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“Is that it? You don't want me but you don't want anyone else to want me either?” I grit my teeth, straining against his hold just a little. The pressure is doing weird things to my brain, sparking arousal low in my belly. “No. That's not it,” I say, shaking my head. “Then you must not think I'm good enough for them.”
“Quiet, Evangeline,” he hisses, almost baring his teeth at me.
“That's it, isn't it? You don't think I'm good enough for them. And every time I wrap my lips around their cocks and take them as deep—”
He slams his mouth to mine, stealing the rest of my words. I don't move for a second, quite literally stunned into silence.
36
EVANGELINE
He pulls back. “Jesus fuck.”
“What the hell was that?” I mutter, swiping my tongue along my bottom lip to chase the taste of him.
He's breathing heavily, like he just ran a race and not simply kissed me. I see it then, the instant regret flashing across his face. His eyes shuttering, his features closing down.
Panic claws at my chest at the idea of him retreating. And so, I push him again.
“Is that all you got?” I taunt, looking at him from underneath my lashes.
“I know what you're doing,” he grits out between his clenched teeth. “And it's not going to work.”
I don't even know what I'm doing, so I find that very hard to believe. All I know is that this can't be it. That single kiss isn't nearly enough to satisfy my curiosity and craving of Silas St. James.
I arch a brow, leaning forward to remind him that his hand is still around my throat, his thumb running lazy strokes of affection over my pulse point.
“Kiss me, Silas,” I demand softly.
He doesn't answer me or move, his dark brown eyes almost black, wild in the limited light inside the garage. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, beating a wild rhythm that belongs to him alone.
“Fuck it,” he murmurs before he slams his lips to mine.
This kiss is different, deeper and hungrier. It's exactly how I imagined. His lips are hard and demanding as his tongue explores my mouth with an expertise I wasn't expecting.
It feels like so much more than a kiss. It feels like a primal declaration. A claiming.
His grip on my throat tightens, and I shift my thighs together as I feel myself start to get wet.
From a goddamn kiss.
He tilts my head, adjusting the angle to deepen it. I moan into his mouth, my hands finding their way to his hair, gripping it tight. His free hand slides between my ass and the edge of the counter behind me, curving around to palm my asscheek. He tilts my hips toward him, pressing his thickening cock against my stomach.
Jesus Christ he feels big though.
I make some noise in the back of my throat, a cross between surprise and desire.
He pulls back suddenly, keeping his hand around the base of my neck but putting distance between us. His eyes have this wild look in them, like he's on the precipice of something.
“Fuck. That—that was a mistake,” he says, his voice low and gruff.
I shake my head slowly, disappointment thick on the back of my tongue. I sigh, still panting to catch my breath from that kiss—that mistake of his. I look over his shoulder and sink into the counter behind me.
“Don't worry about it, Silas. Nova and Bane will take care of me later. Maybe even together.”
I watch his expression change as he takes in my words. He looks almost pained, like he's struggling. I know I might feel bad about it later, for pushing him so far. But part of me feels justified. He's short and cold one minute, and then the next, he's saving my grandmother's furniture.
He cocks his head to the side and shuffles forward a step. The thin athletic shorts he's wearing do absolutely nothing to conceal his hardening cock. He steps into my space, sinking his face into my neck to whisper, “You're going to let them take care of my mess?”
