Page 44 of Relapse

Be honest, I urged myself. It was easier to lie and keep secrets.

“Because…I know you don’t want to be…here.” I gestured around the room.

“Your office?” he asked cutely.

“No, Noah. Christ. Not the office. Here.” I slammed my fist against the desk next to him. “On this slab of a planet. I know you wish that sometimes you weren’t…alive.”

Noah was startled and he looked away from me swiftly. I worried instantly that I had gone too far. How do I mediate? How do I fix crossing a boundary? Did I cross a boundary?

Why do I even fucking care about boundaries? Shit.

“Why does that scare you, oh mighty businessman?” Noah finally murmured, his voice low and haunting, like a ghost already spiraling above our heads. His tone was thick with longing and something else I couldn’t decipher.

My chin inclined to the side, trying to capture the train of his gaze, when he looked back up to me, adding with a smirk, “Or should I say, mobster?”

I wanted to laugh, but something inside of me told me not to. My mind was reminding me that Noah was distancing from my original comment. He was disassociating, using humor and sarcasm to try and avoid the seriousness behind what I had admitted to him.

So, I didn’t laugh, even as he eased me back by the shoulders, swinging a leg over the edge of my desk, propping himself up and settling himself adorably in front of me. He did it so casually, confidently, like he owned the place and was just getting comfortable. We were eye level to one another now, and he was perched like a prize for the taking. Absolutely irresistible.

“Hmm, Godfather?” he joked, trying to get a rise from me. His hands maneuvered to my tie yet again, his fingers working that familiar trick—a gentle tug forward that always brought our lips together.

I restrained myself in this kiss. I pulled away, rather quickly, trying to steady myself with another deep breath. My head was still swimming with colors and dark shadows that consumed the air around me. I knew they weren’t actually there, but I felt them, could sense them all around me.

“It scares me because…” There was a lump in my throat. “Because, I can’t lose you.”

I eyed Noah skeptically, waiting for his reaction. I had said it. I needed him here. I wanted him to myself. As close to forever as I could. If it hadn’t been made clear with my actions, maybe he would understand my words.

‘I can’t lose you’, meant so much more to me, and I wondered if he’d read in between the lines or I’d have to spell it out for him.

I need you.

I want you.

I …

I couldn’t bring myself to say it. But fuck, it was there. I could recognize it now.

It always has been.

I wondered… Does he feel it too?

Or am I fucking delusional—lost in his midnight ocean eyes—shipwrecked?

“Silas,” he murmured, unable to look at me.

Fuck. I crossed a line. This was the line. I was going to lose him—I could feel it. After this, it couldn’t be normal anymore between us. Not like it was normal to begin with. This would be my final moments with Noah as mine. He could handle my crime, my rough and callous nature. He could handle the fact that I killed someone in cold blood. Hell, he could even joke about it with me.

But feelings? Fuck, I should’ve known. Feelings were the line that Noah wouldn’t cross.

So, how the hell did he make me cross them? And why the fuck did he seem so unaffected by this?

I scoffed, rising to my feet, “Do you want to know how I killed him?”

This caught Noah’s attention. He observed me as I waltzed around to the front of my desk, rummaging through the drawers. I didn’t wait for his response, instead, I lifted a gun out of a velvet case and held it up for him to see. I rotated it for his view.

“With one of these. Just a little bigger.”

Noah was no stranger to weapons, so I doubted this display would frighten him. His whole family used weapons on the force and I was almost certain someone had taught Noah how to load and manage a gun himself.