Page 90 of Close Quarter
Rhys snorted. He might have found it endearing in any other circumstance.
A few moments later, Silas emerged from beneath the covers and sat up. He looked around the room before settling his gaze on Rhys. If he noted the sword--and Rhys was sure he did--he had no reaction to it. "How long have I been unconscious?"
Rhys glanced at the clock. "About a half hour."
Silas grunted, then scrubbed his face with his hands. "My apologies."
"What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was thinking," Silas said, his words all honey and heat, "that I wanted to see you writhing in ecstasy."
Rhys pressed his lips together and fought to hang on to anger, even as his cock threatened to harden.
Silas climbed out of bed, stumbled, then sat back down. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to get me a cup of coffee?"
Rhys rose, slapped a pod of French roast in the machine, stuck a mug underneath, and turned it on. "You shouldn't have." He watched the coffeemaker cycle through its brewing. "Don't get me wrong, it was the best damn fuck I've ever had, but there are more important things than sex." The machine finished.
He took the cup to Silas, then sat back down at the table. He ran a finger over the leather- wrapped handle of Silas's sword.
Something in Silas's expression flickered-- anger, embarrassment, Rhys couldn't tell. That look changed completely when he sipped his coffee. Silas frowned into the cup. "I knew you'd be angry, but not this angry." He sighed but sipped again.
"Think of it as penance for being a complete idiot." Irritation faded as he studied the blade of the sword. Faint knot work twisted up the middle channel of the blade. He'd missed that before. "It really was the best sex I've ever had."
"Good. Now I have a bar to rise above."
Good God.Rhys shifted in his chair, his balls tightening at the thought of Silas outdoing his performance. "Doesn't mean you're not dumb for exhausting yourself."
Silas placed the mug on the side table next to the bed, then stood. This time he remained standing. "An extra half hour unconscious won't make a difference. By sunset, I'll have recovered as much as I would have otherwise."
"And had Anax-bastard shown up?"
"Anax--" Silas cut himself off with a chuff of laughter, then sobered. "Yes, fucking you was a risk. But then so was sleeping. Had Anaxandros come during either, we'd both be dead."
He had a point there. "I just don't want to see you the worse for wear because of me." There were no scars on Silas that he could see, no sign of injury. But his sun-kissed skin was a shade too ashen.
"I'm alive because of you."
Rhys sipped his coffee as cover for the sudden ache in his chest and throat. It didn't help.
"So, what now?"
Silas wore his patented thoughtful look.
Rhys shook his head. "We're so not having sex again. Not now."
Silas waved the words away. "There are other things I can show you. But first I need to shower." With that, he strode across the cabin and disappeared into the bathroom.
Other things. Rhys chewed on those words and finished his coffee while he waited.Whatother things?
In short order, Silas emerged smelling of almond soap. He dressed--tweed pants with a black belt and a green button-down shirt, which he tucked in. The man looked like some hot-as-sin accountant. The clothes might be corporate, but Silas would never look like a pencil pusher.
"Now come here. And bring my sword."
A voice like bourbon, velvet and rich with a bite at the end. He must still have been miffed at the whole sword thing. Rhys rose, picked up the sword, and joined Silas.
"What do you think of it?" Silas gestured at the blade.
"It's lighter than I expected." Rhys twisted his wrist, moving the blade a few inches. "It feels like I'm cutting air."
