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He dropped his free hand on my knee, warming.
He sat back again with a sigh, settling further into the seat and resting his head back. “Or we could just do this. I’m good with this.”
I leaned against his chest, finding it a muscled cushion. “You’re not going to get bored, are you?”
He chuckled. He drew quiet. Curled up into him, I started gazing out the far passenger side window. If I focused, I could make out a few details of the cotton field and the road. While there was a slight chill, sitting in his lap was warm enough. His body produced an amazing amount of heat.
“Sang?”
“Yes, Silas?”
He drummed his fingers on my knee. “Why’d the monkey fall out of the tree?”
I cracked a smile. “Don’t know.”
“Because it was dead.”
I giggled against his chest.
“That’s not good enough,” he said. He shifted underneath me. “That’s not a laugh. Why did the chicken cross the road?”
I knew the obvious, but expected something just as absurd as his first joke. “Don’t know.”
“To get to the other side,” he said in a voice that was about as serious as him asking me what the homework was for class.
I snickered, giggled louder and clutched at his shirt. Maybe his jokes were really lame and obvious but it was the way he said them that made it funny.
His fingers slid across my knee cap, dropping until he curled them underneath my thigh at the soft spot under my knee. He traced his fingertips across my skin. “We’re getting there,” he said as he tickled.
I choked out a short laugh, trying to smack his arm gently to get him to stop. “Silas.”
“I just want to hear you laugh.” His hand drifted over and dropped onto my stomach. His fingers sought out my side.
I inhaled sharply, not expecting the touch. They’d all gripped me from nearly head to toe, including around my waist and my stomach, but his fingers spilled out across my lower abdomen. As the tips traced below my belly button, sparks shot out through me, electrifying my skin in a completely different way than I was expecting.
“Hello,” he said. His fingers slid from my side and back to my belly button. “What’s this?” I thought he was suggesting he found a soft, more sensitive place to tickle, and I had stopped giggling to hide it. He curled his fingers there, stroking. Through my shirt, his fingers were warm, but the same sparks extended through me, reaching over every surface until a gentle tremble came over me.
My eyes shut on their own. My hands shot out, gripping his arm but not directing. The feeling was surprising. It reminded me of how I felt when Nathan had started biting my fingers, or when Kota nuzzled at my neck—only the feeling was so strong and I couldn’t hide it. My breath escaped me in a soft moan.
“Sang,” he breathed out, slowing his fingers.
I buried my face into his chest, embarrassed and unable to respond.
His breath fell heavy against my hair. His fingers stopped and he pressed his palm against my abdomen. It was soothing but his palm against the area still left me feeling warm and tingly. “I didn’t know,” he whispered. Was he apologizing?
I released his arm, not realizing I’d been hanging on to it still. “Silas,” I whispered. I clutched at his shirt again.
His hands shifted to my side and he sat up more in his seat. He released me and his palm found my cheek. “I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
His finger tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, but the strand fell back into my face. “Do you remember the party? When you and North were in that closet?”
As if I could forget. “Yes.”
“I think about it. Sometimes I wish I’d been in there with you.”
The meaning around his words hung in the air over us. “You’re here with me now,” I said in a soft voice.
His fingers stayed at the spot behind my ear. “I’m not sure I should be here with you like this.”
“Why not?”
He sucked in a sharp breath. He shifted underneath me again. His arm behind me held me up. He turned me toward him. His face was cast with a silvery glow of the low moon shining through the windshield. His eyes bore down into my face. His thick lips parted, moving slightly as if he’d wanted to say something but the words weren’t forming. He swallowed hard. His eyes zeroing in on my face. “Say it, Sang,” he commanded.
“Hm?” I mumbled, unsure.
“I can see it in your eyes,” he said. He kept a hand on my hip, holding me down in his lap. My back was against the steering wheel. His other hand drifted up, his palm warming my face again, but holding me in a way that forced me to look at him. “I can’t stand it. You want something. Tell me.”
“Silas?” I had no idea what I wanted.
He grunted. His fingers clutched tighter at my head as he lowered his face closer to mine. His breath teased my cheek. “Show me what it was like in that closet.” I was gripping at the undershirt on his chest to hold my balance against him. He released my face to find one of my hands and he brought it up until my fingers covered his lips. “Was it like this?” he asked through my fingers.
I started to nod.
“Tell me, aggele mou,” he pleaded under his breath. His eyes swallowed me up, bearing down on me. “Please. Anything. Did you tell him to kiss you like this?”
My heart thundered against my eardrums. “The others outside were egging us on,” I whispered, wondering if he even heard me. “He didn’t want to at first. But I put my fingers on his mouth.” I swallowed, holding back a warm shiver as his eyes never left mine. “I—.”
“Show me.”
I trembled now, unsure. My fingers pressed against his mouth, and he remained still, but his eyes were everywhere, begging me to do what he asked. I knew I was blushing, feeling awkward. It was like trying to hit Kota when he wasn’t hitting me back during training. Compared to North in the closet when I felt pressured to do it, here with nothing to egg me on except Silas and his eyes that were consuming me.
I counted off from three in my head to fake some courage and get myself to do it.
I leaned up, lifting to hover in his lap so I could reach my fingers at his mouth. My eyes closed. I touched my own fingers with my lips, pressing.
His lips below my fingers puckered. Silas kissed my fingertips. His mouth parted slightly, wetting my skin.
I remained still for a moment, and slowly started to back off. I was surprised to find myself breathing heavily as if I’d been running.
Silas’s eyes opened into narrow slits. “Aggele mou. He had you against the wall.”
I nodded slowly. I couldn’t find my voice. My throat was thick.
Silas leaned forward. He held me at the hip still, holding on to me while his other hand found my neck, cupping it in a gentle embrace. He pushed me slightly until my back was against the steering wheel.
I drew my hand back, dropping the tips of my fingers against my lips, like I’d done with North.
Silas lowered his head. His eyes closed. His lips met my fingers. With his hand at my neck, he held me in place firmly. He pressed his lips harder against my fingers.
The sparks returned, shooting from his lips, through my fingers and down into my chest, zeroing in on my thudding heart. I trembled under his touch. I wasn’t sure how to respond. The best I could do was hold my fingers up between us.
And, not for the first time, I wanted to let go and not have that barrier.
His lips parted again, and his mouth moved against my knuckles.
The hand at my hip slid over. His thumb stretched out until he rubbed at a spot just below my belly button.
I gasped against my fingers. I was losing it. My nose filled with his ocean scent. His warm fingers on my body were luring me to surrender. His kiss made silent promises.
Silas grasped at the side of my neck, massaging. He held me strongly before breaking the kiss, pulling back only a fraction of an inch. His dark eyes peered down a
t me, half closed.
His fingers traced again across my lower belly as he whispered. “Aggele mou, makári na boroúsa na se filí_so_.”
“Silas,” I mumbled.
But before I could ask what he’d said, his hand at my neck released me, and he took my hand from my mouth. He held it in his, drawing it away, until there wasn’t anything left between us except our mingling breaths.
He leaned in, his head tilted. His lips hovered over mine.
I sucked in a breath. My mind wanted to think of what this meant, but my heart had taken over and wouldn’t allow me to find an excuse to stop it or worry about what it meant. Silas was there in front of me. I cared about him. If he was going to be my first kiss, and this was how it happened, I wouldn’t be sorry.
But he didn’t move. He remained still, hovering, waiting, as if trying to decide.
He was so close. I wasn’t sure what to do. If I moved forward, it would be like I was kissing him first. Was that how it was going to happen? Did he stop because he wasn’t sure he wanted to?
I eased back a little, wanting to look up at him just in case something was wrong.
My back met with the steering wheel. The horn blared, loud and nearly echoing in what had been so silent a space a moment ago. The sudden blaring startled me so badly, I jumped forward, knocking my forehead into his nose.
“Ow.” Silas backed up, releasing my hand to cup his nose. “Shit.”
