Page 85 of Vows of Silence

Silas stiffened next to me. I glanced over at him, almost seeing the tension radiate off him. His mask dipped ever so slightly, and my lips tingled in response.

He was staring at them.

The throbbing came back with renewed intensity. I clenched my thighs, desperate to relieve the burning I felt.

And I knew Silas knew exactly what was happening to me. His body seemed to tense even further. His fists clenched, and I knew it wasn’t from anger.

It was desire.

Burning hot raw desire.

I licked my dry lips, nervously biting down on my lower one. He raised a gloved hand, bringing it to my mouth. Gently, he used his thumb to pry my lip from between my teeth and stroked along the length of it.

I had the most inane desire to lick his thumb, to nibble on the soft skin and—

I jumped up from the table, my chair tipping backwards to the floor, the drinks tipping over. I felt hot liquid splash on my thighs, but too embarrassed to register the pain.

“Th-thank you for a lovely meal,” I stammered, almost tripping over the chair in my haste to get away.

Silas was on his feet instantly, reaching out to steady me, but the second his gloved hand touched my bare skin, a wave of desire washed over me—one that was so strong I nearly moaned on the spot.

I hopped over the tipped over chair and practically ran to the en-suite bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

Chapter 27

The Flame

I stayed in the bathroom long after I was certain Silas would have left.

I couldn’t bear to look at him. The memory of his touch, the lingering whisper of the sounds I had made… I was mortified. And I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was aware of every humiliating sensation I’d experienced.

The voice in the back of my mind tried to reassure me, tried to remind me that Silas hadn’t acted on it. He hadn’t shown any sign that he’d noticed, and he hadn’t embarrassed me over my stupid hormones.

But knowing he knew was humiliation enough.

When I was certain that he would be gone, I dared to crack open the bathroom door, peeking out into the bedroom before opening it fully.

My room was immaculate.

The table and chairs had been cleared away, the food tidied and removed. And no Silas.

Thank God.

The only sign that he had been here at all was the single rose from the breakfast table lying neatly on my pillow, its petals deep red against my sheets.

I picked it up, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeper, closing my eyes as I detected the lingering, faint smell of leather.

Silas…

The same wave of desire danced around the edges of my brain, my skin beginning to hum with awareness and arousal.

I dropped the rose like I’d been burnt and backed away.

“You need to get out of this room, Isabelle. You’re driving yourself mad,” I whispered to myself.

That’s all this was. It was cabin fever. I’d had a very intense couple of weeks, and my body was in fight mode. It didn’t know how to process, and it was leaning on an emotion that had always been safe—arousal.

This wasn’t about Silas. I definitely wasn’tattractedto him or anything. This was a cut and dry case of fight or flight. And whenever I had experienced this before, what did I do?