Page 119 of Silk and Sirens

Our silence was too comforting, too soft compared to what we’d just done.

Once he was done, he placed the brush on the sink before reaching for a bottle.

“Take this.” He twisted the cap off the electrolyte drink and shoved it at me.

I glared at him.

“Fine, I’ll do it for you.” Pursing his lips, he pinched my jaw and forced my mouth open.

I shoved him, hard. He didn’t move, but he did release me. His gaze pointed until I finally snatched the bottle and downed it in several angry gulps.

“Happy?”

“No.” His expression seemed more severe, like he wasn’t sure how he was feeling. Which made two of us.

I started to giggle, unable to control it, and Caden gave me a deep, concerned frown. Honestly, if I could take anything from this fuck up—excluding the mind altering orgasms, of course—it was that I could confuse him.

“So,” I began once I’d gotten my laughter under control. “You’ve definitely done that before.”

“Done what before?” he asked slowly, like he was worried I was going to bolt.

Tempting.

“Fucked women until they cried. That was some therapy shit. Very cathartic. You should teach a class, I’m sure my Sirens could learn a thing or two.”

Caden cocked his head, watching me. “I don’t fuck women.”

“Oh God, if you say make love I swear I’ll⁠—”

“I haven’t slept with anyone in over a year,” he admitted. “I haven’t been interested in anyone until you.”

I paused, searching his face for any trace of deceit. I found none, only a raw honesty that unsettled me more than any lie could have.

Shaking his head, he picked up a bottle of lotion and squeezed some into his palm. “Turn around.”

“Caden …”

“Aeris.” His eyes held mine, patient but commanding.

I turned, that vulnerability growing when he gently applied the lotion to my skin, over where his grip had likely left bruises. But it was too soft. Too careful. Too much.

“Stop it.”

He didn’t, adding pressure as he applied more. “Stop what?”

“Making me feel.” I turned, the words getting caught. “I can only do this if I’m cold. I can’t keep⁠—”

“Can’t keep what?”

“Feeling, Caden.” I grabbed the towel, holding it to my front with clenched fists. “I can’t feel … because if I feel, I’ll break.”

“Then break,” he said roughly. “I’ve got you.”

“You don’t get it. If I break … I don’t know if I’ll be able to put myself back together again.”

Caden’s thumb stroked my cheek, gentle in a way that terrified me more than his violence ever could. “What are you so scared of?”

I laughed again, but the sound was wet, and I refused to shed any more tears. “I’m scared that this is wrong. I’m scared that I’m going to fail, and that everything I’ve done is for a ghost.”