Chapter 15 #2
Marlow let out a dramatic scoff. “You can’t kick us out. We’re in the middle of breakfast.”
“Get. Out. Of my house.” The words were said through gritted teeth.
Oh, boy...
I nearly ducked down behind the stove to keep out of view. Facing that kind of wrath this early in the morning was going to give me an ulcer. I may be a cop, but even I knew when to bow out of a heated situation.
He stormed past the archway and over to them, both hands fisted at his sides until he reached the side of the table Marlow was sitting at. A single finger was unclenched in order to be used to point at the hallway, an aggressive jabbing motion attached to it.
“Out.”
“What crawled up your ass?” Marlow grinned. “Oh wait.”
Did this man have a death wish?
He had to with how comfortable he was pushing Silas’s buttons like that. Childhood friends were my first bet. That was the only kind of relationship that could withstand a few tussles on the ground without completely ruining the relationship in the long run.
Adjacent to siblings but without all the childhood trauma to solidify the bond.
Marlow’s undignified squawk followed after Silas grabbed a tight hold of the man’s shirt and lifted him clean out of his seat in an impressive show of strength.
The muscles in his back grew taut with the added weight, flexing under his skin while dragging him from around the other side of the table.
Who knew he was hiding such a sleeper build under those scrubs?
I’d gotten a good look at him last night, had taken in the broad shoulders, six pack abs, and defined biceps that had easily lifted me up while he fucked me stupid. But somehow the daylight enhanced everything, giving his features sharp and strikingly defined lines I hadn’t caught before now.
Not from this angle.
The taller of the two flailed, hand grappling for the ones hauling him away. His feet dragged against the tile while he fought for purchase. “You gave me the alarm code!”
“For emergencies,” Silas snapped back, shouldering him out into the hallway when his fingers were pried from Marlow’s shirt.
To my surprise, Blake simply stood up from his seat and collected both of their plates to bring them over to the sink. While passing me, he flashed a quick smile, setting the both into the washbasin and flicking on the tap.
When they both disappeared from view, I slowly turned away and asked, “Are... they always like this?”
“What, ridiculous? Yeah, kind of.”
I was desperate to ask for more. Another morsel to tide me over until the next time I got to see Silas in an unconventional position that wasn’t the bedroom.
What other ‘ridiculous’ things had he seen Silas do?
“Blake!”
He held his hands up immediately in surrender, flashing me another smile while saying, “That’s my cue. See you around.” He paused for a second to shut off the water, then added, “Hopefully.”
Yeah, I hope so, too.
Blake jogged out to the hallway, heading back the way he and Marlow had come when they arrived, and leaving me to be the only remaining soul in the kitchen.
I breathed out slowly, pulling my pan off the burner and plating the slightly overcooked omelet onto a plate next to it.
A foreboding sense of dread settled on my shoulders—impending in a way I knew would soon hit once Silas made his way back here to kick me out, too.
Waking up to a house full of people, one of which it sounded like wasn’t even supposed to be here considering there was an apparent ‘no sleeping over’ rules set in place, was definitely the last thing he’d been expecting to walk into.
No doubt he was completely disoriented at his two worlds colliding.
I had a healthy appreciation for keeping personal things separate. Friends and lovers—could I even call myself that?—didn’t mix unless things grew serious.
What would be the point in bringing someone around when the only thing budding between them and you was bed chemistry?
Muddying the waters with introducing friends and family was setting the stage for ultimate failure. Moving too quickly past the ‘hook up’ phase and into something else either party wasn’t comfortable or ready for yet, if at all, would end in disaster.
The sound of the front door’s alarm going off sent a wave of nausea shooting through my system, not at all going away once the alarm was reengaged and silence fell over the house once more.
Looking down at my freshly cooked food, my appetite remained lost despite the overwhelmingly tasty smell hitting me.
I should eat.
No matter how much I willed myself, my hand refused to grab the fork and cut into the omelet, my mind too focused on how embarrassing it was going to be to get dropped off in a cab in yesterday’s clothes at the front of my house where my sister was no doubt peeking through the blinds waiting for me.
How many dignity points would I lose showing up with a bag full of wet lingerie, wrinkled clothes that had definitely spent the night on the floor and my hair a mess from not being able to run a comb through it properly while it dried?
Actually, I doubted he even owned a plastic bag, let alone one I could shove my shit into to keep my poor sister innocent.
A heavy sigh startled me, bringing my attention back to the archway leading into the kitchen where Silas stalked through it.
He was shaking his head while a heavy frown tugged at his lips.
No eye contact was made as he passed by me and flopped down in Blake’s chair, folding himself over until his head rested flat against the table.
Both arms were brought up to cocoon his head, one hand gliding through his hair and stopping to tighten right at the base of his skull.
I didn’t dare move—worried that by breaking the spell and reminding him I was still here, he’d get up and drag me out the front door, too.
Maybe I could hitch a ride with the others...
Traitorously, my dick twitched at the thought of being manhandled that aggressively like Marlow had.
Being lifted right off of my feet and practically carried, like I weighed nothing more than a bag of potatoes.
Convincing him to make pit stop in his living room before he tossed me to the curb or fuck me on his couch—or hell, the living room wall.
Maybe then my ego wouldn’t feel so bruised when I stumbled into the cab waiting past the gate leading into this godforsaken mansion.
My ass stung painfully as I squeezed the inner muscles, testing them.
Ouch. Or maybe not.
Tentatively, I grabbed my plate and carried it over to him, setting it down gently next to his arm. “You should eat.”
He grunted at me, doing nothing more to move other than let out another long sigh.
The smooth expanse of skin on his back begged to be touched.
My fingers tingled with the need to trace the lines of his muscles and test how hard they were underneath the soft surface.
For someone who pulled ridiculous hours locked inside of a hospital, he kept himself surprisingly well groomed and maintained.
When did he even have the time to go to the gym and exercise?
Or keep the rest of him well kept?
If I worked half the amount of hours he did on a weekly basis, I’d be lucky if I could drag myself into the shower three times a week, let alone care enough to maintain the upkeep on my shaved happy trail and face.
I lifted my hand to touch him, hesitating right before I made contact.
Poking the bear was stupid, especially in this state where he seemed less than enthused to be bothered.
Getting your personal space invaded so soon after clearly just rolling out of bed—no doubt to investigate the smell of food being cooked from down the hall—and with no time to prep before mayhem, would piss me off, too.
Then again, if there was anything I wanted to do before I left today it was to feed him something as a form of gratitude.
I nudged his shoulder a few times. “Silas.”
Turned out, it was actually me who had the death wish and not Marlow after all.
To my surprise, he pushed back from the table suddenly and sat back in his seat. One arm came up to loop around my waist to tug me sideways, hard enough to shift me off my feet and pull me down into his lap.
My body flushed with heat at the unexpected manhandling.
His other hand pressed at my chest until my back was flush with him and then wandered down to my bare thigh, knocking my legs apart in order to wrap his hand around one of them.
His hold was tight as he locked his fingers around the meaty part of my leg, sending a zing of pleasure rocketing up my spine.
This felt possessive.
Domineering.
Greedy.
When he peeled his other hand from around my waist, he used it to grab the fork off the plate and cut into the omelet, stabbing it once and then lifting it up to my lips.
My mouth parted in surprise.
What... the hell was happening?
Sleep deprivation. That was the only explanation here.
“Whatever they told you,” he muttered, wiggling the egg against my lips. “Ignore it. They were being annoying.”
I wanted to roll my ass back into his hips and test how fast he could get hard while still half asleep.
Did his dominant side depend on his sleep cycle or was that his natural state?
“So, what you’re saying is I shouldn’t believe what they said about that time in middle school.”
His nails bit into my thigh.
“What?”
I worked my teeth on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to keep from smiling as I shifted just enough to look over my shoulder at him. “I’m kidding.”
He let out a small snort, shoving the fork past my lips before letting his head fall back to rest against the seat behind him. “I wouldn’t put it past them to tell you something like that.”
I chewed slowly. “Really?”
He hummed in response, his eyes falling closed while he rested the fork down on the table.