Page 61 of At the Mercy of Midnight
And then…the weight twitched.
Barely. But enough. Enough that it scraped softly across the table.
Amelia exhaled sharply. “Oh…”
Silas’ heart soared, wondering if it were his feeling of triumph at her success, or if it were an echo of her euphoria.
“You did it, Winslow.”
Amelia’s arm fell, head falling back to tuck under his chin. “I…didn’t think it would…”
His heart was erratic, her body nestled against him. Their fingers lay near each other's on the tabletop, and he let his thumb shift to brush the side of her hand. “You moved it.”
Silas heard her uneven breathing. “It was barely anything.”
“It was everything.”
Amelia moved her hand away, twisting to face him. He didn’t step back. The space was minimal between them as she pressed back into the table, looking up at him. “Thank you.”
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes alight. Silas thought she had never seemed more beautiful. “Of course.”
She held his eyes intently, chest moving with her heightened breathing. “I still despise you.”
Head tilting, he scrutinised her. What he saw didn’t point to loathing. His lips lifted into a smirk. “Is that so?” Silas gripped the bench’s edge next to her waist, moving to erase what little gap there had been between them. Amelia lifted a hand to his chest, resting there against his sternum. She didn’t push him away.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You’re an arrogant know-it-all.”
“Better than knowing nothing.”
Her eyes never left his, something sharp passing between them. “You talk a lot for someone who rarely says anything meaningful.”
Silas’ hand brushed against her waist, and she thrillingly pressed closer. “You’re starting to like it, though, aren’t you?”
She scoffed lightly, blush deepening. “You are so full of—”
He pressed his mouth to hers, perhaps madly, silencing her.
Silas knew he had surprised her, by the soft gasp she had released the moment before his lips met hers. He didn’t know what he might have expected next, never truly believing he would kiss her, but it wouldn’t have been what happened.
Like a match struck in a dry forest, she responded.
Her lips against his were fierce and wanting, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t soft, but hungry. She tasted like adrenaline and lingering magic.
Needing more, Silas took the sides of her waist, lifting until she sat on the edge of the worktable. Something clattered tothe ground, too easy to ignore, the heat of her body, the pressure of her mouth against his was entirely distracting.
She held him firmly at the back of his neck, a hand sweeping up into his hair and fisting there. He groaned into her mouth as he stepped closer, parting her legs, bringing them even closer.
He still wanted more.
Deepening the kiss, he explored her mouth, feeling her tongue with his own until she let out a soft, feminine moan that he knew would undo him. Silas could spend the rest of days here, moulded to her, and trying to pull more of those beautiful sounds from her throat.
She shifted against him, hips pushing into his body with delicious friction that caused him to shudder, a ripple of pleasure pulsing through his abdomen. Silas gripped at her thigh with his hand, needing more.
So much more.
And then Amelia pulled back. It was sudden, sharp, her upper body rearing back from him, eyes wide and uncertain, staring at him. Silas let her go, his breath catching as the space between them returned and he stepped quickly away.
They gaped at each other.
