Chapter 9

A dull ache settles inside my chest as I twine my hand with his, a motion that seems as natural as breathing even though I only met him a few hours ago. Normally, when men tell me to do something without asking, like going on adventures with them, I’ll rebel. But there’s a soulful gentleness that draws me to him.

He said he’s taking me on my last adventure for the night, but I don’t want tonight to end. I want to know more about this quiet man who seems to hold the depths of the ocean inside him yet unwilling to share his burdens with the world.

I want more adventures with him.

He leads me out of the diner onto the dark streets. The temperamental rain has now receded into a light drizzle, not heavy enough to drench my clothes, but enough to mist my hair and face.

Silas squeezes my hand and tugs me toward Hudson River Park. His stern face is unemotional, but I sense a deep sadness inside him. His jaw twitches before he glances back at me and smiles, the brief flash of pain in his eyes squeezing my heart.

I wish he’d tell me what was bothering him. I want to understand him, this mysterious man. I want to make him feel better.

I shiver from the night chill and Silas shrugs out of his leather jacket and drapes it over my shoulders before tugging me flush against him. His scent of amber and sandalwood wraps around me like a protective embrace. Walking beside him, I feel safe despite the empty streets, the strange sounds of critters roaming in the dark, the menacing shadows of lurkers standing next to alleyways .

Minutes later, he leads me to the railing at the far end of Pier 66 in Hudson River Park. Standing behind me, he curls his heated body against mine, and I no longer feel the light drizzle of the rain or the dampness of the air. Instead, my nerves are attuned to his quiet breathing puffing against my neck.

I fight every urge to lean back, to press my curves against his hardness as a sultry heat swirls between us.

“What are we doing here?” I whisper, staring into the glimmering dark waters of the Hudson, which are half-hidden in the thick fog shadowing the atmosphere.

“If we’re lucky, and I have a feeling with you…we will be.” A light murmur, the vibration I can feel down my spine and my breathing quickens. “We’ll see the sunrise.”

He presses against me, his hands wrapped around my waist, fingers grazing my dress, and every atom in my body comes alive with each gentle caress.

We talk about our greatest fears, with mine being departing this world without leaving an imprint behind and his being losing his loved ones. From the sorrow in his deep voice, I know he has experienced gut-wrenching loss before.

We share stories of our childhood—how I’d create imaginary friends to keep me company when my parents were jet-setting around the world, leaving me behind with an army of nannies. He says I must’ve felt lonely, and I deserve more. My chest clenches at his words. He recognizes the emptiness inside me.

He tells me about his mother, whom I’ve learned had passed away when he was young. She’d sit with him in the gardens, teaching him how to paint, taking him to museums to see great works of art.

She believed in him, much more than he believed in himself.

The minutes pass by, bleeding into hours, our conversation endless, and I’m afraid it’s the beginnings of an addiction I can’t quit. A few hours tonight with him isn’t enough. I want more—conversations, sensual touches, late night pastrami and rye.

He tells me he wants the simple life—family, kids, wife. But somehow the sadness in his voice tells me he doesn’t think he’ll get it.

It breaks my heart.

Why does he feel this way? And why do I want to give him his dream?

I shake myself— don’t get ahead of yourself, Belle. This man is still a stranger.

Eventually, the first rays of sunlight pierce the clouds, the ethereal light of dawn chasing away the mystic fog—the angels vanquishing the demons of the night.

Chuckling, as if sensing my awe, he slowly turns me around to face the city.

My breath catches as I watch the dark skies part above the tall buildings and give way to the golden aurora, each glimmer catching onto the droplets of the fog, cascading into a million minuscule, incandescent sunbeams bathing the buildings in brilliant swaths of pink.

“It’s beautiful.” I sigh out a deep exhale.

My heart flutters and my soul ignites. I want to capture this moment in my designs.

Silas’s arm tightens around my waist and I feel a pressure on my hair, like he has pressed a kiss there. Goosebumps form on my forearms and I turn around, watching his gray eyes flare in the golden light.

He isn’t smiling, his face austere as a vein pulses on his forehead. A few errant strands of dark hair have fallen over, covering half of his face in shadows. With shaking hands, I reach up and gently brush his silky strands to the side. Why do you look so sad, Silas?

I feel bereft for some reason, a desperate ache blooming in my chest for something I can’t name. It’s a deep yearning—a need as essential as air to my lungs.

My fingers release his hair, and he clutches my hand to the side of his face and leans into my trembling palm. He dips his forehead to rest on mine and rakes in a ragged inhale. A burgeoning emotion rises in my chest—one at the tip of my tongue, but I can’t seem to name.

“Thank you,” he whispers .

“For what?”

Lifting my hand away from his face, he flips it over before pressing a soft kiss on the back. The spot tingles—it feels like a brand. His eyes flutter open and he stares at me.

Intense. Swirling pools I can drown myself in.

A car honks in the distance.

“I’ve called you a car to take you to wherever you want to go next, to the next yeses in your adventure,” he murmurs, a deep anguish in his voice.

“W-What?” I whisper as confusion fights with heavy disappointment. Why does this feel like goodbye? Why isn’t he asking for my number or taking me home?

My questions must have shown on my face because he answers, “I’m sorry, Anna. These few hours are all the adventures I can give you. If I were to take you home, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to help myself…”

His voice catches as his sentence trails off. He takes a step back away from me, the brisk morning wind crashing between us, a wall separating two worlds that cannot be breached.

“But why?” I ask.

I don’t understand. I want to know him better. My heart has never beat like this for another man before. There is a connection I can’t explain—why is he just giving up?

Silas shakes his head, unwilling to say more, and steps to the side.

Wetness prickles behind my eyes from a strange urge to cry, but I don’t. I’ve only known the man for a few hours and I have my pride. This has to be a side effect of the adrenaline from earlier. I won’t beg anyone to go home with me or to keep in touch with me.

Squaring my shoulders, I strain a smile. “Thank you for an unforgettable night, Silas.”

I walk toward the black sedan, every atom of my body telling me to turn back, to run toward the imposing, mysterious man standing there. Raking in a heavy breath, I shake my head and quicken my pace toward the car .

I’m not looking back. I’m not—

Suddenly, pounding footsteps echo behind me and before I know it, a strong hand curls around my wrist. With a quick tug, he spins me around.

I see a flash of furrowed brows, intense eyes glimmering with a determined light. He clasps his other hand at the nape of my neck and crushes his lips to mine.

He’s kissing me.

I’m swept away by a tsunami of heat and passion. And relief. Because he wants me just like I want him.

Silas kisses me like it’s the last kiss he’ll ever receive, the last meal of a condemned man before execution. His mouth moves against mine, his tongue dipping out to taste the seam of my lips and my mind blanks, my body a slave to the sultry sensations.

Moaning, I curl my hands around his neck, my fingers tugging at the dark strands, and he growls before he tilts my head to the side and plunges his tongue inside my mouth. His movements are dominant, his hunger palpable, and he bands his arm tighter around my waist such that I’m plastered to him from my chest to my legs, and I can feel every twitch of his hard muscles through the thin fabric of my dress.

An unmistakable hardness prods my stomach and I feel myself growing wet, wanting to rub against him, against this stranger whose last name I don’t even know, but I find myself not caring.

A year of yeses.

Somehow, I have a feeling I’ll always say yes to him.

I let out a whimper as his teeth nip my lip before his tongue laves the bite mark. I drag in a breath of air before he swallows my mouth with his again, his long fingers knotting my hair and tugging, the sudden pain a direct caress to my clit.

This is insanity, but I don’t care.

I need more. I need him. All of him.

“Oh Silas,” I moan, and he freezes .

He wrenches me away and staggers back several steps. His chest rises and falls rapidly as we stare at each other, my lungs burning with the need for more oxygen, my mouth craving for another taste of him. His face is flushed, hair mussed, eyes wild with the same inexplicable madness swirling in my veins.

My skin feels hot to the touch, my core pulsing, needing the virile man before me, who looks like he’s a beast and wants to tear into me for breakfast.

And I want him to.

I take a step forward and he lurches back, his index finger shaking as he points to the car behind me.

“ Go. Leave me,” he commands, the warmth from his face seconds ago morphing into a fierce coldness.

I flinch, the backs of my eyes burning, and I swallow my retort.

I won’t beg for his kisses. By why does everything hurt so much?

His face is remorseless as I turn away and dash toward the car waiting for me, my hand clutching the fabric of my dress at my chest, a sharp pain robbing me of my breath.

And it isn’t until I’m in the car that I realize tears have drenched my face and I’m still wearing his leather jacket.