Page 119 of At the Mercy of Midnight
He was yanked forwards, drawn to her by the force of the bond. His body collided with hers, pressing her down into the mattress.
“Fuck,” he breathed, bracing himself with both arms as he hovered above her. “Did I hurt you?”
Amelia was motionless beneath him, her gaze locked on his. Slowly, she shook her head. “No.”
Their legs were tangled, his lower body pressing intimately against hers.
Silas shifted instinctively, ready to pull away, but her arm circled his waist.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Just stay a moment.”
He stilled.
Moonlight filtered through the window, casting soft shadows over her face. Half of her was dipped in darkness, the other lit in silver, like she existed halfway between dream and waking.
Neither spoke. Their bodies stayed pressed close, sharing warmth, breath, the weight of all unspoken things. Silas lifted a hand, brushing a dark curl from her cheek. His fingers lingered at her cheekbone, unwilling to leave her skin.
Amelia sighed, a soft, aching sound. A smile, too. Slight, but real.
The look she gave him was warm. Maybe even filled with something else, if he were to interpret the flush in her cheeks, the rise of her chest.
Shit.
Have mercy, Winslow.
His throat worked. “Should I…get you that water?” he asked, voice husky and unsure.
She shook her head.
His pulse thundered.
Slowly, Silas lowered himself to his forearms, their torsos brushing, closer now than ever. Her gaze didn’t waver.
His arousal was immediate and inescapable. She’d drawn him in from the very beginning, and now this. The way she looked at him like she might want to be devoured just as much as he wanted to devour her. It stole the breath from his lungs.
They fit together so completely, effortlessly. Yet, they had been so childish, waited so long to truly know one another.
So many wasted years.
Too late.
The warmth in his chest faltered.
Silas exhaled and pushed up again, just enough to create space. She blinked at him, confused.
“Winslow…” he said softly, “we both know how this ends.”
Her mouth opened, then closed again. She turned towards the window, thinking, before looking back. “And how is that?”
He sat back, untangling from her, placing himself at the edge of the bed. She followed slowly, sitting beside him.
“Unless we find another way,” he said, “it ends with me dying…or both of us, if we fail.”
The truth finally entered the space between them, bitter and no longer avoidable.
Amelia inhaled deeply before letting it back out again, hands fidgeting in her lap. “Okay. Say you’re right.” She looked sideways at him, jaw set with a familiar determination. “What should that have to do with right now?”
He stared at her. “Everything?”
