Like something was coming.
A dull threat on the horizon.
Each of them ready for all hell to break loose.
Or maybe because of the lifestyle they lived, that was just the way they always were, and it had nothing to do with my situation.
But there was something about the way Silas hovered over me that told me that wasn’t quite right.
Metal and power tools echoed through the walls, a muddle of warped voices and indistinct conversations that carried as I studied an invoice then inputted the numbers into the correct column.
A shiver rocked over me when the door between the shop and office swept open behind me, the same way it did every time Silas came into the room.
I wanted it to be a reaction to the fear I should feel.
Nope.
In its place was shimmery anticipation.
A buzz of energy that slashed and struck, lifting the fine hairs at the nape of my neck.
Silas’s footsteps were long yet slowed, his boots thudding on the dingy floor, and my stomach twisted as I felt the overwhelming weight of his presence ease up to me from behind.
His breath fluttered a piece of my hair over my cheek as he reached around and set a plate covered in foil on the desk.
“Eat.”
Coarse, raspy care.
Bossy to the extreme.
King.
“I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Meems had already stuffed me before I came into work this morning.
Eggs and bacon and toast dripping with butter and homemade jam.
His chuckle was scraping and low, and God, my stupid belly did a thousand flips. “Pretty sure you’re going to want a taste of what’s under there.”
“You think you know me so well.”
It was a quiet taunt.
Begging him for the attention.
“I think I’m figuring it out.” His fingertips lightly trailed up the opposite side of my jaw, scattering goosebumps as they went.
One of those safe touches that I pretended didn’t mean anything.
The profile of his face just came into view in my periphery on the other side.
So close.
Smelling like an old-fashioned at ten-thirty in the morning.
Dang it, was that scent addictive.
