AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I scoff and roll my eyes, not that he can see me. “It's literally across the room. I'll be fine. Stay here and talk to your friends.” I pat his chest a couple of times, tilting my head to the Reapers standing in a loose semicircle on the other side of him.
He drags his hand across the small of my back, pressing his lips to my temple. “I'll watch you from here. That's my compromise.”
I chuckle and pull away from him. “I'll be right back.”
I'm still chuckling to myself as I weave around a long L-shaped couch packed full of people. I'm pretty sure there are some people close to fucking in the dimly-lit corner over there. I've never tried voyeurism before—well, outside of our little tryst at the drive-in.
But it's not the same as hooking up in the middle of a party like this. I'm not sure if I'd like it. But never say never and all that.
I'm busy thinking about hooking up with Nova while a certain Reaper watches and maybe joins in when a hand wraps around my bicep and pulls me into the hallway.
It's dark in here, the sconces along the walls casting a soft, almost orange glow. I trip over my feet, but his strong grip keeps me upright. For a second I think it's Nova, somehow reading my thoughts.
But then he backs me into the wall. And it's not Nova. Or even Bane.
It's Silas.
39
EVANGELINE
“What's wrong? Is Hunter okay?”It's the first thing out of my mouth. In my slightly inebriated state, it's the only reason I can come up with why he'd pull me out of there like that.
“Of course Hunter's okay,” he says it like he's offended by the simple question. Like it's a dig against him.
“Okay.” I look up at him, flattening my back against the wall behind me.
He's breathing heavily, leaning into me with a hand on either side of my head. He reminds me of one of those romantic heroes from a historical romance novel Nana Jo kept in her nightstand. All brooding and intense.
But this isn't a novel, and I'm not some swooning heroine.
Mostly.
“Then what's wrong?” My brows sink together and I scan what little of his body I can see, looking for obvious injuries. I can't imagine another reason he would be here, like this.
“What's wrong?” His voice is deceptively calm as he steps into me.
Our bodies are flush against one another from the waist down, and he's leaning his entire forearms on the wall.
My eyes lower the moment I feel his cock, thick and hard against my lower stomach. I don't really understand what the fuck is happening right now, but I'm not sure I need to.
Our bodies seem to know exactly what's going on. I arch into him on instinct, and he uses his hips to hold me still.
“What's wrong, Evangeline, is that I got ten different messages that my sweet little nanny was shaking her ass on top of my bar.”
His breath wafts over my lips, and I recognize the scent of whiskey. I bet he drinks the really expensive stuff, in a fancy glass. Probably never overindulges. He's too responsible for such frivolities.
Except for tonight it seems.
I tilt my head back to catch his gaze. I can barely see it under the shadowed cover of his ball cap.
Wordlessly, I reach up and spin it around. There, now I can see his eyes. They're angry, molten hot and dark. He looks like a man possessed, and I absently wonder if I'm seeing a side to him that he never would've willingly shown me.
Strange how alcohol can do that. In some ways, it can be freeing. But it's all an illusion. Something to lay blame on if our true desires are met with ridicule and shame.
What does Silas desire, I wonder.
“And what's wrong with dancing?” I ask.
