Thief (A Bad Boy Romance)(46)

My legs go astride his, and I can feel him hot and pulsing against my skin. My eyes never leave his as I reach between us, fingers circling him and drawing him against me.

He pauses, turning to stretch towards the nightstand drawer and pull a condom out, and I raise my brow.

He grins. “No one else has been here but you, you know.”

I swallow the heat that comes to my face as I start to look away. “I told you, it’s been eight years, Silas. I don’t have any sort of claim on you or any-”

“Yeah, gorgeous,” he says gruffly, stopping me with a kiss. “Yeah, you do. You always have, and always fucking will.”

He looks deeply into my eyes, the sea squall inside his own crashing like a storm.

“I’m yours.” He shrugs, like it’s the only truth left in the world. “Always will be.”

My mouth crashes into him, kissing him fiercely and gasping into his lips. He pulls away to tear the foil of the condom with his teeth before moving to roll it down his length. His hands slide over my hips to my ass, raising me up.

And then I’m sinking all the way down.

God, it’s so good.

He’s so big, and yet so damn perfect as he slowly fills me.

Perfect, like two puzzle pieces locking together exactly how they should. Exactly how they were meant to.

We stay like that, gasping at the memory of this and what this feels like with each other again.

Slowly, he brings me up, before pulling me back onto him, filling me with one stroke. He grinds deep inside, and my head falls back as we start to move together. Up and down, moving like one, riding with the motion of the waves lapping the side of the boat.

This is memory.

This is remembering.

This is fickle time shattering away as we find each other again.

When I come, it’s like the world freezes for a second. When the orgasm rocks through me like a northern storm, I’m frozen for one single second before I explode in his arms. He growls my name over and over into my ear as he comes with me, his hips rocking off the bed to meet me as we crash together.

And it’s a white light, shining through the storm and the waves.

It’s my lighthouse, all over again.





Chapter Twenty-Four





Silas




Silas

We’re wrapped in each other’s arms, her breath against my skin, when she slowly raises her head from my chest. She blinks at me sleepily, like she’s been dozing.

“Shit, I should go.”

I frown. “Where?”

“Home.”

I scowl and she rolls her eyes at me. “I can’t stay here.”

“Sure you can.”

I almost want to tell her she can stay here forever. That she can stay right here with me in this bed for the rest of our damn lives - or at least until we make up for eight fucking years.

Then we can get up.

For food or something.

She grins at me. “I can’t, and you know that.”

I think of the implications of Rowan, or Jacob for that matter, putting two and two together somehow and coming looking for her here when she doesn’t come home.

It’s not a fun thought.

But at the same time, who cares? Ivy’s a grown woman, and capable of doing what she wants and making her own damn decisions. If those decisions just so happen to involve staying right here in my bed without any clothes on, all the better.

“I think you should get back in this bed, and let me worry about what the Hammond family thinks of it all later.”

She smiles, but shakes her head. “I need to go.”

“So when am I seeing you again?”

Her face darkens slightly the second I say it, and she looks away.

Yeah, there it is.

That nagging thought that’s been in my head since she stepped onto this boat tonight comes back with a vengeance, the same question on its lips: is this a reunion     or a bookend.

She shakes her head, reading the look on my face.

“Look, Silas, I-”

“It’s complicated, I know.”

She laughs softly. “I don’t think that even begins to describe it.”

And she’s right of course, even if I hate that she is. As much as I tried to deny it, I spent eight damn years trying to come right back here - imagining it in my dreams. In the fantasy, it starts right back up again, like turning on en engine or pushing a button.

Except that’s not a thing.

We’ve both changed since then, we’re not the same kids we were. We’ve been bruised and battered by pain and suffering, battled demons and the memory of each other - her more than me on that last one.

“Look, Ivy, I don’t have any expectations of whatever this-”

“Good.”

We lock eyes for a second before she wrinkles her face. “Sorry, that came out harsh.”

“It’s fine.”