Page 41 of Illusionist
“You mean that?”
“Try me.”
We stand there staring at each other, the air thick with everything unsaid. All my walls, all my carefully constructed defenses, feel suddenly flimsy. Inadequate protection against the way he's looking at me—like I'm worth protecting, worth fighting for.
Like I'm worth more than the damage that was done to me.
“I'm scared,” I admit, the words barely audible.
“Of him?”
“Of you. Of this.” I gesture between us. “Of wanting things I can't have.”
Silas reaches out, giving me time to pull away. When I don't, he cups my face in his hands, thumbs brushing away tears I didn't realize were still falling.
“What if you could have it?”
“Nothing good ever lasts for me.”
“Maybe this time will be different.”
I want to believe him. God, how I want to believe him. But hope feels dangerous, like another kind of chain I'm not sure I'm ready to wear.
14
SILAS
The words hang between us like a challenge, and I watch the doubt flicker across Nova's face. Her eyes narrow, defensive walls already building.
“You can't know that.” Her voice cracks on the last word.
I close the distance between us in two steps, my hands finding her waist, pulling her against me. Every muscle in my body draws tight as a wire. “I can.”
Her breath catches. Those freckles across her nose stand out stark against her flushed skin. “People change. They lie. They?—”
“Not me.” My fingers tighten on her hips. “Not with you.”
She searches my face, and I let her see everything. The hunger that's been eating me alive since she walked into my life. The rage at what was done to her. The bone-deep need to prove I'm different from every bastard who came before.
Her lips part, and that's all the invitation I need. But she beats me to it, surging up on her toes, her mouth crashing into mine.
The kiss detonates through me. Her tongue slides against mine, and she tastes like wine and desperation. My hands fist in her hair, angling her head back to deepen the kiss. She moans into my mouth, and the sound shoots straight to my cock.
“Bedroom,” she gasps against my lips.
“Too far.” I lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist instantly. The couch is three steps away, and I'm already yanking at her shirt as I carry her.
She helps, pulling the fabric over her head and tossing it aside. Her bra follows—black lace that joins the growing pile on my floor. The sight of her bare breasts, the dark ink of her tattoos trailing across her skin, makes my mouth water.
“Fuck, you're perfect.” I set her on the arm of the couch, immediately bending to take a nipple in my mouth.
“Silas!” Her back arches, pushing more of herself against my tongue. Her fingers tangle in my hair, holding me there as I suck and tease.
I switch to her other breast, my hands working at her jeans. She lifts her hips, helping me peel the denim down her legs. Her underwear goes with them, and then she's naked except for that leather choker around her throat.
“Your turn.” She reaches for my shirt, but I catch her wrists.
“Not yet.” I drop to my knees between her spread thighs. “I need to taste you first.”
