Page 77 of The Midnight Frequency

All I felt was the coiled need deep inside me.

Yes, my body seemed to moan, this, more.

I angled my head to the side, giving him a silent invitation.

I felt the heat of the scratch, the tiny pebble of blood on the surface, then the way Silas so thoroughly lapped it away.

My legs tightened around him as my hips rocked restlessly, needing friction, needing an end to the ache deep inside.

“Please.” I was shivering, burning, desperate for more.

A rumbling sound moved through Silas, vibrating into my own chest as his teeth nipped my earlobe.

Finally, finally, his hand slid from my hip, grazing over my ribs, then closing over my breast, fingers squeezing.

I arched up into the sensation as another throaty whimper escaped me.

“I want to take my time with you.” His breath was on the shell of my ear, making my belly tremble. “I have centuries of self-control. You’re not making it easy.”

I didn’t want self-control. I wanted this, more, everything right that moment.

Despite his words, his hips ground into me, his length sliding against where I needed him most, dragging a sound out of me that was almost a cry.

Silas lifted up at the sound, watching me with an intensity that nearly undid me as he pulled back, then ground against me again.

The moan bubbled up.

But before it could burst out, there was the sound of a hand on the doorknob, the jiggle of someone about to open it.

Before I could even register what was happening, Silas was off me, I was sitting upright, and he had dropped down in his chair, his hands laced over his lap to hide the evidence of what was being interrupted.

I crossed my own legs, but it did nothing to ease the clawing ache between. And I just knew I was flushed, that my hair was a mess, that I was still struggling to regulate my breath.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, man!” Jack’s jovial voice broke into the quiet of the studio. “Just let me grab it for you—oh.” He shot us one of his trademark easy smiles. But I watched as something in him shifted, as his head lifted and his nostrils flared.

Could he… smell the hormones in the room?

Oh, God.

He probably could. K9 shifters were super attuned to that sort of thing.

“Maggie’s office was locked by the witches,” Silas explained. “She needed somewhere to rest her feet.”

“And you?” Jack asked. Everything about the way his lips were twitching confirmed my fears. He absolutely knew what he’d just interrupted.

“Avoiding palm readers and fortune tellers.”

“I see,” Jack said, nodding. He was enjoying this way, way too much.

Jack, while being lighthearted and sweet, was one of the more reclusive members of the crew. I had no idea how much a part of the rumor mill he was. Was this information going to be water cooler chatter by the next day? Was everyone in the building going to know the station manager had hooked up with the talent? Would they assume that all the merch and advertising he was now getting was because we were intimate?

Jack’s head tilted to the side as his gaze shifted to me again. And I remembered right then what else K9s were notoriously known for being able to scent: fear.

His gaze softened. His head shook ever so slightly. Almost as if to say, You have nothing to be afraid of; I would never.

But could I trust that?

Trust him?