Page 39 of Relapse

“Lee, take the light,” I heard Silas say lowly, the intercom on the his side of the car lit up green with his touch.

The camera was practically inside the vehicle at this point.

“Get that out of my face,” I snarled.

“Mr. Thorne? How do you explain your relationship with Mr. Hansen?”

I couldn’t help the chuckle. “You’re a fucking pussy, you know that? You don’t have shit better to do?”

He ignored my question and continued asking his own. “Have you been drinking tonight, Mr. Hansen? Are you both leaving the strip? Your eyes look a bit red. Back to your old bad habits, I see.”

With a near roar, Silas lurched across the seat and over me, knocking the camera out of his car and out of the man’s hands. It clattered to the street with a metallic crunch.

“Hey! I think you broke my shit, dude!”

Silas was tense across me, his muscles clearly visible through his tight white button up.

I pressed back into my seat, speechless. Watching him react like that for me was the last thing I’d expected.

“Send the bill to Pinnacle. And get the fuck away from my car.”

The Royce shot forward with a near screech as Silas’s driver obeyed the command and ran the red light despite the intersecting traffic. The acceleration sent Silas flying back into the seat next to me, and I watched in sheer amazement the way he slicked his hair back, chest heaving.

He looked godly.

“That was so fucking hot,” I murmured, yanking him back into my possession.

He pulled from me. “You should not have opened that window, Noah.”

“Aw, who gives a shit? Fuck that guy and his camera.”

But Silas was right. Deep down, the pit of worry grew wider. I knew I shouldn’t have done that. It was risky.

Looking into Silas’s eyes, though, I found it difficult to care for much longer.

I leaned in to kiss him again, but he placed a finger over my mouth. “We’re here.”

Chapter eleven

Penthouse

NOAH

The elevator doors closed with a sharp clank and a shudder. We were alone, ascending to the penthouse—thirty floors up. All the way to Silas’s office overseeing the city. Heat pulsed up to my cheeks when he turned his gaze to me, inching closer in the small space, bridging the distance between us. He took his arm and rested it on the elevator wall above my head, angling his body towards mine, dipping his head down to align his eyes into mine.

“A long way up,” he whispered huskily.

I swallowed hard and he smirked.

“I don’t think I’ll touch you, yet. I’ve got plans for us.”

“Plans?”

The elevator rocked ever so slightly. Like waves cresting gently against dark water, I knew we were about to crash into one another.

“Yes,” he said softly.

I drug my tongue over my lower lip. “What if I want you to touch me?”