Chapter 26 #2
Another sharp huff of breath escaped beneath the mask, and despite everything—despite the manor, the kidnapping, the dead bodies undoubtedly piling up somewhere downstairs—I felt my mouth threatening to smile.
This man was going to psychologically destroy me.
“You can sit down,” I told him after a second. “I did ask you to stay.”
For the first time since returning to the room, he hesitated.
It was brief. So brief most people probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all. But I saw the subtle tightening of his shoulders, the slight flex of his fingers at his sides before he finally crossed the room towards me.
And suddenly the atmosphere changed again. The bedroom had felt safe before. So much so that I hadn’t wanted to leave.
Now it felt intimate.
Small.
The air almost palpable.
My stomach tightened nervously as Silas pulled out the chair opposite mine and sat down across from me.
Even seated, he seemed too large for the space around him.
Too intense. The silver mask reflected softly in the morning light pouring through the windows, whilst his gaze remained fixed entirely on me.
Not the food.
Me.
I suddenly became hyperaware of everything—the way my hair fell over my shoulders, the thin material of my top, the smell of vanilla lingering from my bath products.
The fact that I was sitting across from a man who had murdered people with his bare hands whilst I reached for a croissant like this was normal.
My cheeks warmed slightly at the thought.
Silas’s fingers began drumming softly against the table, and my eyes clocked the steady rhythm immediately.
I knew what that meant.
He was nervous.
The idea of Silas Falcone being nervous around me should have been ridiculous.
And yet the longer I sat there beneath his stare, the more I noticed little things.
The harsher sound of his breathing beneath the mask.
The way his hands kept flexing against the edge of the table.
The way he looked at me for slightly too long before abruptly shifting his gaze elsewhere.
Awareness crackled heavily between us.
And for the first time since meeting Silas, I had the terrifying suspicion that maybe I wasn’t the only one beginning to lose control of this situation.
“I love strawberries,” I said, trying to distract myself by reaching for one of them, and then my face immediately reddened. I could practically feel the smug smirk. I practically felt him raise an eyebrow at me. I didn’t need to see it.
I know…
Because he did fucking know. He knew everything about me.
“Well… that was a pointless statement,” I added with a fake chuckle.
And then the room grew silent again.
I swallowed heavily, my throat feeling thick and heavy, as though all the tension from the room was being swallowed up by my rapid breathing, becoming lodged in my throat, slowly suffocating me.
Silas shifted, and my body was aware of every inch of him. From his long legs under the table, brushing close to mine. From the way his finger drummed on the cloth, the way his hair smelled, the fresh, almost youthful look of the mask with the sunlight reflecting off it.
Even without looking, I was aware of his movements. I knew when he reached for the teapot, pouring liquid into my cup. I knew when he brushed an imaginary crumb off his knee, his fingers almost brushing against my bare leg.
But most of all, I was aware of how my body responded—the back of my neck grew hot, my mouth dried up, my knees almost trembled.
And my stomach?
Well, that stupid thing wouldn’t stop flipping with nerves and excitement.
The worst of it though was the other areas I responded.
My inner thighs warming. The throbbing between my legs. I was both mortified and disgusted with myself. And the only way I knew how to cover this up was to talk.
“I really appreciate this, Silas,” I said, scooping up some sugar to put in my tea. “You really didn’t need to go to this much trouble, though. I would have been happy with just a bacon sandwich, haha.”
Now why in the fuck had I laughed like that?
I sounded like an absolute wanker.
And I was still talking!
“But this is nice, though, isn’t it? Having all these options. It really makes you appreciate how fortunate we are, doesn’t it? Maybe we should donate our leftovers. Do you know the name of the local food bank?”
Does.
He.
Know.
The.
Name.
Of.
A.
Food.
Bank.
Jesus Christ, I was losing it. And I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I was babbling away, my voice rising to something bordering on hysteria, my entire face flaming.
And still, all I could think about was that throbbing. That heat. That—
Silas’s hands covered my own, his fingers curling around mine tight enough that I gasped, dropping the spoon.
It was only then that I realised I had been scooping spoon after spoon of sugar into my tea the entire time I'd been speaking.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “I hope you weren’t planning on anything to drink. It seems captivity has made me develop a sweet tooth.”
A sharp huff escaped beneath the mask.
Laughter.
Actual laughter.
No fucking way!
For some absolutely insane reason, I wanted to hear that laugh again. I picked up the spoon and stirred the sugar into the tea, before bringing the cup to my lips and taking a sip.
“Mmm,” I said, shaking my head against the overwhelming sweetness. “Just how I like it.”
Another rise and fall of his shoulders, and then he busied himself, picking up another cup and pouring a fresh brew, silently handing it to me.
“Thank you,” I murmured, my fingers brushing against his leather gloves.
I wish he would remove them so I can finally feel him properly.
The thought almost had me dropping my tea.
The mask tilted again, as though he were capable of reading my mind and knew exactly where my thoughts had gone.
And then, with the lightest of touches, he placed his fingers on my elbow and gently pushed my arm upwards.
Drink.
I wrapped both hands around the warm mug, mostly because it gave me something else to focus on besides the unbearable awareness between us, and took another sip—this one far better than the monstrosity I had made for myself.
“Mmm,” I breathed with a genuine moan this time. “God, that’s good.”
Silas stiffened next to me. I glanced over at him, almost seeing the tension radiate off him. His mask dipped ever so slightly, and my lips tingled in response.
He was staring at them.
The throbbing came back with renewed intensity. I clenched my thighs, desperate to relieve the burning I felt.
And I knew Silas knew exactly what was happening to me. His body seemed to tense even further. His fists clenched, and I knew it wasn’t from anger.
It was desire.
Burning hot raw desire.
I licked my dry lips, nervously biting down on my lower one. He raised a gloved hand, bringing it to my mouth. Gently, he used his thumb to pry my lip from between my teeth and stroked along the length of it.
I had the most inane desire to lick his thumb, to nibble on the soft skin and—
I jumped up from the table, my chair tipping backwards to the floor, the drinks tipping over. I felt hot liquid splash on my thighs, but too embarrassed to register the pain.
“Th-thank you for a lovely meal,” I stammered, almost tripping over the chair in my haste to get away.
Silas was on his feet instantly, reaching out to steady me, but the second his gloved hand touched my bare skin, a wave of desire washed over me—one that was so strong I nearly moaned on the spot.
I hopped over the tipped over chair and practically ran to the en-suite bathroom, slamming the door behind me.