Page 32 of Man of Lies

I curled my fingers into fists on top of my thighs, desperately struggling to ground myself. “I figured we’d be headed back to your place.”

“I live above the Dead End.” Silas’s growl vibrated against my throat, and his thumbs slipped beneath my waistband. “Drama there never quits. I closed up early, but there’s always some drunk bastard wandering the parking lot. I’m not taking any chances of getting interrupted this time.”

“So you picked a public place?” I asked, sharper than I’d intended. It was hard not to sound incredulous when he had both hands under my shirt and the fabric worked halfway up my chest.

His chuckle pulled a shiver up my spine. “You worried we’re gonna get caught?”

“We’re not exactly in the middle of nowhere.” But it felt like it. Right now, it felt like we were the only two people on the planet. “I like following the rules, you know. I made a whole career out of it.”

“Maybe that’s why you keep coming back to me. Tell me, counselor…” One hand slipped around the small of my back, dragging me hard against the slow grind of his hips. His grin was close to sinful. “How bad do you want to break the rules with me right now?”

I didn’t trust myself to answer, but Silas didn’t need it. My pulse gave me away.

His mouth curled against my throat. “That’s what I thought.”

Then his mouth crashed over mine. No warm-up or warning, just full-throttle hunger that almost matched my own. Almost. I kissed him back, matching the thrust of his tongue, opening up for him until the world narrowed to the taste of his mouth and scrape of his stubble against my chin.

He broke away just long enough to rip my shirt over my head, exposing my steaming skin to the night air. His palm skated possessively down my chest, right over my pounding heart, mapping muscle and bone like it belonged to him.

“Not what I expected under all those suits,” he murmured, tracing the cut of my stomach. “You hide this on purpose?”

I clenched my teeth against the rush of heat flooding my groin. “Never saw the point in showing off.”

Silas let out a low sound that might’ve been a laugh—or a growl. His hand slipped beneath my waistband, gliding over the length of my aching cock.

“You’re already hard,” he rasped, dragging the callused pad of his thumb over the swollen head. “Good. I don’t plan on taking this slow.”

I groaned, dropping my head and staring down at the hand moving inside my pants. His touch was maddening: light and precise and utterly fucking useless. Toying when I needed claiming.

“If you’re just going to tease, don’t bother touching me at all,” I gritted between clenched teeth.

He stilled, fingers going lax around my shaft before retreating completely. His heat lingered even after he pulled back, leaving me aching and unsatisfied, and then—like he was purposely trying to break me—he pulled away entirely. Leaning backward on his seat and propping his elbows on the handlebar, raking his eyes over my body with lazy amusement.

“Go on then, pretty boy. Show me how you want it.”

My spine snapped straight, and the bike rocked beneath us. Silas’s legs kept the kickstand steady, but I was two seconds away from launching off the bike and kicking it out from under him.

“I don’t play games, Silas. I don’t have the patience.” It came out splintered and angry. “So if that’s what this is?—”

“It’s not,” Silas interrupted, unblinking. No grin this time. No smooth deflection. Just his eyes, locked on mine, serious as aheart attack. “It’s not a game,” he repeated, softer now, and as serious as I’d ever heard him. “But it’s all I’ve got to give you.”

Fair enough. I’d agreed to the terms. Hell, I’d drawn them up. Keep it simple. Keep it clean. But as I sat there, with his heat still lingering on my skin, something restless and unsatisfied stirred deep within. I missed his touch, and I resented the void it left behind.

For once, I wanted someone else to carry the weight. I’d been holding the line all my life, plugging leaks, keeping the house of cards from collapsing. First with Ben, then Gage, and then the whole goddamn Beaufort family.

I was tired.

Silas wasn’t offering to carry any weight. Not really. I wasn’t stupid enough to mistake a hand at my throat for anything real. But I wanted the illusion too badly to walk away. If all he could give me was this, I’d take it.

I’d take him—any way I could get him.

He caught the change in my eyes the moment it happened, and the smile that flickered across his face was filled with approval. He stayed where he was, lounging like a king, legs spread, waiting for me to step into the part I’d decided to play.

“Do it,” he commanded.

This time, it wasn’t a request. It was the price of admission.

Chapter Fifteen

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