Page 52 of Man of Lies

His fingers were curled loosely around my neck, strong and callused and impossible to ignore. Not squeezing—just a reminder. His weight trapping me, the scent of smoke and leather, and the glittering dark of his eyes...it all left my body primed for sex.

I hated this. Hated him.

But most of all, I hated how betrayed I felt when we’d made no promises.

His gaze was fixed on the pulse pounding beneath my jaw, and I forced myself to swallow. “You were having so much fun with that woman’s tongue down your throat,” I said flatly. “Figured I’d try playing around myself.”

When Silas looked at me, it wasn’t with his usual half-lidded amusement. His gaze was colder and flatter than I’d ever seen, as if I were a problem he hadn’t decided how to solve.

“Have you forgotten the rules already?” he asked softly. “We agreed to keep this simple. No interference. No pretending either of us gives a damn what the other does when we’re not fucking.” His thumb brushed against the bottom of my jaw, tilting my head back just enough to remind me who was in control. “Unless you’re looking to change that.”

I didn’t move, not out of stubbornness, but because I was so damn tired. My body ached from a constant barrage of work and stress. It had all drained me more than I’d realized. I was running on fumes, and I didn’t have the energy to fight the one thing I wanted more than anything.

Stupidly, what I wanted most…was Silas.

Not just the sex. I wanted that desperately, but it was just a distraction. I needed more than that, even if I didn’t know how to name it yet. It was his steadiness, his confidence in the chaos. I craved something that felt solid. Somethingreal. Something that couldn’t slip through my fingers like everything else in my life. I wanted to reach for him and not feel like an idiot for doing it.

But that wasn’t how this worked.

Because, in the end, I didn’t trust him. I trusted only my brothers, a trust earned through blood and years of proven loyalty. Silas had never earned that from me. All that charm only told me he was a master manipulator, a man who could make anyone bend to his will with a well-timed grin and a few carefully chosen words. And I’d walked right into it, signing myself up for a contract with no strings or expectations. Just relief.

It should have worked.

Rules always made sense. They were the framework I needed to keep from losing myself in things never meant to last. But here I was, wedged between Silas and the wall, seething with silent fury because I’d dared to want something more.

The problem wasn’t the rules.

The problem was that I’d been naïve enough to think they’d be sufficient.

“I remember exactly what we agreed,” I said hoarsely. “I just didn’t think it would feel like this.”

The air between us changed the moment the words left my mouth—and still, I didn’t take them back.

Silas searched my face with those dark, unreadable eyes. His fingers loosened, and he stopped touching me, resting his palm against the brick beside my head. He hung his head and chuckled, as if he’d finally gotten the punchline to some long, drawn-out joke at his own expense.

“Yeah,” he rasped, mouth curving in the ghost of a smile. “Tell me about it.”

When he raised his eyes to mine, it knocked the breath out of me. The teasing gleam I’d come to anticipate was gone. There was nothing slick or practiced about those dark, heavy-lidded eyes now, just something raw and reckless that made my stomach clench.

“Why her?” I forced out between clenched teeth. “Why now? With me in the back room.”

A muscle ticked in Silas’s cheek. His jaw flexed, like he was carefully picking through his words, as if the honest answer was on the back of his tongue, but he couldn’t offer it.

“You’re the only one I want, blue eyes,” he said gruffly. “But it’s not about what I want.”

What else could it be about?

“I want to kiss you,” I admitted hoarsely, squeezing the words out of my tight throat. “But I’m afraid you’ll taste likeher.”

Silas took a slow breath, his chest rising and falling just enough to pull my focus there. Even without touching me, he felt too close. I could taste the whiskey on his breath, smoky and sharp, mixing with the scent of leather and motor oil. He smelled like late nights and bad decisions, like a man who lived in places most people only passed through.

It hurt, wanting someone like this.

He brushed his fingers across my jaw, tilting my chin up. His gaze never left mine, tracking every flicker in my expression, watching each reaction before he laid a hand on me, as if the wait was part of the pleasure.

At first, his kiss barely touched my lips, featherlight, and gone before I could chase it. Then again, a fleeting touch, softer than the first. With every touch-and-go sweep of his mouth, my stomach tightened.

My hands twitched at my sides, aching to touch him, but fear had me in a chokehold. A quiet, wrecked sound slipped free before I could swallow it.

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