Page 26 of Closer Than You Think
“Silas,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath.
“Can I come in?” Silas asks, his tone even, betraying nothing of the storm that must be raging within him—or within me.
I hesitate but then step aside, granting him entry. The door closes with a soft click, sealing us inside my safe haven that suddenly feels far less safe.
Before I can turn myself, Silas grabs my waist and spins me around, pushing me against the door and sealing his lips to mine. I don’t protest. I can’t. Despite all of my confusion, I want this man and everything he has to offer. Don’t I?
Silas grinds his hard erection against me and I moan at the feel of it. His lips move down to my neck, sucking and kissing, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.
“You left without saying goodbye,” he says as he sinks two fingers inside me without warning.
I cry out at the intrusion.
“Shh, angel. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
And he does. He lifts me higher and higher with each thrust of his hand, each kiss he leaves all over my skin.
“God, Hallie. You look so fucking good wearing my shirt. I told you last night that you were mine now . . . ”
I can’t respond, other than a whimper.
“And that means you don’t leave me without saying goodbye.”
His pace quickens and I’m so close.
“You understand, angel?”
I moan.
He thrusts his fingers harder, punishing my already-sore pussy.
“Say you understand.”
“Yes,” I whisper, barely able to control my voice. “I . . . I understand.”
He smirks. “Good,” he says, as he presses his thumb against my clit, sending me over the edge into a hazy oblivion.
He holds me as I ride out the orgasm, then pulls me to him and lifts me effortlessly into his arms.
Somehow I end up on the sofa again, but I don’t remember how we got there. Only that I’m half-laying, half-sitting against Silas and he’s stroking my arm with calloused fingers.
My eyes flutter open. “Hi.”
He smiles. “Hey. You doing okay?”
“Oh, more than okay after that.”
His smile turns into a smirk and I shove a pillow at him. But then reality comes crashing down and I have to face it. I can’t exist inside a Silas-infused sex bubble. I sit up and put what little space between us I can, considering his massive frame is taking up most of my tiny sofa.
“Last night,” I begin, my voice steady despite the tremor I feel inside, “it was intense, Silas. But it wasn't just that. It . . . it was like this dream I had.”
He sits there, a statue carved from stone, his green eyes fixed on me. His silence is a canvas against which my fears paint vivid strokes.
“Your dream,” he repeats slowly, the words measured, deliberate. “Hallie, I don't know what you saw when you closed your eyes, but I can assure you it's just that—a dream.”
“Is it, though?” My own skepticism surprises me. “The way you touched me, the force behind your hands—it was as if you knew. As if you'd been there in my mind, making it reality.”
Silas's gaze never wavers, and I search those depths for a flicker of recognition, an admission, anything. But all I find is the calm before the storm.
