Page 14 of Savage Hearts

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall.

It still didn’t seem real that this was now my reality.

I was sure the reality of it would hit me tomorrow morning, and I would probably lose it. But for now, all I could think of was that I was expected to share a bed with a man who infuriated me as much as he scared the shit out of me.

He knocked on the door once, and I jumped away, glaring at it.

“Hurry up, Mila. Or I’m coming in there and carrying you to bed myself.”

I threw the towel off my body, avoided my eyes in the mirror, and quickly pulled on the shirt.

It went down to mid-thigh. I looked like a little kid playing with her dad’s clothes.

I opened the door and turned off the light a little harsher than I meant to.

Silas was already in bed.

He was shirtless.

“Are you naked under there?” I asked, my eyes wide.

I refused to climb into bed if he was. He didn’t answer me, only patted what I assumed was my side of the bed.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’ve been easy on you, Mila. But let me remind you that there is an end to my patience and you’re treading on the line.”

I debated whether I should push him. The challenge in his eyes decided it for me as I climbed into bed, pulling the covers over myself and staying as far away from him as possible.

He turned off the light, bathing the room in darkness save for the city light that came through the sheer white curtains hanging above the enormous window.

I focused my eyes on that, unsure of what I was supposed to do next.

How could he possibly think I could go to sleep with him when I was so aware of his body?

Silas shifted, and I tensed as he snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me to the middle of the bed, close to his warm body.

He snuggled closer to me, and I struggled, trying to fight him off.

My elbow connected with his side and he grunted before positioning his hands once more, one cupping my breast through the shirt and one between my legs. The shirt had ridden up far enough that I could feel a part of his hand on me.

I stilled, my breathing turning erratic as fear kept me immobile.

“Let go of me,” I begged.

“Behave and go to sleep.”

“How am I supposed to sleep when you’re?—”

He squeezed my breast. “You’ve done it before.”

Memories of us lying in this exact position teased my memory, but that had been different.

Burying his face in the back of my neck, he said, “Sleep, Mila.”

“Silas.”

“Fuck, but my name on your lips will be the death of me. I fucking love hearing it.”

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