His hand dropped away, and I scurried out of the room, closing the door behind me and leaning against it with a sigh.
Why did I think staying here was a good idea? Somehow, even the clean sheets I’d scavenged from the closet carried Silas’s scent, not to mention the enormous T-shirt that cascaded halfway down my thighs and had a little hole by the neck.
I twisted in my sheets, hot one minute and cold the next. For about thirty minutes, I worried I may have caught whatever bug he had, but sleep did eventually come to claim me. In my dreams, I held Silas’s hand as he walked me to a Victorian-style home and handed me a key. The house was empty except for an enormous, plush rug that felt pillowy under my back. As Silas fucked me on the rug, Cole and Ezra came in and stood watching by the door.
I gasped awake, my core spasming from an orgasm. Turning on my side, I bit the pillow, stifling a moan. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never come from a dream before.
“That sounded like a good time.”
I spit out the pillow and craned my neck. Silas was leaning against the kitchen island wearing only sweat pants. Steam rose above the coffee mug between his palms while he watched me have my little episode.
“Shit. Fuck.”
“I hope there was a lot of the latter and none of the former in your dream,” he said with an amused smile before taking a sip.
My face hit the pillow, and I let out an embarrassed groan. “Shut up. I can’t control my dreams.”
“Yeah. Neither can I,” he added, lifting his boulder-like shoulders and looking away.
“How are you feeling?” I whipped the covers off and walked towards him, doing my best to keep my eyes off his sculpted chest.
“Better.”
“Let me feel your head.”
He obliged, craning at his waist to lower toward me. His skin was a little clammy, but not nearly as hot as last night.
Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall above his shoulder, I saw it was nine am. I knew I should leave. He was recovering and didn’t need a sitter, but at the same time, there was nothing waiting for me at home. I had seven hours until I was due at the bar, and everything in me rebelled at the thought of spending those hours alone in my empty house.
Silas straightened up and cleared his throat, making me realize I’d been touching his forehead for far too long.
“Sorry.” I dropped my hand. “I should probably go.”
He placed his mug down on the kitchen island. “Only if you want to. I wouldn’t mind some company if you have nothing else to do.”
I stared at my bare feet. He seemed to be in a much better mood than last night, and I knew he wouldn’t invite me to hang out if he didn’t mean it.
The sudden realization that I was standing in front of him in only his T-shirt and a pair of underwear made me flush.
“Okay, I’ll stay.”
His eyes flickered down to my legs, and this simple action sent a thrill up my spine. He looked sinfully handsome in the morning, raw and undone from having just woken up. I hurried to grab my jeans off the couch and headed to get dressed in the bathroom.
When I came out, pants on this time, Silas was wearing a loose tank top and was scrolling on his phone.
“I’m ordering breakfast. What do you feel like?”
“Seriously? I can make us breakfast.”
He raised a brow. “I have butter, an old banana, and a dozen different types of sauces in the fridge. You’d need to be Harry Potter to make something with that.”
I grimaced. “Okay. Fair point.”
“Plus, how can you say no to breakfast burritos from Poco Loco?”
I pretended to think for a second. “You’re right. I can’t. I have a soul.” Poco Loco had the best burritos in town, and I hadn’t had one in ages.
We managed to get through two episodes ofModern Familyby the time the food arrived. I wolfed down my burrito and leaned back against the couch, letting out a satisfied moan.
