Oh my God! I reached a hand out, searching for his face, and my fingertips gritted over the whiskers on his jaw. “Silas.”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve been laying here for hours? In the dark, and the quiet?”
Beneath my fingers, the muscles of his jaw moved as he swallowed. “You said it was what you needed. I wasn’t about to leave you.”
My breath squeezed painfully in my lungs. I had no idea what to say.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
How was I feeling? Like everything was upside-down. “I’m . . . better, but seriously, you didn’t have to stay. You didn’t sign up for this.”
“It’s no big deal.” He pressed me gently into him. “You’re here. It’s not like I was alone.”
His statement was weighted, revealing the truth. It wasn’t so much the absence of sound that got to him, it was the absence of people. I grasped his chin and pulled his mouth to mine.
The kiss at first was hesitant. He was probably concerned about overdoing it, but I couldn’t contain the emotions swirling in me. The need to connect with him was more intense than the pain from the migraine. My hand drifted to the nape of his neck and clutched at his hair, driving the kiss to a new level.
We had heat by the truckload, but this was something else. Passion. So different, and so much better. I had both hands cupping his head while his palm slid up my spine, coming to rest in the center of my back. His wet tongue slipped into my mouth, leaving me breathless.
Fuck, everything about this man made me breathless.
We lay in my bed, fully clothed, kissing for a long while, like we were both trying to learn the taste of each other. Our lips, our tongues, our necks. His gentle hands crept up into my hair, and then down to explore my shoulders and back, but never pressed lower.
It was kind of amazing.
“So,” I said, while he had his mouth buried in the crook of my neck and drew goosebumps, “this dinner didn’t go as planned.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe how fast I got you in bed.”
He made me smile. “Right. Demanding you to take me home before the food arrived? You totally set a record.”
“What can I say? I’m that fucking good.”
I tightened my hand on his shoulder and let my voice go serious. “You are.” He could have been a dick about the situation, and instead he’d been flawless. Without him, I was sure I’d still be lying on the filthy carpet in the hallway, curled up in the fetal position. “Thank you.”
He lifted his head and planted a kiss on my lips. “You’re welcome.” He sat back from me, probably propped up on an elbow, and had his arm draped across my chest. “That was kind of intense. Does it happen a lot?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice full of shame. “Well, no. I mean, that one was different. Most of the time I can at least function.” I set my hand on his forearm. He’d probably assume it was just a random gesture, but it wasn’t. I liked his arm around me and didn’t want him to take it away. “My doctor wants to try a different medicine, but they’re injections, and you know I’m a pussy about needles.”
“Come on,” he scoffed lightly. “You did fine.” He nestled down beside me so my shoulder was in the center of his chest. “I have to think one needle stick would be worth not going through all that.”
“Yeah, logically, you’d think so,” I said dryly. Too bad logic played no part in it.
“Okay, then. You get one of those doses ready, and bring it with you next time we have dinner.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear as if he wanted me to hear his low words better. “I’ll be happy to stick it in you.”
I laughed at his innuendo while my stomach churned with nervous energy. Next time we have dinner. I both did and didn’t want it. Lying to him about who I was made me feel like scum.
“We didn’t actually eat dinner,” I said. “Are you hungry? I could order you something.”
“You’re not hungry?”
“No, not anymore. Although I could use a drink.”
The bed shifted and his arm slid away. “Can I turn on a light?”
“Uh . . .” It was likely to make me feel like shards of glass were in my eyes.