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Damn.

Now that he mentioned it, most of them.

“I, uh, guess that’s not the best foundation for a relationship.”

“It works as a plot device,” he decided. “If he’d just confronted her about knowing who she was, there would never have been time to convince her to give him a chance.”

It was the perfect opportunity for me to fess up. While he was being understanding of the wrong actions for the right reasons.

But like every romantic lead he could—highly—criticize for her poor decision-making, I didn’t.

Though maybe I wasn’t completely to blame.

Because it was right at that moment that Silas chose to stretch, his arms going up over his head, revealing a little sliver of his stomach in the process.

All thoughts dissolved.

Well, all thoughts that didn’t involve the inch of taut skin I was looking at, at least.

Silas’s arms lowered, one of them coming around my shoulders. There was a brief pause before his arm tightened, curled.

I came over him, the firm lines of his body against the soft curves of mine pulling a groan out of him even as a shiver of need coursed down my spine.

I pulled up my knees, moving to straddle him as his hands glided down my back, then sank into my butt, scooting me up where he wanted me.

The press of his hardness against my need had a whimper escaping me.

Silas’s fingers flexed, pulling me against him again.

He leaned forward, his lips on my neck, before—

The knock on the door had us shocking apart. I landed on my butt, my heartbeat hammering.

“I ordered room service,” Silas explained. The regret was as clear in his voice as it was on his face. “You haven’t eaten dinner.”

He flew off the bed so quickly that he blurred.

I saw him reach for his wallet before he went to the door.

As for me, I carefully climbed off the bed as quietly as possible. The interruption felt a bit like a sign from the universe that I needed to put a stop to what we started. At least until I got the nerve up to confess to him.

The second I started to pull the door open, though, Silas’s hand slammed into it, forcing it closed as his body moved in close behind me.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

My heart swooped.

Even if I could find the words to answer him, he didn’t give me a chance.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

His hands tracked around my sides, slipping under my shirt, and teasing up my belly, before finally closing his hands over my bare breasts.

Despite my mission to not let this happen, I found myself leaning back into him as a soft whimper escaped me.

His hands squeezed. His fingers flicked, circled, rolled, pinched. My breath stuttered, sped up, punched against my ribcage.

“Tell me you want me to stop.”