Chapter 8 Just for Now #2
He grins up at me. “I’m not the kind of guy who’s going to think he knows your body better than you.
” He punctuates his words with a kiss on one of the bows on the lace.
“Show me how you like it. Show me how to pleasure you,” he says, gently tugging the cup down.
“I’ll practice until it’s perfect. And then, maybe, I’ll improve on it. ”
He sucks my nipple into his mouth, pulling hard and making my back arch. I gasp, all my focus on that one spot until he releases it with a pop.
“Bailey,” he rasps. “Show me.”
I slide my left hand down my body and cover his, tugging it with me. He watches as I slip them both under the lace.
I show him exactly where to touch me.
“Right here?” he asks.
“Yes,” I moan and pull my hand back, clutching the pillow behind my head.
“Like this?”
It’s my favorite touch, the one I do myself when I have the time. Silas masters it and keeps up that same steady, slow stroke.
His mouth keeps going, too, alternating between my breasts, still mostly trapped in the lace, and whispering sweet, beautiful things against my skin. God, you’re so sexy. Can’t wait to feel you come.
I have to adjust him a few times, but he’s patient and persistent. Soon, my legs are restless, the pressure building inside me until heat flushes all over my body and I come. My core tenses, my head falls back. My hand flies back to his, showing him exactly how to press against me to draw it out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants. When my body has relaxed and I suck in a deep breath, he looks up. “Can I get a condom?”
“Please.” It comes out like a beg.
Silas sits up, pulling his jeans and underwear off his legs finally, and walks into his bathroom. He returns, tossing a strip of condoms on the bed, and kneels between my knees. He leans over me, setting one hand beside my head and tracing the strap of the teddy with the other.
He draws the strap down slowly, past my bicep, tugging until the cup flips over, exposing my breast. His knees push against my thighs, spreading my legs further while he sits back and takes the other strap down too.
Silas presses a kiss to my sternum, then my nipple, and then his mouth follows the lace down until he’s pulling the whole thing off and staring at me with wild eyes, taking everything in.
It’s long enough that I start to feel a self-consciousness creeping in. Just when I’m about to move to cover myself, Silas breaks his stare and grabs the condom, opening it and rolling it on.
He prowls over me, sliding his hands up my sides, taking my arms with him up and over my head. I forget all about my concerns, all those negative feelings replaced with anticipation. He kisses me hard while he lines up, threading his fingers through mine, and thrusts in.
My body takes him in and we both groan. Our mouths stay close together, panting and occasionally dropping kisses. Silas’s hips move slowly, rocking, and I wrap my legs around him.
Silas grunts into my shoulder. “Goddamn it. I’m not gonna last long.” His voice has gotten raspier. “Can you come like this?”
I shake my head.
In a flash, Silas rolls us over. I adjust my knees and sit up on his cock, looking down at him.
The tattoos draw my eye, but I’m distracted from them by Silas’s hand, which flattens over his abs and runs between us, feeling the place where his body is inside mine.
His eyes roll back in his head, and his finger drifts up to my clit.
He starts those slow, steady circles again.
“Like that?” he asks.
I close my eyes, letting my head fall back on my neck. My hands find his thighs as I lean back, the thick muscles tense and braced. “Yeah.”
He gets me close again, having to pin down my hips with his other hand, preventing me from grinding against him. “Just you, temptress,” he reprimands.
I still, and pay attention to his fingers. I barely have to correct him now. “Oh god, Silas. That’s good. That’s so good.”
“Yes. I want you to come for me again. Let me feel it.”
The combination of his strokes and the words tip me over and I come around his cock, slumping forward. His hands run up and down my back, and when I relax fully against him, he starts to thrust up, gentle at first and then getting rougher, harder.
His feet flat on the sheets, he tenses and grunts, lifting his hips and my knees off the bed. He pulses, gasping, and then collapses beneath me.
Then it’s all tender kisses and playing our fingers against each other. We clean up and when we slip back into bed, Silas pulls me to his chest, his arm banding around my waist.
“Today was . . .” he starts, then stops. His lips press against my shoulder. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Nerves flutter in my belly. “Since you were fifteen?”
“Since I was fifteen,” he confirms, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Worth the wait.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and I feel the weight of everything unsaid.
“We should probably talk about Hunter,” Silas says finally, his voice careful.
My stomach drops. “Yeah.”
“He can’t know. Not yet. Maybe not ever, I don’t know.” He sounds as conflicted as I feel. “He’s my best friend, and you’re his sister, and this is—”
“Complicated.”
“Extremely.” His hand traces lazy patterns on my hip. “And you’re leaving tomorrow.”
There it is. The thing we’re both thinking. Tomorrow. Not in a few days—tomorrow.
“I know,” I say quietly.
His hand stills on my hip. “That’s not enough time.”
It’s not. It’s nowhere near enough time to figure out what this is or could be. “So this is just . . .” Just what? Tonight? Sex? Something that can never be anything more? “. . . for now,” I finally finish.
His hand finds mine under the covers, threading our fingers together. “I’ll take ‘for now’ if that’s what you’re offering.”
The words hit harder than they should. He’s willing to take whatever scraps I give him—one night, stolen hours, something that has to stay secret. And I’m selfish enough to let him.
I squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of it. The temporary nature of this. The impossibility of anything more.
“Just for now,” I whisper back, even though my chest aches with it.
I fall asleep trying to memorize how this feels—his warmth, his breathing, the safety of his arms—knowing that by this time tomorrow, I’ll be back in my apartment in New York.
When I look back on this, will it feel like a dream . . . or a mistake?
I wake up alone.
The sheets beside me are cool, which means Silas has been gone for a while. The house is quiet and still.
My stomach twists.
Oh god. What did I do?
I sit up, pulling the sheet around myself like it can somehow protect me from the reality of last night. The reality that I slept with my brother’s best friend. That I crossed a line I can never uncross.
This was a mistake. A huge, catastrophic mistake.
Silas probably realizes it too. That’s why he’s not here. He’s probably in the kitchen right now, figuring out how to politely kick me out. How to pretend this never happened. How to face Hunter without the guilt written all over his face.
Hunter.
My chest constricts painfully.
Hunter is the only good thing about my family.
The only person who actually gives a shit about me, who shows up when I need him, who doesn’t make me feel like I’m perpetually disappointing him just by existing.
Mom and Dad have made it crystal clear over the years that I’m the daughter who can’t quite measure up—not successful enough, not thin enough, not enough period.
But Hunter? Hunter’s been my person since we were kids.
And I just risked that. For what? Sex? Yes, mind-blowingly good sex, but still, it was just sex.
If I ruin Hunter’s friendship with Silas—if this blows up and forces Hunter to choose sides—I’ll have nothing left. They both live here, they see each other all the time.
I’ll have no family worth speaking of. Just me, alone in the city.
I’d never forgive myself.
I need to go. Now. Before this gets worse. Before I do something even stupider like catch feelings or start believing this could be something real.
Sliding out of bed as quietly as possible, I gather my clothes from where they’re scattered across the floor. My hands shake as I pull on my jeans, my shirt. I need to get dressed, get out, and get back to the city where I can pretend this never happened.
Where I can shove whatever the hell I’m starting to feel for Silas Montgomery back into the box where it belongs.
Because I can’t do this. I can’t risk Hunter. I can’t risk being completely alone.
I grab my phone from the nightstand, already planning my escape route. I’ll say I have an early meeting. A work emergency. Something. Anything to get out of here before Silas comes back and we have to have the awkward morning-after conversation where we both pretend this meant nothing.
Even if, terrifyingly, it’s starting to feel like it meant everything.