looked down at the dress, cut so low on her cleavage that it gave me more than a hint of what was underneath.
Hint, hell.
I remembered everything that was underneath that dress like it was yesterday. My hands had her body memorized- every curve, every angle.
Except, of course, that was when we were seventeen. Everything about her had changed. She wasn't the same girl I fell in love with back then. No, the Tempest I was holding now was all grown up.
And she'd kept that goddamned medal all this time.
I didn’t know what the hell to think about her. I hated her back then for leaving the way she did. I hated her for doing what she'd done, helping her parents with the scam that ripped off the same people in town who already despised my family even before I was associated with her.
She had made things worse for me. She didn't understand that. Or didn't care.
But here she was, in my arms again, all curves and tattoos and sass. And I wanted her.
My hands traveled down the sides of her hips, following the length of her dress until it ended. I took the edge of the material in my hands, then slid my hands underneath it and up around her hips, cupping her curvy ass. When Tempest laughed, it was a sound that was more familiar than anything else in the world. She batted at my hands. "Silas, my dress is up over my ass," she said.
"Oh, is it?" I groped her ass harder. "That's not decent at all."
"Let go of me, before someone comes down this hall."
"Who's coming down this hall?" I asked. "I like this ass. I used to love this ass."
"Well, the entire world doesn't need to see it," she said. But she was grinning.
"Then you'd better hurry up with that key card," I said. "Because I’m sure as hell not going to stop touching it."
Tempest laughed again, and the sound made her impossible to resist. Seeing her did something to me. It awakened things in me I thought I'd buried a long time ago.
Her lips parted slightly, and I didn't wait for whatever she was about to say in response. I let go of her ass with one hand and slid the same hand behind her head, pulling her against my mouth. She opened for me, her tongue pressing against mine, moaning into my mouth as she kissed me.
Then, as quickly as the kiss had started, she put her hands on my chest and pushed me away, her lipstick smudged on the edges of her lips, now plumped from the kiss.
“Hold on,” she said. “I have the key card right here.” She fumbled with the clasp on her purse, and I slid my hands back to where they had been, caressing her ass. “Hands off, Silas.”
I grabbed the key card from her fingers and waved it near the door handle, swinging it open. Squatting down beside her, right there in the hallway, I pulled the skirt up over her ass, my arms wrapped around her thighs, holding her in place.
Tempest squealed. “What the hell are you doing, Silas?”
“I’m not sure I remember your ass,” I said. “It’s been a long time. I need a closer view.”
“Not here,” she said.
“You’re right.” Before she could protest again, I leaned into her, standing up with her draped over my shoulder, her rear near my head, skirt bunched up to her waist.
“Silas Saint,” she said. “Put me down.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I have a better view now.”
“Put me down.”
But I didn’t. Instead, I smacked her ass cheek as I walked inside the room, then grabbed a handful of flesh. “You used to like it when I touched you like that.”
“We were kids,” she said.
“I’m sure that's all it was,” I said. "We were just horny teenagers, right?" I ran my hand down her curvy cheek, still on my shoulder, then touched my finger between her legs, feeling her wetness. She squirmed at my touch.
“Silas, put me the fuck down now,” Tempest said.
But I ignored her as I walked through the suite, past the sitting room and the grand piano, noting the ridiculous opulence. “Shit, Tempest. You're living large, aren't you? Who the hell stays in a hotel suite with a grand piano?”
“It’s a business expense,” she said.
“Business expense,” I said. The words came out bitter, even though I didn't mean them to sound that way. Put it out of your head, I told myself. You don’t need to ask about however the hell Tempest gets her money. This is just a fling. This is revisiting the past, getting beyond it, and letting go.
When I reached the bedroom, I deposited her onto the bed. “At your service, my lady,” I said, in the best butler voice I could muster. I added a gesture and a bow, just for the hell of it.
I was trying to lighten my mood, but failing. It just made the moment more awkward.
“At my service?” she asked. She turned onto her side and propped up her head with her hand. A piece of hair fell across her face and she tucked it behind her ear. “If that’s the case, you’d better get to work.”
"Is that right?" I asked, standing beside the bed, drinking her in with my eyes. She lay with one leg crossed over the other, the fabric of her dress riding up on her thigh, covering the ass I'd just smacked. I wondered if I'd left a handprint on her flesh, and my cock stirred at the thought.
I crossed to the other side of the room and tugged at the sides of my shirt, intending to toss my clothes on the overstuffed chair in the corner. But I stopped at the sight of the chair.
Shit. That fucking chair probably cost more than the purse from my fight.
I sighed. I needed to put those kinds of thoughts out of my head. I had a girl lying here on the bed - not a girl, the girl, the girl I would have given everything in the fucking world to hold on to back when we were kids, the girl I'd have done anything for - and here she was, soon-to-be naked, lying on a bed in a fancier hotel than I'd ever been in in my whole damn life.
And all I could think about was how she'd made the money that paid for the damn room.
Shit, Silas, what the hell is wrong with you?
Trigg and Abel would kick me in the nuts for what was going through my head right now.
Behind me, I heard music come on, soft over the speakers, and I turned to see Tempest leaning over to replace a remote on the table beside the bed.
"What?" she asked, sitting up on the bed. "You have a look."
"I don't have a look."
"You have a look, and it's not the same look you had a minute ago, the one that said you were about to pounce on me."
I shook my head. "It’s the whole place, Tempest," I said. "You have a damn piano in your hotel room. Is it always like this?"
Tempest looked down, her hair slipping forward and shielding the side of her face. She tucked her legs underneath her on the bed. "Silas," she said. "It's not what you think."
"It's hard to swallow, is what I think," I said. "Seeing all of this, paid for by innocent people."
Tempest laughed, but when I looked at her, she wasn't smiling. "Innocent," she said. "Yeah, sure."
I walked along the length of the windows that lined the walls of the bedroom from floor to ceiling, overlooking the Vegas skyline. Those lights in the houses out there were where regular people stayed, people like me and my brothers.
The kind of people she and her parents conned.
People like her parents, Tempest and her crew, they saw regular folks as marks. Chumps.
"I remember you wanted to give it all up, you know," I said. Back then, back when she’s mattered to me and I mattered to her, she wanted to leave it all behind.
"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.
15
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.
I fumbled with the button on his jeans, my movements clumsy, overcome with the anticipation of being with him. "Yeah?" I asked. "What kind of things?"
Silas' blue eyes were darkened with lust. He stepped away from me, and I watched as he kicked off his shoes, let his jeans drop to the floor, and slid them across the carpet. His muscles rippled with every movement, and I felt my heart race.
God, he is still so fucking beautiful. There was no other way of putting it. He was harder now than he had been when I loved him before, both physically and otherwise.
Jaded. Angry.
It made me want him more.
Reaching for the waistband of his boxers, I pulled them down, releasing his erection. "Well?" I asked. "What would you rather I did with my mouth?"
Silas gripped my arms, pulled me against his nakedness as he stepped out of the last stitch of clothing he wore. His forehead pressed against mine, he spoke close to my mouth. "You can get down on your knees and wrap that sweet, sassy little mouth of yours around my cock."
I inhaled sharply, and he kissed me, gently this time, his tongue teasing me. Running my hands over his hard chest and down his muscled abdomen, I sunk to my knees between his legs, his cock in front of me.
Moving my hands up his thighs, I paused, my mouth an inch away from him, and looked up. "Is this what you wanted?"
"Shit, Tempest," he said, his voice gravely as he threaded his hands through my hair. "You know I do. You need to stop fucking talking."
I laughed. "You're bossier than you used to be."
Silas gripped my hair, and my body responded immediately, the throbbing between my legs more insistent now. "You're mouthier than I remembered," he said.
"You have no idea," I said, wrapping my hand around the base of his dick and guiding it toward my mouth. I touched his tip to my tongue, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum where it dripped from his head.
Silas groaned. "Fuck, Tempest."
"I haven't even gotten started," I said, licking the length of him before I took him in my mouth. Moving my hand up and down his cock, I began to suck him, harder as I worked.
He was silent, his eyes half-closed, until I cupped his balls in my hand and rubbed the sensitive area under them. Then, they fluttered open and he looked at me with hooded eyes. "You keep doing what you're doing, bright eyes, and you're going to make me come right in that sassy little mouth of yours."
I paused at the use of his nickname for me.
No one had called me that in years.
Suddenly overwhelmed with emotions I couldn’t explain, I pulled back from him.
Silas looked down at me. “Fuck, you think I didn’t remember?”
“I don’t know.” I thought I’d forgotten. Or I’d tried to put it out of my head, the same way I’d half-heartedly tried to forget everything else about him.
He pulled me to my feet and drew me against him. "I couldn’t forget,” he said, then softly hummed a few bars of the song, the words I’d memorized a long time ago, this song about seeing someone for the first time. It was playing in this coffee shop where we’d gone on our first official date - First Day of My Life. Sitting across from him, nervous in the awkward silence, I'd said I liked the words; the band was Bright Eyes, and the nickname had stuck, just between us.