Chapter 7 #2
I turn, and he lifts me onto the vanity in one smooth motion. Makeup scatters, but neither of us cares. His hands frame my face, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“If we do this,” he says carefully, “there's no going back. Don't ask me to let go once I've had a taste of you.”
The possessiveness in his voice sends molten heat straight to my core.
“I'm not asking you to let go.” I reach for his belt, fingers working the leather with the same efficiency I use on locks. “I'm asking you to hold on tight.”
His control snaps.
He crushes his mouth to mine, all gentleness abandoned. This kiss is pure fire—teeth and tongue and desperate hunger. His hands tangle in my hair, angling my head exactly where he wants it.
I work his belt free, then the button of his pants. The zipper follows, and when my hand wraps around him, he breaks away from my mouth with a curse that would make a sailor blush.
“Fuck, Nova.” His forehead drops to mine, breath coming in ragged pants. “You're going to kill me.”
“That's the plan.” I stroke him slowly, watching the way his jaw clenches with each movement.
His hands find the hem of my skirt, pushing it up my thighs. When his fingers brush against my panties, we both groan.
“Soaked,” he says roughly. “You're fucking soaked for me.”
I can't deny it. Can't pretend this doesn't affect me when the evidence is literally in his hand.
He hooks his fingers in the lace and tears. The sound of fabric ripping fills the air, and I should probably be annoyed about the destruction of my underwear.
Instead, it makes me even wetter.
“Silas—”
“I'll buy you new ones.” He positions himself at my entrance, the head of his cock pressing against my slick heat. “I'll buy you a dozen pairs so I can rip them all off.”
“Less talking,” I gasp. “More—”
He drives into me in one hard thrust.
The stretch is exquisite, bordering on too much. I cry out, my back arching as my body struggles to accommodate him. He's bigger than I expected, thicker, and the sensation of being completely filled makes my vision blur.
“Fuck,” he breathes, staying perfectly still. “You feel... Christ, Nova. You feel perfect.”
I can't form words. Can barely breathe. All I can do is cling to his shoulders while my body adjusts to the invasion.
“Move,” I finally manage. “Please, Silas. Move.”
He doesn't need to be asked twice.
He withdraws slowly, almost completely, before slamming back in. The vanity shakes under the impact, more items falling to the floor. I don't care. Can't care about anything except the feel of him moving inside me.
“That's it,” he growls against my throat. “Take it. Take all of me.”
His pace is brutal, desperate. Each thrust drives me higher, closer to an edge I've never reached with anyone else. The angle is perfect, hitting spots that make me see stars.
“God, yes.” My nails dig into his shoulders, probably leaving marks. “Don't stop. Please don't stop.”
“Not planning on it.” His teeth find my neck, biting down just hard enough to sting. “I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name. Until the only thing left is this.”
He emphasizes the word with a particularly deep thrust that makes me cry out. The sound echoes in the small room, probably audible to anyone passing by outside.
“Let them hear,” he says, reading my thoughts. “Let everyone know who's making you feel this good.”
One of his hands slides between us, finding my clit with unerring precision. The added stimulation sends me spiraling toward release, my muscles clench around him like a vice.
“That's it,” he encourages, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Come for me, Nova. Let me feel you fall apart.”
The orgasm crashes into me like a cannon ball. I scream his name—actually scream it—while my body convulses around him. White light explodes behind my eyelids, and for a moment, I forget everything. My name, my past, the reasons I'm running.
All that exists is Silas and the pleasure he's wringing from my body.
He doesn't stop. If anything, my climax spurs him on, his thrusts becoming even more intense. The overstimulation borders on painful, but I don't want him to stop. Don't ever want this feeling to end.
“Again,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Give me another one.”
“I can't—”
“You can.” His thumb works my clit with ruthless motions. “Come on, beautiful. I know you've got another one in you.”
He's right. I can feel it building again, the tension coiling low in my belly. But this one's different—bigger, more intense. The kind that might actually break me.
“Silas,” I gasp. “I'm—”
“I know.” His forehead presses against mine, blue eyes boring into me. “I can feel it. Let go, Nova. Let go and trust me to catch you.”
Trust. The word stops me cold. I don't trust anyone. Haven't in years. But the way he's looking at me, the way he's holding me together while taking me apart…
The second orgasm destroys me.
This time, I don't just scream—I sob. The pleasure is so intense it is almost overwhelming, wringing sounds from my throat that I've never made before. My entire body shakes, overwhelmed by sensation as I drench his cock.
Silas follows me over the edge with a roar that probably rattles the walls. His release triggers aftershocks that leave me trembling, completely spent.
For long moments, we stay frozen like that—him buried inside me, both of us breathing hard. The vanity mirrors around us reflects our joined bodies, and I catch a glimpse of what we look like together.
Wrecked. Completely and utterly wrecked.
“Fuck,” he finally breathes, pulling back to look at me. “That was...”
“Yeah.” I can't manage anything more coherent.
He helps me down from the vanity on unsteady legs, both of us moving carefully. My skirt falls back into place, but there's no hiding what just happened. My hair's a disaster, my lips are swollen, and I'm pretty sure I have fingerprint bruises forming on my thighs.
“That's a lost cause,” he says, gesturing to the torn lace on the floor.
“You said you'd get me more.” I try to sound bossy, but the effect is ruined by the breathless quality of my voice.
“I'll get you a whole wardrobe.” He tucks himself back into his pants, fingers still slightly unsteady. “Anything you want.”
The casualness of the offer catches me off guard. Like buying me lingerie is as simple as picking up groceries. Like this—whatever this was—means more than just scratching an itch.
The thought should terrify me. Should send me running for the door.
Instead, it makes me want to stay.
Which is exactly why I need to go.
“I should get back to my trailer,” I say, gathering up the scattered makeup from the vanity. “Long day tomorrow.”
He catches my wrist—the same way he did earlier, gentle but implacable. “Nova.”
“What?”
“Look at me.”
I do, and immediately regret it. Those eyes see too much, understand too much. He's going to ask questions I can't answer, make demands I can't meet.
Instead, he simply says, “Sweet dreams.”
He releases my wrist and steps back, giving me space to leave. No pressure, no demands for promises or explanations. Just that simple benediction and the lingering heat in his gaze.
I make it to the door before I turn back.
“Silas?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For... for letting me forget. Even if it was just for a little while.”
A softness flickers across his face. “Anytime, beautiful. Anytime at all.”
I slip out into the night, leaving him alone in the dressing room with the scattered evidence of what we've done. The cool air caresses my flushed skin, and I shiver—though whether from cold or the memory of his hands, I can't tell.
Back in my trailer, I collapse onto the narrow bed still fully clothed. My body aches in the best possible way, muscles loose and satisfied. For the first time in months—maybe years—my mind is quiet.
No thoughts of Roman, no panic about being caught, no fear of what tomorrow might bring.
Just the lingering taste of Silas's kiss and the echo of my name on his lips.
Maybe staying won't be so dangerous after all.
Even as the thought forms, I know it's a lie.
Silas Crowley is the most dangerous man I've ever met. Not because he might hurt me—though something tells me he's capable of violence when provoked.
He's dangerous because he makes me want things I can't have.
Like a future. Like safety. Like someone who'll catch me when I fall.
And that's a risk I can't afford to take.
But as I drift off to sleep, still wearing the scent of his skin, I let myself pretend—just for one night—that maybe I can.