Page 58 of Ugly Truths
“I missed you so much,” I breathe, the words trembling against his mouth.
A low groan rumbles from deep in his chest, vibrating through my palms where they press against him. His fingers tighten at my waist, and then he presses me down, my core sliding over the thick, hard length of him. The contact is enough to punch a small, broken whimper from my throat.
I kiss him harder, more desperate now, nails digging into his ribs like I need to hold onto something. “No one—” I gasp as he thrusts up again, my forehead falling to his. “No one has ever made me feel like this.”
His eyes snap to mine and flash with a brightness that seems to illuminate the room.
“Show me,” he rasps.
For the first time all day, I don’t hesitate.
Sitting up, I hook my thumbs under the waistband of my sleep shorts and push them down, pulling them off one leg at a time until they’re lost somewhere on the bed.
It’s only been a few hours since he decided to try to stop hating me. I need to earn back his trust slowly. Prove myself with time, consistency, and patience. It’s the only way this will ever work. But his being under me like this stirs something dark and deep inside me to demand that he believe it.Right now.
I press my palms over his abs, trailing lower, silently instructing him to lift his hips. He obeys, and I slide his sweatpants and briefs down just enough for his aching cock to spring free. The sight of him like this makes my breath hitch.
How is he even real?
All lean muscle and olive skin, hard lines softened by the low light. Even in the dark, I can see the flush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks.
I lick my palm slowly, and when I wrap it around his length, his breath shudders like I’ve stolen it from his lungs. I take my time, savoring the way he twitches under my strokes, hips raising off the bed for more friction. There’s a slight sheen to his forehead as he holds back every instinct to take over.
With my free hand, I reach over to the bedside table, fingers grazing the familiar weight of his glasses. I bring them to my mouth, opening the arms with my lips before sliding them onto his face.
For a split second, Silas just stares, but when his vision adjusts, the reaction is instant. His pupils expand, and his tongue flicks impatiently across the inside of his cheek as I slide further up his chest to position him at my entrance, the tip settling just where it’s supposed to be.
Then I sink down.
A sharp gasp tears from my lips as he stretches me open, inch by inch. Silas curses low and filthy, hands snapping back to my waist with a grip that borders on bruising. The fullness makes my head spin. I don’t stop until there’s no space left between us and I’m full of him.
Even in the best moments with Silas in the spring, a part of me detached when we were like this. Probably to preserve whatever shreds of my heart remained.
But I can feel everything now. The slide of his buttery skin on mine, the faint trail of hair that leads down under his naval, the erratic pulse under my fingers. I stay like that for a moment, letting the burn settle into something deeper.
Then I reach for the hem of my sleep shirt and tug it over my head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His eyes track every movement, dark and wild and completely wrecked.
My lips curl into a slow, devious smile as I roll my hips once, testing the drag of him inside me. His head tips back against the pillow, a sound somewhere between a groan and a prayer escaping him.
He told me to take what I want.
Until he tells me to stop, I will.
Chapter 24
Silas
As much as I want to stay buried in Elena for the next week, reality has other plans and we still have work to do.
While having breakfast together at the kitchen island the next morning, I tell her that I need to spend some time in virtual meetings. A part of me braces for her reaction, half expecting her to fall into old habits and retreat to that damn guest room I still want to demolish, but she doesn’t.
Quietly, almost shyly, she asks, “Can I work in your study? On the couch, I mean. You won’t even know I’m there.”
Each word is carefully chosen, and I can feel something start to weld itself back together inside of me, white-hot and burning. It’s the same sensation I felt yesterday when I found her in my bedroom, claiming the space she wouldn’t even leave clothes in four months ago.
All I can manage is a nod. Anything else would have resulted in me taking her on the counter, as I had promised I would, Kendall prepping for dinner next to us be damned.
That’s when it really hit me how insane this is.
