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I drop the dress on the floor, and acknowledge I’d have to be blind not to look. Ophelia Hart is fucking beautiful. She’s mostly naked in my bed, and I am a man.
She’s slender, her skin pale and soft. A tiny gemsparkles on her belly button. It’s her only piercing apart from her ears. I know because the panties she’s wearing are delicate white lace and she’s shaved bare.
My gaze falls on the slit of her pussy, making my cock stir.
I clear my throat and try to remind myself who she is. I try hard not to let myself wonder how she’d feel to the touch. How she’d taste.
As if hearing my thoughts, she stirs, mutters something, turns on her side. She burrows into the blanket and draws one knee up, giving me a view of that gorgeous ass, the thong nothing more than a string between soft, round cheeks.
“Fuck me.” I adjust myself because I’d love to spread those cheeks and… I groan, turn away.
This is Ophelia Hart, Cruz. Get it fucking together.
Except that she’s no longer the awkward girl from next door. There’s nothing awkward about her now.
I turn away, cross the room to the dresser. I keep some clothes in the house here just because it’s easier when I’m back and forth. I take out one of my sweatshirts and carry it to the bed.
“Let’s get this on you so I can get my fucking dick under control,” I mutter to myself as I sit on the edge of the bed and lift her again. This time, when I do, she opens her eyes and blinks several times, her pupils coming into focus. She smiles, then leans into me and I think she’s going to close them again, but I’m surprised when she kisses my cheek, then my neck.
Those kisses, feather light, make me shudder.
“Silas,” she says, meeting my eyes, hers not quite sleepy. They burn a deep amber.
“Hey,” I say, brushing hair back from her face.
“You smell the same.”
Her eyelids close as she kisses me again, this time on my lips. I take her elbows, surprised. Her hands wrap around my biceps.
I know what I should do. I should push her away, break it off.
This,her, here in my bed, it’s dangerous. But when she moans against my mouth, I set one hand at the back of her head and kiss her back because it is all I can do.
There’s something about Ophelia Hart, some string between us that’s always been there in some form, different now that she’s a woman. I feel the tug of it, the draw to her.
I have never been interested in any woman beyond a night, a week, two at most. I don’t know if it’s that I feel protective of Ophelia or somehow connected to her given our shared past, but I just know with her, everything feels different.
I want her. And it’s not to take her away from Ethan. He doesn’t matter. No, this thing, it’s as though she feels like she’s mine. Like she’s for me.
I groan.
“O.” I force myself to draw back. “You’re drunk.”
She shakes her head, pulls me down when I maketo get up. She touches the scar on my temple then caresses my cheek and smiles softly up at me.
“Silas?”
“Ophelia.”
“Stay with me.”
My gaze moves to her bare breasts before shifting back to those soft, pretty eyes. Sad eyes. It’s those sad eyes that keep me from walking out of the bedroom.
She leans up to kiss me once more, and I watch her eyelids flutter closed then open again as she burrows into my chest. I wrap my arms around her shivering body.
“I need you, Silas,” she says.
I need you.
