Page 21 of Illusionist
“Am I?” His hand rises, fingertips barely grazing my cheek. “Your pulse is racing.”
I should step back. Should maintain the boundaries I laid out earlier. Should remember that I'm here to hide, not to get tangled up with a man.
Instead, I tilt my face into his touch.
“The performance was...” I search for words that won't betray how much I want him. “It was good. We work well together.”
“We do.” His thumb traces along my jaw, sending shivers down my spine. “The question is what we're going to do about it.”
“Nothing.” The word falls flat even to my own ears. “I told you—I need this job. I can't afford complications.”
“What if I want to be your complication?”
The question is loaded with promise and threat in equal measure. His eyes search mine, looking for cracks in my armor.
And God help me, he's finding them.
“Silas.” His name comes out like a warning.
“Say it again.”
“What?”
“My name. Say it like you did out there, when you were unlocking my chains.”
The memory makes my thighs clench—the way his name fell from my lips while I worked, breathy and desperate. The way his body went rigid when he heard it.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Liar.” He steps closer, backing me against the vanity. “You said it like a prayer. Like you were worshipping at some dark altar.”
My hands find the edge of the vanity behind me, gripping it for support. “You're delusional.”
“Then prove it.” His other hand braces beside me, caging me in. “Say my name now. Just once. If it doesn't affect you, it shouldn't be a problem.”
It's a trap. But looking into those blue eyes, feeling the heat radiating from his body, I can't bring myself to care.
“Silas,” I whisper.
His jaw clenches. “Again.”
“Silas.” Louder this time, but still breathless.
Something dangerous flickers across his face. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
Before I can answer, his mouth crashes against mine.
The kiss is fire and need, all the tension from our performance pouring out in desperate hunger. His hands frame my face while I grip the vanity behind me, anchoring myself against the storm.
He tastes like sin and promises, like everything I should run from and everything I want to devour. When his tongue traces my lower lip, I open for him without thinking.
The sound he makes—part growl, part groan—sends liquid heat straight to my core.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my mouth. “I've wanted to do that since the moment I saw you.”
“Silas—”
“Say it again.” His lips find my throat, teeth grazing against sensitive skin. “Say my name like you need me.”
