Page 27 of Bitten By the Basilisk

His close-lipped smile spread a little wider. He took her helmet, walked it over to the workbench to put it down, then moved to set his beside it.

“Actually, could you hold on to yours?” she impulsively asked.

He turned toward her with an intrigued expression. “Already tired of my face?” Yet he tucked his helmet under his arm anyway and headed to the elevator.

“Not at all,” she countered, following him. “I look forward to sitting on it.”

Her bold statement brought him up short in the middle of reaching for the call button, his grunt of surprise almost as satisfying as the confounded smile he gave her, as if no one had ever been so direct with him before—and he liked it.

Even more satisfying was the subtle shift in his expression right before he punched the call button, which her intuition told her meant she was in a bit of trouble. The good kind.

As soon as the elevator opened, she found herself being dragged inside by the front of her jacket. Her heart leaped with excitement.

She didn’t see which floor Silas picked, too focused on his low-lidded gaze as he crowded her against the wall of the elevator, his tall, broad body blocking the overhead lights.

Her stomach dipped as the elevator rose, but what made her grab onto the rail behind her was seeing him pull off one of his gloves with his teeth.

“Undo your pants,” he rasped, shoving the glove into his pocket.

While her fingers fumbled to comply, he unzipped her jacket.

“If you want me to wear this,” he said, lifting his helmet slightly, “I have two conditions.”

He slipped his hand into her clothes, pushing his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties. Oh please, oh please, oh please, she chanted, every muscle tense.

“One, you sit on my face first.” Two of his fingertips unerringly slid between her lips, finding the copious evidence of her recent orgasm and current arousal. Both of them gasped.

His voice turned guttural. “So fucking wet, kitten.” He stroked her stiffened clit—once, twice… She leaned hard on the rail beneath her hands, not quite trusting her legs to support her.

“A-and two?”

“Two, you tell me exactly why you want me to wear it.”

She tried to come up with the words, but he began rubbing the entrance of her pussy, short-circuiting her thoughts, the motion making slippery sounds.

“Silas,” she softly cried, clutching at his leather sleeve.

The elevator jolted slightly, having stopped. Silas backed off, breathing heavily, his hand slipping out of her clothes. The doors slid open, and he continued backward, not breaking eye contact as he closed his lips around the fingers that had been playing with her.

“Mm,” he hummed as he drew his fingers from his mouth. “You coming, kitten?”

Not minding where his outstretched hand had just been, she grasped it with just enough time to see “PH” on the digital display before he drew her out of the elevator and directly into the entryway of his apartment—his penthouse apartment, its dimensions larger even than what she would expect of a luxury residence. Dimensions meant to fit an oversize shifter.

Only a couple of lights were on, one in a more open area to the right, where she spied a dining table and floor-to-ceiling windows beyond, another in what looked like an office straight ahead that also had quite the view. The raised floor beyond the furnished entryway was dark, unglazed tile, the walls a deep shade of blue.

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to save the tour for later.” He stood as though braced for a fight, his helmet still gripped in one hand, his chest heaving.

“Much later,” she concurred, so turned on that her knees felt shaky.

He began prying off his boots with his feet and discarded his gloves. She followed his lead, tossing her backpack onto a fancy upholstered bench and stripping off her outerwear down to her sweater, jeans, and bare feet, which discovered the main floor was heated.

Part of her sensed she was about to have the greatest sex of her life with someone whom fate had not chosen for her. Someone hot, confident, considerate, fun, and apparently rich as hell. Someone she couldn’t keep because she might one day see his red string tying him to someone else.

Unfortunately, that part of her couldn’t break the insane pull he had on her right now. In fact, if she didn’t get to spend the next hour getting her world rocked, she would march right into the water of Kennie’s cove.

Holding her hand, he led her deeper into the apartment, past ornately framed paintings and abstract gold decor, to what had to be his bedroom at the end of the hall.

He tapped a switch just inside the door, filling the tennis-court-sized room with warm, diffuse light. The far wall was another floor-to-ceiling window, the view of a cozy-looking balcony partially blocked by thick curtains.