Page 30 of White Noise

“I’m testing you right now.”

He takes another step and my pulse spikes before I can stop it.

His eyes sharpen immediately.

That pisses me off more than anything.

Because he notices fucking everything.

Every breath I take too fast. Every muscle that locks. Any tiny reaction I’d kill to hide.

And now he’s close enough that I can smell him.

Smoke.

Something warm underneath it.

Something darker I can’t place.

Not cologne.

Not anything normal.

Just him.

The scent settles around me while he towers over me, and my body reacts before my brain can tell it not to.

My breath catches as heat crawls low through my stomach, and my thighs tense.

Fuck.

No.

Absolutely fucking not.

I am not standing here getting turned on by the same thing that has hijacked my security system, locked me inside my own house, watched me through my electronics, and somehow crawled out of a fucking television.

That is not happening.

Except apparently my body did not get the memo.

Silas’s gaze drops slowly, not subtle enough to pretend he isn’t checking me out. It moves over my chest, my stomach, my bare legs, then back up again with the kind of deliberate attention that makes my skin feel too tight.

“Don’t.”

He reaches for me anyway.

His fingers catch the hem of my shirt and lift it just enough to expose a strip of skin above my waistband.

I slap at his wrist. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Silas ignores me.

He gathers the fabric between his fingers, brings it toward his face, and inhales.

My stomach flips.

He lowers the fabric slowly, then tips his head and looks down at me with that same mocking calm, like he’s just confirmed something I was hoping he wouldn’t notice.