Page 132 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Amelia knew what he was doing, and yet the words still hurt, sending a pang of pain across the centre of her chest. Her foot shifted back, arms slackening at the feeling, the blanket dipping to rest across the tops of her arms and only just covering the edges of her bra, though she didn’t care in the slightest.
Silas shifted his jaw, eyes stuttering as they looked at each other, as he took in the expression on her face.
He turned away with a muttered, “fuck.”
“I know this isn’t easy,” Amelia said in a small voice, “but it doesn’t have to be like this.”
Silas let out a rough breath. “And how should it be then, hm?” His gaze swung back to her. He moved forwards a step, reclaiming the one she had taken away from him. “Should we get closer than we already are? Should we confess all sorts of thingsabout ourselves, our pasts, just for us to be torn apart in a matter of days?” His voice rose, anger and sadness mixing as he took another step, the blue of his eyes intense. “Should I tell you how long I’ve yearned to simply benearyou, that I took projects you might be interested in over the years just in the hopes our paths may cross?” Amelia’s chest rose sharply, eyes widening. He took yet another step, almost within reach now. “Should I make it worse and confess that I think you’re the most intelligent, witty and achingly beautiful force I’ve ever known, and even if all we did was argue, those were the best moments of my damn life?”
“Finley…” Her heart pounded, body shivering beneath the blanket, but not from cold.
“Is that going to help?” Silas demanded, taking one more step that brought his warmth and scent close. He looked down at her, the fierceness still there, but his chest rose and fell unsteadily. She could sense so much more than anger radiating from him. “Is any of that going to help either of us when it boils down to it?”
Amelia closed the small distance between them, letting the blanket slip all the way down one arm so she could reach for him. She knew one side of her torso would be visible to him, but it didn’t matter. Not when he didn’t pull away this time as her fingers brushed the top of his chest. He just looked down at her, almost beseechingly.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, “but nothing about this has been easy from the very beginning. And I know myself, and you, well enough to know that we’ve never taken the easy way out. With anything.” Her hand shifted up, running over the sharpness of his collarbone until she was at the side of his warm neck, gripping there. “Why start now?”
His eyes fell shut for a moment, jaw clenching, like he was summoning control. When he reopened them, he looked at her with an intensity that thrilled her.
Amelia could not believe how wrong she had been about Silas. Everything with him, ever since their lives had become entwined through their mutual work, had always felt like a competition, each of them vying for the upper hand.
Until they had been forced to spend true, real time together. To get to know one another. Forhimto get to knowher. Parts of her that she never shared with anyone else. Because she could never have trusted anyone with the real her. Not after her parents had decided when she was so very young that her real self was not good enough. So they had forced her to be someone they deemed worthy.
Amelia had spent years trying to unlearn that belief, but it had lingered. She couldn’t help it. The distrust, not only in other people, but in trusting in herself. That she was good enough.
But this.
Silas made her feel like she was everything. More than worthy of basic empathy and kindness. But worthy of acceptance, of…love.
She swallowed, staring at him, wondering if that’s what this was. Some kind of loving feeling, even if she didn’t have a definition of exactly what that was yet.
“Winslow…”
Her thumb swept out brushing against the hollow of his throat. He swallowed.
“Finley…”
He shifted his head, like a shake or a tilt, but it told her he was searching for words, for a reason to pull away. She didn’t want that. At all.
“Amelia,” he gritted out between his teeth.
She pushed up onto her toes, bringing their faces closer together.
“Silas,” she breathed.
His breath hitched at the sound of his name, eyes changing rapidly. They sharpened, intensified. His lips parted, focus dropping to her mouth, and she knew what would happen next, that she had fractured through that control he’d been trying to wield like a weapon. Amelia needed it, needed him.
“Fuck it,” he uttered, before moving at a speed that stunned her, pulling her hand away from his neck as he took her shoulder and shifted her until she was against the wooden wall of the cottage. The hand he had removed from him was pinned against the wall next to her head, his fingers closing around her wrist resolutely. She pulled in a startled breath, his free hand circling beneath her jaw with a light pressure, forcing her head to tilt upwards as he pressed himself into her. His mouth was close to hers, their heavy breaths mingling.
His eyes stared into hers intently, like he peered into her soul.
“You wanted to know, didn’t you, Amelia?” he said roughly, fingers gripping under her jawline just a little tighter, her lungs stuttering and bottom lip falling open. “You wanted to know all of the things I’ve ever wanted to do to you?”
Her chest rose, eyes falling shut at the sensation of her hard nipples against the fabric of her bra. She felt like her skin vibrated, wanting, and needy.
“Yes,” she breathed, and she could hear it plainly in her voice, the utter desire and desperation. The need tofeelandcontroland havesomethingthat the magic could not take from them.
His exhale ghosted across her lips, his hand leaving the underside of her jaw. Before she knew what was happening, Silas had taken the edge of the blanket wrapped around her body and tugged it firmly away until it pooled at the floor by her feet.
