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  pads of his fingers inside me pressing against that most sensitive place.

  "Silas...you...should...stop."

  He paused. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked. "Be damned sure about that."

  No. That wasn't what I wanted.

  What did I want again? I pressed against his hand.

  "That's a no, then," he said. "You want me to keep going."

  "Yes," I said.

  But he didn't move. Instead, he ran his tongue over my earlobe, breathed heat against me. "Say it, then."

  "Yes. Keep going," I said, my voice nearly a whine.

  He made a clucking sound with his tongue. "You really need to learn manners and courtesy," he said. "Ask me nicely."

  I laughed, turned my face to meet him, my lips grazing his. "You're joking."

  He rolled his thumb over my clit. "Hardly," he said. "What do you want, Tempest? If you want me to keep going, you should say it - please, Silas, bring me to the edge, make me come right here, on your fingers."

  I opened my mouth, my head clouded by desire. God, it would be so easy, so incredibly easy, to just say please. To beg Silas, the way he wanted me to.

  But fuck that arrogant son of a bitch.

  "No," I said, my eyes trained on his. "You know I'm not that kind of a girl."

  "The kind who says please?" he asked.

  "The kind who begs," I said, coming to my senses. Who the hell did Silas think he was, waltzing back into my life, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck, and telling me what to do? Telling me he was going to fuck me senseless if I just asked him politely?

  The corners of Silas' mouth turned up. His fingers still lodged firmly inside me, he leaned close to me, kissed me on the lips, this time gently, taking my lower lip between his teeth and tugging at it before letting it go.

  Then he slid his fingers from between my legs, and brought his hand to his mouth. Slowly, he ran his tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips. "You taste exactly the same."

  I flushed, a mixture of sexual frustration and irritation at Silas for his arrogance. For his damn game playing. And irritation at myself, for the way that, when he said the word taste, the image of him naked, lying back as I took him in my mouth, flashed in my mind.

  I couldn't help but wonder if he tasted the same.

  And the fact that I was wondering pissed me off.

  "I should let you get back to your friends," I said. Meanwhile I needed to go take a cold shower. I winced at the throbbing between my legs.

  Something that looked like surprise flitted across his face, and I felt a sense of smug satisfaction. Did he think I was really going to cave and beg him to do me right here? Now that his touch wasn’t distracting me anymore, the idea seemed stupid. Silas had always been cocky.

  "Yeah," he said. "It's been an...interesting...reunion."

  He stepped back, and I remembered something. I reached for my purse on the nearby table "Wait."

  Silas paused. "What?"

  "Here." I pulled out the medal, the decision impulsive, before I had the chance to reconsider. It had served its purpose - it was a reminder of what had been between us, a long time ago. But it wasn't lucky.

  We hadn't been lucky together. We’d been exactly the opposite.

  Silas turned it over in his hand, his brow furrowed. "My state championship medal," he said.

  I nodded. "I figured you knew I'd taken it."

  He looked up at me. "You kept it."

  I laughed. "Did you think I pawned it or something?"

  He stood still, unmoving. "No. Yeah. Hell, you took my savings. Why wouldn’t you pawn it?”

  "First of all,” I said, “It’s a wrestling medal. It’s not made of gold. Second, what are you talking about? I never took your savings."

  "When you left," he said. "You ran off with the money I'd saved up to get out of West Bend. Taking the state championship medal, that was just the icing on the cake."

  I shook my head slowly. "No," I said. "The medal was the only thing I took. I felt badly enough about that. And about the leaving. I wanted to tell you in person, but I left the note instead. Your mother -"

  Silas interrupted me. "What note?"

  "I left a note in your room the day my parents and I left town."

  "No," Silas said. "There was no note. Stuff was just gone."

  "Didn't your mother tell you?" I asked reflexively before I realized. "No. Of course she didn't. She wouldn't have."

  Silas looked at the medal in his hands, then back up at me, his expression hard to read. "All this time," he said. "I thought you'd just taken off."

  "You thought I’d taken off without saying anything?" I asked. "And stealing your savings? I knew what that money was for. It was to get out of West Bend, to get away from your father."

  He looked at me. "Us," he said. "It was supposed to be for us."

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. "Yes," I said. "And for us."

  "We were going to get married," he said, turning the medal over and over in his hand.

  "You don’t have to remind me,” I snapped. “It’s not like I forgot.”

  I couldn't forget. Even if it had been a lifetime ago.

  "I hated you," Silas said. "For a long time, I hated you."

  I nodded, blinking, biting my lower lip to distract myself from the tears that threatened to well up in my eyes. "I know."

  "Why did you keep it?" he asked, stepping forward again, closer to me.

  "Luck," I said. It was the automatic response I gave when Iver and Emir and Oscar had asked me about it, immediately followed by the honest answer. "I needed a reminder. Of you. Of us."

  Silas looked at me for a long moment, his gaze steady. For a moment, it was like he was that same boy again, the one I had loved before. "Okay," he said. "A reminder of us…”

  But his words weren’t wistful. They held all the promise of what he wanted to do to me, and I shivered. Standing on my tip-toes in my high heels, I brushed my cheek against his. "Take me somewhere," I whispered. "Somewhere that's not here."

  "Ask me nicely," he said.

  "Please."

  He made the same sound again, that low growl that suggested he was about to bend me over and take me right here. "Let's go," he said, his hand on the small of my back.

  We walked back inside, through the bar, Silas' friends staring at us as we passed. "Lucky son of a bitch," one of them said, whistling low under his breath.

  Turning my head, I winked over my shoulder as we passed them.

  "Excuse me." The maitre'd stopped us as we left. "Ms. Jameson."

  "Yes?" I was distracted by thoughts of Silas and what I wanted him to do to me.

  "The gentlemen who were with you earlier?"

  I glanced across the restaurant at the empty table. "Yes?" I asked. "They left?"

  He nodded. "They said that you would be taking care of everything.”

  I laughed. "Of course they did," I said. "Add the bill to the room, if you would, please."

  "Of course," he said. "And, Ms. Jameson, they said to tell you goodbye."

  "I see," I said.

  Silas' hand was on my arm as we left the restaurant. "Is everything okay?"

  If you leave a group of grifters alone for thirty minutes, they'll find a way to stick you with the bill, even if you're one of them. "Everything is just fine," I said. "I believe we have a suite to ourselves."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SILAS

  We paused outside Tempest’s hotel room door, and I wondered if she was going to reconsider and tell me to get lost. But she didn’t. Instead, she looked up at me, her eyes wide, and did that thing with her tongue again, the thing where she ran it over her bottom lip. And all I could think about was bruising her lips with mine.

  I remembered the way her tongue felt on my skin, how her sweet mouth felt wrapped around my cock. The thought sent warmth flowing through my body, rendered my dick immediately hard.

  "Here it is," Tempest said, her voice breathy. That breathy voice