if I spoke now, my voice would reveal my nerves.

“Face the silly promise you made to save that girl. You are a man of your word, right?” Silas teased.

And then something clicked and I remembered why I was here, why I was doing this to begin with. Not only for myself.

For Delane.

I turned to face Silas, noticing first the smug mist pooled in his eyes. Lust rimmed the outside of his retinas, coursing straight through into me. Even though we hadn’t yet made contact, my heart beat wildly. The air was thin.

“Why are you so nervous?” Silas asked with amusement, clearly noticing my behavior. His hand danced up my collar bone and cheek, casually reaching out to play with a strand of my hair.

Lie. My brain told me. You’re good at it.

“I’m not,” I muttered.

“Your heart is beating like crazy.” Silas grinned, journeying his fingers back down to rest against my chest. In response to his touch, my heart accelerated. He leaned forward so that our noses were touching. “Are you...afraid?”

“No. I want this.” My voice cracked and I cringed.

Silas chuckled, a dark, knowing sound that lingered in the air. A brief moment and his smirk was gone, making him unreadable once again. That businesslike focus returned, invasive and calculating, and it wasn’t about promises anymore. It was about me. I was the deal he was about to close. He leaned in slowly, until our thighs pressed together—his body radiating heat, his gaze locked on mine. Every inch between us vanished, and still, it felt like he hadn’t even started with what he intended to do to me.

“Are you a virgin, Noah?” he asked quietly.

I blinked, hard, thinking I misheard him. “I– what?” I stopped, unable to believe what he had just asked me.

“You heard me,” Silas growled, unimpressed by my very authentic reaction to his question.

I couldn’t stifle the laugh that followed. And honestly, thank fuck for the comedic relief. Shit was getting intense.

“You’d only wish, Thorne.” My sarcastic side was kicking in, courtesy of the alcoholic edge finally making its way into my brain. Silas was taken aback at my reaction. I could almost see the disappointment developing in the furrow of his brows.