Page 59 of Closer Than You Think
His words aren't just about getting out of the woods—they're about the future, our future. And I nod, because with Si, I'm ready for anything.
Twenty-Eight
Silas
The crisp scent of antiseptics fills my nostrils as I watch over Hallie, her broken wrist being set by the best damned medical team money can hire. They move with practiced ease that’s reminiscent of my own training—efficient, precise, no wasted motion. Her face is pinched in pain, but she doesn't make a sound. Even now, she's strong.
“Almost done, Ms. St. James,” one of the medics murmurs, and I can see the relief flood her features.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice carrying that soothing tone I've grown to crave in the madness of my world.
I sit beside her, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. My hand lingers on her cheek for a moment longer than necessary. “You're safe,” I tell her, though who I'm trying to reassure—her or myself—is unclear.
Her brown eyes meet mine, and something unspoken passes between us, dangerous and tender all at once.
“Let's get you home,” I say once they finish setting her wrist. Home. The word tastes foreign on my tongue, it’s not a word I ever used much, but with her, it starts to make sense.
The sun has set by the time we make it back to the penthouse, bathing the sleek interior in shadows. Halliehesitates in the entryway, her doe eyes darting around the minimalist space. This cold modern fortress is a world away from her cozy apartment, with its plush cushions and student artwork and suddenly, I feel like it’s all wrong. I want to redecorate, let Hallie fill our home with plants and pillows and softness.
I flick on a lamp, casting a warm glow over the leather sofa. “Make yourself comfortable. I'll get you something for the pain.”
“I think I want to take a quick shower. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
I notice she goes to the bedroom she stayed in when she first came here. Not mine. Not the one Blake took her from. I’d hired people to clean it up, but I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to go in there any time soon. Hell, maybe I’ll renovate this whole fucking place so she never has to face a single bad memory of this.
Ten minutes later, I’m in the kitchen when I hear her soft voice announce her return. She sinks delicately onto the couch while I retrieve the medication. I find her gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glittering cityscape below. She looks small and fragile against the panoramic view.
I sit beside her and offer two white pills. She accepts them, her fingers brushing mine. The contact sends a spark through my body.
“Thank you, Si.” My nickname in her sweet tone makes me yearn.
I settle onto the leather sofa beside Hallie, acutely aware of her proximity. She turns to me, her doe eyes luminous in the soft lamplight.
“I was so scared today,” she says, her voice just above a whisper.
I clench my jaw, fury rising within me at the memory of her terror. “I won't let anyone hurt you ever again.”
Her fingers brush over the scars on my knuckles, scars earned from years of violence. But her touch is tender, forgiving.
She leans into me then, her head coming to rest on my shoulder. The floral scent of her shampoo envelops me. I slip an arm around her, pulling her close. But soon I can’t help but need more. Need to give her more.
I pull her sleep shorts down and sink onto my knees.
“Si, what are you doing?”
“Shh . . . Let me take care of you.”
She moans at the first kiss I place on her thigh. I trail my lips along her thighs, inching closer to her sweet cunt. I want to worship her, to make her feel the same passion and fire that burns within me. As my tongue meets her clit, her hips arch forward.
“Si, oh God . . . ” she moans, the fingers of her uninjured hand grabbing the couch for support.
I relish the sounds of her pleasure, her taste, her scent. I've never wanted anyone as much as I want Hallie. My tongue dips inside her, exploring her wet pussy, savoring the taste of her. Her moans spur me on, the heady combination of her intoxicating scent and her soft gasps fueling my hunger.
I remove my shirt, tossing it aside, and unbuckle my pants. My cock strains against my boxer briefs, but I refuse to fuck her until she comes on my tongue first.
Hallie's moans and gasps of pleasure fill the room, her hips gyrating in time with my movements. The sight of her, writhing on the couch, lost in ecstasy, is enough to make me lose control, but I hold back, desperate to savor this moment, to give her the release she so desperately needs.
With a final flick of my tongue, she arches her back and cries out, her orgasm tearing through her body like a wildfire. It's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard, and I find myself enviousof her release, my own need for her, for release, growing by the second.
