Superfan (Brooklyn #3)(44)

The first kiss calms me down. I feel my mind go quiet as he tilts my head and deepens our contact. His eyes close as my lips part for him. He tastes me slowly and then not so slowly. My arms grip him, pulling him closer. His hand tugs on my hair, and I lift my chin, exposing my neck.

Silas crushes me to his chest and kisses me ten different places in quick succession. “Jesus,” he whispers against my skin, and I shiver.

He steps back with a grunt and lifts my suitcase again. “Right. Where were we?” He takes my hand in his. “The cottage is just through here. They all look alike, so if you get confused, remember that ours is Number 11.”

Ours. I like the sound of that. I’m a silly girl who can’t wait to play house on an island for a few days.

There’s a tidy paved path between the little structures, and Silas opens the door to Number 11 with just a twist of the knob. “We haven’t been locking up. Everyone on the island is either a hockey player or a rich tech executive, so…” He shrugs. “There’s a safe in each bedroom. For valuables. You could put your wallet in there.”

“Got it,” I say as he leads me into a comfortable living room with rattan furniture and throw pillows. There’s a kitchen area along one wall and a basket of muffins on the countertop.

We pass through into a short hallway with three bedroom doors. “They gave me the smallest bedroom,” Silas says, walking in and placing my bag down in a corner. “I never show up with a date, so it’s a habit.”

It is a small room. Small enough that I can reach out and place a hand on his chest. “Never?”

“Nope,” he whispers. “Didn’t have the right girl. So what’s the point?” He covers my hand with his.

And—like gears in a clock—we each turn a few degrees, fitting ourselves together. His chin tilts down, mine tilts up, and our kiss is inevitable. There’s nothing tentative about it. One kiss turns into a quick dozen. Then he lifts my top off and sheds his T-shirt.

No words are exchanged at all as he nudges me onto the bed. When I turn to crawl farther onto the mattress, he catches me by the hips and relieves me of my skirt and my bikini bottom in one smooth pull.

I spread my body out on the bed, face down, inhaling the scent of clean linen as his kisses make a path up my back. I hear a zipper as he frees himself from his other clothes. His skin slides against mine a moment later, his erection a hot brand against my ass as he draws my body against his. He’s all hands and hot kisses and fervor. We are twisting, aching bodies on a bed, reigniting the flame that sparks so effortlessly between us.

Chemistry is something I’d forgotten about entirely until Silas showed up in my hotel room to reacquaint me with the concept. I roll over and cling to him shamelessly as he kisses me and teases me into a desperate fever.

He moves down my body, his mouth burning me up inside. This time I’m prepared. I’ve buffed and shaved and smoothed every naked inch.

Or at least I thought I was ready. I grow self-conscious as he parts my knees with those magic hands. I look up at the white ceiling and wonder if I can do this—spread myself so bare for a man.

But then Silas rests his cheek on one of my thighs and kisses the other one. His hand strokes my leg, and he lets out a happy sigh, as if arriving home at the end of a long day. The sensitive skin of my inner leg gets another kiss. And another. Now I can feel his warm breath on my pussy, and my nipples get impossibly hard.

I catch myself arching toward him. Because even if this scares me, I still crave him. I couldn’t fall asleep last night, I was so full of expectation, so desperate to have him inside me again. My usual solution—getting out of bed to fetch my guitar—wasn’t an option. Any song I wrote would have been filthy dirty.

As he slowly turns his head to kiss my achy body, all my hesitation flees. And, as his tongue makes the first, slow lick, I sink further into the mattress, bearing down, letting go. Just take me, I want to say. Don’t ever stop.

He makes a hungry sound, which only makes me crazier. And I lose myself in kisses and licks, until I’m panting and begging him to fuck me. By the time he flips me onto my stomach again, kicks the bedroom door shut, and tugs my hips up to meet his, I’m desperate. He fills me with one primitive thrust that makes both of us groan.

“Silas,” I gasp, realizing something. “Condom.”

He goes absolutely still, his big hands easing their grip on my hips. “I didn’t forget. You want to see?”

“Oh,” I say as my pulse pounds in my ears. “No, it’s okay.”

But he’s already gone. Cool air hits my back. “Sweetheart.” He lies down beside me. “That’s not something I would mess up. I won’t hurt you like that.”

“Okay. Sorry.” I move closer to him. But I’ve broken the mood now.

He pulls me onto his body and studies me. “You’ll trust me eventually. I’ll make sure of it.”

“It’s not you,” I whisper.

“Oh, I know it.” He runs a finger down my nose. “It’s okay to slow down, anyway. I walked you into this cottage and went right into Beast Mode. How was your trip?”

“Fine.” I run a hand down his sculpted chest and take a good look at his beautiful body. And, yup, there’s a condom looking back at me. “I kind of liked Beast Mode,” I admit. “And we’re home all alone.”