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It's not those days Silas is asking about, though. The last time the Foxes had thrown the gala, I’d been excited about seeing Ethan after so many months, excited for him to see me, see how I’d become a woman. But I’d learned pretty quickly that Ethan wasn’t remotely interested in me, not any more than formalities and polite inquiries, a dance, whatever his parents decreed he must do.
Ethan was the only boy who had ever really paid attention to me. Going to an all-girls school doesn’t exactly help in that department, and I was extremely shy to boot, but it was more than that. From the moment the Foxes moved in next door, it was almost as though he and I were being groomed for a future chosen for us. A future that maybe didn’t take into consideration our feelings. The fact that we never did fall in love with each other.
Anyway, I’d been young, and I hadn’t known then what I know now. I was a senior in high school, and by then, he’d been away at college for two years. Of course, I knew he had girlfriends in that time. It’s not like we were a couple. When he came home, he hung out with me. After the time Silas found us in his bedroom, he never really did more than hold my hand or, now and again, kiss my cheek.
If I think about it, I’m not sure Ethan is even really attracted to me. I’m not attracted to him. Because as I look up at the man standing just a few feet from me, I recall what he said to me the other night, asking about Ethan. I can say one thing for certain, and it’s a thing that’s never changed. When Silas so much as looks at me, butterflies take wing in my belly and my heart begins to beat at an unnatural pace. It’s something I’ve never felt with anyone else. Never. It’s only ever been Silas. It’s always been Silas.
But that night three years ago, when Ethan had disappeared and I’d found him making out with Anya in an alcove, I’d been upset—not for his betrayal, but because of my own expectation. After that, I’d seen our relationship for what it was. A casual friendship, if that. Ethan wasn’t interested in me romantically. I didn’t realize I wasn’t interested in him that way either until then.
After I’d spied Ethan kissing Anya, I’d snatched a bottle of champagne and come up here to lick mywounds, but the room hadn’t been empty. Silas had been standing at the window watching what was happening below in the ballroom. He’d been as surprised to be found as I’d been to find him. He took one look at me, at the bottle in my hand and raised his eyebrows. I still remember the moment. I’d been afraid he’d send me back down. Tell me I was too young to be drinking.
There’s a trick to opening those, he’d said, and instead of sending me on my way, he’d reminded me that I was too good for Ethan and left it at that as if he knew why I was up there. He’d popped the cork and we’d shared the bottle. Well, he’d had most of it. I’d had a few sips. I don’t really like champagne.
And then we’d kissed. Well, I’d kissed him for about three seconds.
I look up at Silas now and nod. “Of course I remember. How could I forget?” I also remember how I’d told him his eyes were the color of my favorite beach in Mexico. And the moment that followed the awkwardness of it all.
He smiles, brushes a lock of hair that’s fallen from my up-do back behind my ear and the gesture is so tender, his smile so soft, it touches that aching inside me. That space like loss, which is ridiculous, since to feel loss you must lose something. It’s not like I ever had Silas Cruz to lose him.
That smile vanishes fairly quickly though when his gaze lands on the choker. I touch it. Although it’s in myhead, I swear the rubies feel like shards of glass against my throat.
“Mira’s?”
I nod.
“It’s hideous. You look like you’ve been decapitated,” he says. He turns me around and his hands brush my nape. I shudder at this touch. A moment later, the cool stones slip from my neck and into his hand. He sets the necklace aside and I feel like I can breathe again even though they weren’t really choking me.
“You and Ethan? It’s over?” he asks, tone serious.
I nod.
He studies me, then reaches out to me again, and this time, he tugs the pin holding my hair in place out, and curls tumble down over my shoulders. I watch him as he watches, then brushes my hair back, away from my face.
“That’s better,” he says before setting one hand on the flat of my belly and pressing me backward into the wall. His other hand slides to the back of my head to cup it and his eyes grow dark and then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he’s kissing me. He’s kissing me and his lips are warm and soft and my heart flutters in my chest. My hands come to his shoulders not to push him away, but to touch him. To feel him. His strength. His solid mass. The safety there.
He looks down at me, eyes searching my face, my lips. He dips his head to mine again and whispers something I don’t hear before kissing me so deeply, I’mleft gasping for breath when he draws back to trail kisses along my jawline, down to my throat, to my racing pulse. My fingers curl around his shoulders as he brushes his jaw over the hollow above my collarbone.
When he straightens, I push his jacket off, my fingers fumbling with his bowtie, tugging at it, then at the buttons of his shirt because I need to feel him, feel his skin against my skin. I need him like I’ve always needed him.
Silas tugs on the zipper at the back of my dress, and a moment later, it slips to the floor and when he stands back to look at me, I push his shirt half off, two buttons popping. I take in his muscled chest, wide shoulders, the dusting of dark hair. I can’t stop looking at him, touching him, almost unsure this is really happening.
He dips his head again to kiss me, his mouth wet as he leaves a trail down the center of my chest, my belly, crouching down before me to slide my panties off, eye level with my pussy. He kisses the flat of it and when he draws away, I shudder with the cool air against the space his mouth was. He combs his fingers through the small patch of hair I’ve let grow in, and when his mouth closes over my clit, I’m not sure whether it’s him or me moaning.
I weave my fingers into his hair as he bends his head to lick my pussy before rising up, licking each of my nipples before straightening to his full height.
“Fuck, Ophelia,” he says, his voice a deep rumble. “Ever since that night, after The Grande, I’ve wanted this again. I can’t get you out of my fucking mind, do you know that?” He kisses me again and lifts me up, the lock of our lips never breaking as he carries me to the chaise and strips off the dust cloth. He sits me down and drops to his knees between my legs. He pushes my thighs apart and kisses my mouth once more before tugging me to the edge of the chaise and burying his face between my legs.
I drag my fingers through his hair and tug him close as I lean backward, hooking my legs on his shoulders as he tastes me, his tongue so soft and wet and testing before devouring. When his lips close around my clit, I bite back my moan, but when he sucks hard on that little nub, I cry out, calling out his name so fucking loud they must hear it over the orchestra in the ballroom.
I’m trembling when it’s over and he straightens, stands. I look at him as he strips off his ruined shirt, drops it onto the floor, my gaze moving to the outline of his rigid cock pressing against his slacks as he undoes his belt with those big hands and pushes his pants and briefs down just far enough to release his cock.
I drop to my knees before him. I will worship this man. And when I taste him, I moan, because I missed his taste. Missed his hands. I missed him so fucking much.
I take him as deep as I can, which isn’t very, and Iknow he’s being careful as he closes his eyes and guides me over his length. He groans and draws me off.
“Not your mouth, not tonight,” he says, drawing me up to stand, lifting me. I wrap my legs around his hips as he takes us to the wall and presses my back to it. He kisses me again. “I need to be inside you. I need to come inside you.”
I nod, kissing him, my throat dry as I feel his heat between my legs, his solid, firm length, the skin soft around his hard cock. He pushes my head back with one hand as he draws my ass cheek out with the other.
