"I remember a lot of things, Silas," she said.
So did I. That was the fucking problem, I thought. I remembered too much. Like the way she tasted. I couldn't forget it. Or the way she looked when she came, the expression on her face, one of unbridled pleasure.
Or like the way she had played with her hands and stared at the ground when she'd told me she loved me for the first time, as if she was too afraid to speak the words for fear that I wouldn't say the same thing.
I couldn't forget any of it.
But that was before. Before I found out who she really was.
I turned to face her. "I'm not stupid, Tempest."
"Did I give you the impression I think you're an idiot, Silas?" she asked. "You've always been one of the smartest people I know."
"All of this," I said. "You haven't exactly gotten it working a regular job. It’s not like you earned this, clean."
Tempest looked at me, her eyes flashing. Sliding off the bed, she crossed to the other side of the room and stood in front of me. "No," she said. "You know that. You knew that when you came up here. You knew that before you slid my dress up on the balcony out there and stuck your fingers inside me. If you're suddenly too chickenshit to follow through, don't cover it up with some bullshit crisis of conscience."
Anger rushed through me. Goddamn it, this girl pissed me off in a way she'd never angered me back when we were kids.
The thing is, she was right. I'd done a lot of dirty shit, betting on myself in fights. It wasn't like I'd never taken a dive in a fight before, either. Hell, I was thinking about having Coker murdered.
I didn't have room to be all moralistic.
Still. Chickenshit?
It was like she wanted to piss me off.
Her head was tilted up at me, her lips parted, breath shallow. I could hear it, even over the music playing on the stereo, Sam Smith begging a one night stand to stay. I didn't know if I wanted to tell Tempest to go screw herself, and walk away from her bullshit, or if I wanted to bend her over the bed and plunge my cock inside her until she couldn't walk straight.
"Chickenshit," I said. I put my hand at the back of her neck again, threaded my fingers through her hair. The sensation made me harden immediately, and I had to remind myself not to rip her fucking hair out of her head, I wanted to pull her to me so hard.
She made this little moaning sound and leaned into me, her hand on my chest. "You know, if it walks like a duck. Or some metaphor that works with chickens," she said. "Put up or shut up."
The corners of her mouth turned up, like she was baiting me, and yet I couldn't help myself. I wanted to take the bait.
And then she licked her bottom lip, and it was all over for me.
***
CHAPTER TWELVE
TEMPEST
Silas' jaw clenched, and the look that crossed over his face...for a minute, I couldn't be sure he didn't just hate me.
He pulled me toward him, his hand gripping my hair tightly. Bringing his mouth down on mine, he crushed my lips with his, his kiss insistent and powerful. It wasn't one of those loving, gentle kisses, the kind you'd think two reunited long-lost lovers would have.
This kiss was like a goddamn war, his tongue attacking mine, mine battling his, the two of us working out the ton of baggage we carried.
But I found myself melting into him, letting go.
I didn't want to talk to him about the past.
I didn't want to think about what had gone between us, all that had been lost.
When Silas pulled himself away from me, yanked me away from his lips by my hair, he drew in a sharp breath and opened his mouth.
I interrupted him, afraid he was going to say something else I didn't want to think about. "I don't want to fucking talk anymore," I said.
"Then you should shut the hell up," he said, yanking my hair harder, angling my face up toward his. But his voice was finally light, teasing. "Maybe you should find a better use for that smart ass mouth of yours."
He kissed me again, hard like before, and I groaned, pressing my body against his. I could feel his hardness, and I wanted him naked and inside me, the need urgent. But I pushed my hand against his chest, breaking the kiss.
"Maybe I should," I said. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Silas made a low sound in his throat, letting go of my hair. "I can think of a few things," he said.
Grasping the edges of his shirt, I pulled it up on the sides. He yanked it over his head, tossing it to the floor behind him. Running my hands over his chest, I let my fingers play across the expanse. I closed my eyes for a moment, recalling how he felt under my fingertips when we were seventeen, back when I used to sneak away from my parents and run off with him to hide, making love whenever we could find a place to be alone.