Silas (A Playboy's Lair Novel Book 1)

by S. R. Watson

  “Um … sorry about your sheets. I can pay for them. I just got to go.” I know if I’m covered in blood like the movie Carrie, then I’m sure his cock is wearing it. I need to get the hell out of here. I attempt to snatch my swimsuit from the floor, but strong arms grab me before I get the chance.

  “Shut it. I’m not letting you run because of a little blood. What did you think would happen? Newsflash, I didn’t exactly go easy on you.” He chuckles. Only I can’t find it in me to laugh with him.

  “My little sex kitten wanted it rough. Stop freaking out. It’s only sheets. So worth it.” His banter fades when he sees the stupid tears begin to trickle down my face. The ones I didn’t want him to see, but he wouldn’t let me go.

  “Stop, please.” His voice softens, and that makes it worse. I’m ruining something that was seriously spectacular just moments ago.

  He grabs my hand again and walks us to his shower. Without letting go of my hand, he turns on the water. When the temperature has heated to his satisfaction, he pulls me into the glass kingdom with him. His bathroom truly is a palace in its own right; only I’m too distracted by my own embarrassment to care.

  “Look at me, beautiful,” he says encouragingly. When I do, the gentleness in his eyes shakes my soul. He pulls me further into him and kisses me slowly. This kiss doesn’t harness the wild passion like before. It’s tender and sweet. He holds me close and continues to kiss me under the rain showerhead. I feel the moment some of the embarrassment begins to ebb away. Being held like this makes me desire things I can’t have—like him.

  Silas finally breaks the kiss, but only so he can wash me. I don’t even mind that it’s some woodsy manly body wash. It smells like him. He uses extra care when he uses the washcloth between my legs, but I still flinch. My swollen vagina is sensitive to the touch, and he notices. He pats softer and then removes the nozzle to aim the warm water just where needed. He holds it there, letting the warmness dull the ache.

  “Too much too fast,” he says almost to himself.

  It’s my turn to comfort. “It’s fine, Silas.”

  He nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. He steps further underneath the water to wash, and I watch as the water repels from his taut muscles. Worry creases his thick brows, and the mood change is apparent. My own embarrassment over the mess I made has taken a back seat to my concern about what he’s thinking. I don’t want him to have regrets. He turns away from me, leaving me to study his perfection freely. His back flexes and every etch of defined muscle is making me want him again—for him to erase whatever this heaviness is that is thick between us, suffocating any remaining bliss.

  I massage his back similar to what he treated me to earlier. I ease my hand around his abs and play with the rock-hard ridges beneath my fingers. He truly has the body of a god. I bet women throw their panties at him, and I’ve just had a taste. He brings more than just looks to the table. He’s the total package. His grip on my wrist halts my exploring, and I feel the tension before he even turns around.

  “You have to stop before you make me hard again,” he warns, turning around. He shuts off the water and reaches for a towel for each of us. He hands me one and begins to dry himself off. My insecurities resurrect tenfold. Of course. Why didn’t I figure this out until now? That concern I read on his face was probably him wondering how he would go about kicking me out. The shower was just so I didn’t leave his room wearing the evidence of my lost virginity. He doesn’t want to get worked up because he’s done. I foolishly thought he worried that he’d hurt me. Why the hell did he kiss me like that then?

  I dry off in record time. No strings. Got it. It was fun, and now it’s done.

  “You have a regular t-shirt I can borrow? I’ll return it; I just don’t remember where I laid mine down at the moment.”

  I just need to get that shirt and get the hell out of here. I got what I came here for, so why does his dismissal feel like a slap.

  “Of course. I’ll grab you one in a sec.”

  He wraps the towel around himself and walks back toward the bedroom, so I wrap my towel around my body and follow. Instead of getting the shirt immediately, he begins to strip the linens from the bed. I listen as he makes a call to have them replaced. While he is on the phone, I head outside where we were to find my shirt.

  “What are you doing?”

  His voice startles me, but I continue my search. “Looking for my shirt so I can go,” I answer, never looking in his direction.

  “I told you I would grab you one. I just needed to get new bedding first. Why are you leaving?”

  Is he for real?

  “I’m not doing the whiplash thing with you, Silas. Tonight was great. Now I’m going back to my room,” I huff. “Well, as soon as I get a shirt. Can you get that please?”

  My tough exterior is slipping. Inside, my heart is crumbling into a million disappointed pieces. I got so carried away with the tender moments that I lost sight of what this actually was—a fuck.

  “Great? That’s what tonight was?” He takes calculating steps toward me, his face stern and questioning.

  “Yes.”

  I don’t know what else to say. He tilts his head to the side in disbelief, and I know that was the wrong answer.

  “So what now? You give me your virginity, and now you’re ready to run again?” Agitation radiates off him. “Why do you make me chase you? I said I wouldn’t, and here I am yet again—chasing!”

  “I didn’t ask you to chase me,” I spit. “You know what? Forget the shirt. I’ll go back to my room in this damn towel.”

  “You didn’t ask me to chase you? Says the woman running.”

  “Ugh,” I grunt.

  I spin on my heel. I’m done. I maybe get three steps away before I’m grabbed around my waist.

  “Dammit, Silas. First, you go all cold and push me away in the shower, and now you want to keep me from leaving? If you’re done with me, just let it be so. I gave you an out here. You didn’t even have to kick me out.”

  “Is that what’s been going through that imagination of yours? Creating fictional scenarios on how this would all play out?” He holds me tighter. “I was upset with myself, Brennan. I wanted to take it easier on you the first time. I pride myself on control.”

  “It’s fine. I told you. It’s what I wanted. The pain was …”

  “Was what?” he pushes.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “At that moment, it was pleasure too. Now I’m just sore.”

  “You have to learn your limits. I should have known better. My dick overruled my rational thought, and for that, I apologize.”

  “I don’t want you to have regrets. I already feel bad about your sheets.”

  “Can you just forget about those stupid sheets? I don’t regret my time with you, either, so get that misconception out of that pretty little head of yours.”

  “So now what? I’m not running.”

  “Now you bring your sexy ass back to my bed. We’ll ice your swollen pussy back to normal, so I can make a follow-up visit.”

  He winks at me, and just like that, the tension melts away. He picks me up and carries me to his now newly made bed. Only he doesn’t toss me on it this time. He eases me down in the center before running his hand through the melted ice.

  “Oh, that just won’t do. Sit tight. I’ll get more ice.”

  I don’t want to ice my vagina, but if he thinks that will help, I’ll try it. I didn’t forget about the shirt, and I don’t think he did either. Slick fucker just wants to keep me naked. He’s asked me to stay, so I’ll stay quiet about it for now. Just as he promised, he wraps some ice in a towel and holds it to my swollen pussy. The burn of the coldness is hard to tolerate until the numbness takes over. With a click of the remote, he turns off the light.

  I don’t know at what point I fell asleep, but I wake in the middle of the night with an arm around my waist. Snuggled against his naked form. Suddenly, this is all too intimate. This feels dangerously like the beginning of som
ething one-sided. This may be a casual cuddle for him, much like the day in my cabin, but it’s not for me. The reckless feelings stirring within me clue me in that I have to go. I remove his arm, careful not to wake him up, then grab my still damp swimsuit off the floor and put it on. At least if I run into anyone, it will look like I just came back from a twilight swim. I look back at the bed one last time as the moonlight shines across his still sleeping form. Sorry, Silas.

  The line to get off the yacht moves steadily as people disembark to explore the first port here in St. Maarten. The guests were given the earliest time slot to leave the ship, and now, based on rotation and seniority, the employees may exit. Because I work in the aft and it’s closed for the duration we’re in port, I get an off day. That one perk of working in Spankville couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.

  Last night was amazingly unforgettable. Even with the blood shedding, virginal sacrifice moment that humiliated the heck out of me, Silas was perfect. But just as he had foreshadowed last night, I ran. I could handle things between us being just about sex. Hell, I’m even a little curious about this spanking thing he’s into, but I wasn’t ready for his tenderness. The way he cuddled me and insisted I rest while he iced my vagina made me want things that are not in the cards for us. I never expected the rush of emotions that flooded me. It wasn’t just sex for me. I could picture him being mine and us sharing a bed every night together. My frustration is with myself. I openly agreed that he would be just a fuck, and my stupid heart decided to change the rules.

  Last night, my heart chose him, and I was incapable of having a say. It doesn’t care that he’s rich, powerful, and can have any woman in his bed. He’s not mine to keep. The sad thing is, I can’t admit my reasoning for jetting out of his room in the middle of the night. I can’t describe how having his arms wrapped around me was symbolic of an hourglass—the time slowly running out until he’d let me go. I’d given up on the idea of happily ever after happening for me. No Prince Charming is coming to save me. I have accepted my fate … the life destined for me. How dare he make me want more? How dare he make me want to find out what it feels like to be loved?

  “Fancy meeting you out here,” Seth says, startling me as I step off the ship. His mock sophisticated phrases are hilarious. I honestly need the laugh.

  “Why are you just standing here on the docks? Were you waiting on me?” I tease.

  “Actually, I was trying to decide what I wanted to do first since I hadn’t originally planned to get off the ship.” He shrugs. “What about you? Where are you headed off to?”

  “No clue. Just thought I’d sightsee and take some pictures,” I remark, holding up Silas’s camera.

  “That looks like a pretty expensive camera you got there, doll cakes. I’d better accompany you, so you don’t get mugged.”

  “Ah, you want to protect me from all the potential thieves out there dying to get their hands on this baby?” I latch on the neck strap to secure it in my possession.

  “Not you. The camera. Maybe I should carry it just to be safe.”

  “What about me? Am I not worth protecting? Are you saying the camera is worth more than I am?” My jaw drops in feigned shock.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll protect you too. Besides, who will help with the work if something happens to you? I can’t be responsible for your duties along with mine. Still, let me carry the camera just in case.”

  He flashes the brightest smile imaginable. I can’t help but giggle. He is just what I need to pull myself out of this funk.

  “You’re such a weirdo, Seth. Here, I thought rich people were weird with all their kinky fetishes, but you’re one odd duck.”

  He just winks at my conclusion of his wackiness. “Come with me to go window shopping. I might get the urge to splurge and may need you to talk me down.”

  “I’ll go with you, but only to keep all the straight women off your scent. You’re not helping with all that sex appeal you’re flaunting.”

  Seth may be gay, but his masculinity is unquestionable. Muscles bulge from his jeans and fitted tee like a visual wet dream. Although he is painstakingly gorgeous and plays for the other team, my foolish blood-pumping organ has already been claimed. Still, I’m not visually impaired. The man is sexy.

  “Okay, but if we run into any hot guys, I’m telling them that you’re my baby sister.”

  “Deal.”

  We shake on it. He loops his arm through mine, and we head to look at all the things we’re not going to buy.

  We spend the day together while I take random pics … a lot of random pics. Like “someone should really take this camera from me” random pics. I didn’t stick to just landmarks either. The dated buildings are so colorful and beautiful, each structure more visually stunning than the last. Seth blames me for not getting more window shopping done. I don’t see the point, but it’s fun for him. He says that he is getting ideas to recreate his wardrobe. I’m more focused on finding exciting things to capture with my lens. It’s helping me keep my mind off Silas, and I’m getting more comfortable using the features. As I zoom in to capture a shot of a church in the near distance, I hear Seth’s phone ring, and he curses under his breath. He answers, but the conversation is cryptic with only yes and no responses. He looks around before rattling off our location. He nods as if the person on the other end of the phone can see him. What the heck is going on? His call doesn’t last long. He turns to me, and my hackles go up.

  “I have to go. I’ve been summoned.”

  “Summoned? To do what and by whom?”

  He looks genuinely disappointed, but I don’t like this nonchalant vibe he’s giving me now. I want my over-the-top friend back who oddly likes to look at things he has no plans to buy.

  “I wish I could tell you what, but I can’t. A few of us were selected for a special assignment, and I’m bound by confidentiality. I have to go back to the boat. Please don’t ask.”

  He gives me his saddest puppy dog eyes, and I melt. I can’t say that I’m not more than a little bit curious, but I won’t question him further. I respect that he’s told me as much as he has.

  “Fine. Let’s go back.”

  “Actually”—a black Mercedes pulls up, interrupting his sentence—“that’s your ride,” he finishes.

  “What? How? With who?”

  “You forgot the last two w’s—where and when,” he adds, amused.

  “Not funny! What in the …?”

  The driver of the Mercedes gets out and opens the back door. The heavily tinted windows make it impossible to see inside, but I reluctantly wave bye to Seth as he leaves in the opposite direction without answering my questions. Why couldn’t he ride back with me? Where is he going? He’s not headed in the direction of the ship. It would appear he has more secrets than he’s telling me.

  The driver just stands at the back door, waiting for me to get in. I hope I’m not being abducted because I have nobody to pay my ransom. Feeling assured that nobody in their right mind would abduct the poor, I walk over to get in the car. I’m not ready for the man I see waiting inside—Silas.

  He lowers his designer shades down his nose to look at me, and my heart does a back flip. His tan jeans hug his muscled thighs while the rip at the knees shows a little bit of skin. His t-shirt showcases what I like to call chiseled perfection with every etch on display.

  “Stop eye fucking me and get in, Brennan.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

  Suddenly, my escape from his bed last night plays on a loop in my mind, and I’m questioning just how pissed he is at the moment. He said he wouldn’t chase me, yet he did, and then I ran. He can’t be too pleased with me right now.

  I ease into the seat next to him, unsure of what to say. The driver closes the door, and the vibrations carry with it the tension I feel. This is awkward. I didn’t get this far in my thought process—like how I would feel when I saw him again. The air in the car is heavy, suffocating. I can feel him all around me, and he’s not even touching me. As if reading
my mind, his hand slides across the butterscotch leather to grasp mine. He pulls my hand back toward him, and my body instinctively follows until the heat of his hip presses against me.

  “Relax, Brennan. I’m not mad. I felt the minute you removed my arm from your body. I let you go because that’s what you needed. I gave you the space to digest everything we had done—which is also why I didn’t push for more rounds. And because you were sore.”

  I melt into him, letting him be my comfort. Pathetic and as cliché as it may seem, I’m falling fast. There’s no manual for this, and I have no clue what the hell I’m doing. I’ve never dated, let alone had feelings for anyone. Maybe it’s lust or his skill at sex. Whatever it is, it’s not something I predicted. His fingers intertwine tighter with mine.

  “I don’t know what to say, Silas.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. I understand. If it means I get to have you underneath me again, we’ll go slow.”

  “Okay.” I don’t miss his “again” statement. His intent is to fuck me again, and foolishly, I’m more than willing. We mutually agree to leave my disappearing act unexplored, but so many unsaid things lie between us. I don’t want to think about the consequences of where this is not leading. I don’t know how, but this devilishly handsome man has managed to find me on the streets of St. Maarten. I left my phone in my cabin, and he still found me through Seth. He says he doesn’t chase, but he has it down to a science. Apparently just as much as I have with running.

  “How did you know I was with Seth?” My inquiring mind won’t give it a rest. “You’re quite the detective.”

  “There’s not much that gets by me, sweetheart, not to mention my paid eyes.”

  “So do you have paid eyes on me?” I ask jokingly, but then my intuition wipes the smile right off my face. Seth’s admission about having a special assignment rocks me. Am I it? “Is Seth one of your paid eyes?” He stiffens next to me. His hesitation is barely noticeable, but it’s there.