Page 38 of Relapse

“I burn for you,” he rasped, his fingers angling my face upwards into his. My hands traced the plains of his chest through his shirt, wishing I could remove the boundary between our skins. So that I could feel his body on mine. So he could consume me.

“Have me. Fuck me. I’m yours.”

We crashed into one another. The feeling of his lips and tongue against mine was euphoric. I couldn’t help the noises I made in the back of my throat, eager to take in more of him. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss greedily, moaning into my mouth. It was a frantic clash of teeth, lips and tongue. I tangled my hands into his hair, feeling like he was the only piece tethering me to this Earth.

I pulled back from him and he growled, hands clasping either side of my head tightly, trying to reel me in again.

“You’re so hard already,” I teased, reaching my hand down between his thighs. He was shifting beneath me, trying to adjust the bulge in his pants. “I’m what you need.”

“More than you know,” he rasped. His fingers locked behind my hair. “It’s you. I want you. More than you know.”

I let my eyes wander to his. Those words took me back. Back to the first time we ever had sex. Something new lit inside me, and briefly, I wondered if he remembered them too.

Rapping came quickly on my side of the window, without warning.

“Mr. Hansen? Mr. Hansen, how’s your dad?”

The voice was jarring, like the sound a stretched balloon makes right before the pop. I jumped and Silas jolted back from me, guiding me back against the seat and severing our connection.

I hadn’t even seen the guy approach, but his hands were cupping his eyes, face smashed against the window of the car like a fat kid drools over cakes from outside the glass of a dessert shop.

Paparazzi.

How did this even happen on a regular night? After taking a quick survey around, I understood why.

We were stopped at a red light, caught in the thick of traffic. Silas’s driver had taken a shortcut to Pinnacle that cut right through the busy nightlife district, and the Royce was impossible to miss. Crowds of people crossing the street or bar hopping stopped to get a good look, pointing at the car excitedly.

I sighed, leaning my head back against the seat. Money always got poor people up in arms. To the point where one of them grew enough balls to actually come up to the window to try and bother us. I waved my hands towards the window, hoping the annoying pest would get off my dick.

Instead, the little bastard started to bombard me with questions through the glass.

“How are the Thornes? Are you reconciling? Is that young Mr. Thorne in there with you?”

I clenched my fists tightly against my sides and ignored him. But he continued.

“Silas? Silas, did you or your father Jace witness the Chief’s stabbing?”

A camera surfaced now, the man bravely pressing the lens against the window. I was stunned. Was he filming us?

Instantly, my lip curled in disgust. “Ah, this shithead.”

“Noah…” my name rolled off of Silas’s tongue in a stern caution.

“Silas, did you know that several Thornes in your family are under investigation? Do you know who attacked the Chief? Or maybe… did you stab him?”

My eyes widened and darted from Silas to the idiot at the window. How could someone even begin to make such an allegation so boldly? Within a split second, my temper detonated, the fuse burning faster than a lit match ignited gasoline.

“This is a fucking joke,” I scoffed, already rolling down the window.

Silas’s hands did not move fast enough to stop me. “Noah!”

“Listen asswipe,” I growled, the black muzzle of the camera coming dangerously close to my nose. “Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

“You haven’t answered any of them, Mr. Hansen. Is your father okay?”

“He’s fine,” I snapped.

“Does your family know you’re spending time with the Thornes despite their potential involvement in his attack?”