Page 8 of Natasha
"Took 'im outside," Silas said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.
"Outside?" Natasha asked with a tilt of her head.
"Yeah. Made sure he wouldn't bother you anymore." Silas rocked back on his heels and looked up at the ceiling, but he said no more.
"Did you," she paused for a second before she asked, "beat him up?"
Silas stilled and stared up at the ceiling, but at her question, he cracked a smile. "I prefer the term 'roughed him up'."
Natasha let out a low chuckle, and at the sound, Silas looked down at her and grinned. "You're not upset?" he asked, biting his lip in a way that was so reminiscent of her younger students when they had done wrong.
"I wish I was a good enough person to say that I was." Natasha tucked her legs beneath her and shrugged. "But I've never been that great a person."
Silas smirked at that. "Maddy loves you, which means you're a spectacular person."
Natasha glowed with pleasure at the mention of her student. "Maddy is a very sweet girl."
Silas pinned her with another one of his summer sky stares. "And she has an uncanny ability to find the best people."
Clearing her throat, Natasha looked away from him. "I can see that with you," she said in an attempt to deflect Silas' compliment.
"Me?" He snorted and waved a hand. "I'm her uncle. She's stuck with me, but you? Maddy worships you."
Natasha was the one to snort this time. "She does not," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Do you know how much I hear about Ms. Natasha?" he asked, coming back to sit on the couch next to her. "I think I know every major dance company and production you've ever starred in. She's got a playbill from your last one tacked up on her bedroom wall."
Natasha's mouth fell open. "She does not."
Silas wagged a finger at her. "Oh, but she does. She does, Ms. Natasha."
Natasha covered her face with her hands, but she knew she was unable to hide the blush coloring her fair complexion. "Ms. Natasha? Oh, so it's going to be like that?" she asked with a huff of laughter.
Silas winked. "Certainly is."
She crossed her arms and tilted her chin. "If I'm Ms. Natasha, then it's only fair that you're Mr. Silas."
Silas tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Mr. Silas? That doesn't quite have the ring to it that Ms. Natasha does."
"Oh, I don't know. I think it's very nice and proper." She grinned at him, her hands no longer worrying the blanket wrapped around her, and she turned to face him on the couch, legs still pulled close to her chest.
"Do you?" Silas asked, his eyes zeroing in on where the blanket had fallen away from her legs, exposing her skin. Natasha caught his look and blushed, thinking of Silas carrying her from the dance studio in nothing but her scant dance attire.
"I, y-yes, it's very proper," Natasha stammered when she saw the summer sky in his eyes had again been replaced by the storm, but this time it wasn't out of anger but, rather, something just as powerful. Lust.
Natasha recognized it because she could feel it coiling in her stomach. It was warm like a shot of vodka on a winter night. And she decided she liked the way Silas was watching her every move with focus.
"Yes, what?" Silas asked, his voice low. He was leaning closer to her on the couch that now seemed far too small to hold his broad, muscular frame, so close that she could smell the fresh, clean scent of him, feel the heat from his body against her legs. Being this close to Silas made Natasha feel dainty and small, like one of the Faberge eggs her grandmother collected and insisted on keeping in the front room of her home.
"Yes, Sir," Natasha murmured. The title slipped from her lips as if she were on auto-pilot, and her eyes widened when she realized what she'd said. A low moan escaped Silas' mouth. He leaned closer to her, the couch dipping beneath his weight and his eyes taking in every part of her that wasn't covered by the blanket.
"Say that again," Silas said, his voice husky.
"Sir," Natasha whispered. She could feel the familiar heat of desire starting to spread through her, and she parted her lips, dragging her tongue across the bottom one.
"Now does that sound proper to you?"
The room was silent save for their voices, and she found she was loathe to break the silence, so she lowered her voice. "Yes," Natasha breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
