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CHAPTER SIX

RACHEL

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked Silas around a mouthful of cheese Danish. He’d ordered us coffee and fresh pastries from early morning hotel room service. They reminded me of a bakery around here Taylor and I would always sample before heading home on the subway.

I’d sampled a lot on the way home from my day trip to Williamsburg this time, and I was grateful I didn’t have to pick up Taylor until the early afternoon so I could attempt to process it all.

“I think there’s no need to be shy at this point,” Silas said, a smirk twisting his lips as he sucked icing off his thumb.

“How old are you? Like late thirties?” I took a long sip from the ceramic mug as I kept my eyes on his, studying him as much and as hard as I could. I almost wished I could take a picture of him before I left for tangible proof that this wasn’t all a dream. When Silas had gone into the bathroom, I’d pinched my arm to see if I could feel any pain through my orgasm haze.

It hurt, but not as much as the idea of never seeing or talking to Silas again, which made no kind of sense. His age didn’t matter, but I wanted to know all the random details I could to plant his memory into my brain as accurately as possible.

But I was sure he and everything we’d done would replay enough in my head to stay fresh for a long while.

“I’m forty-two, so you’re close. And you’re thirty-three.” He lay next to me on the bed, propping his elbow onto the mattress and resting his head on his hand. After all the sex I’d had with this guy, and the ache between my legs from sudden overuse of my usually neglected lady parts, the sexy position he was in, combined with the playful gleam in his eye, still had me up for a lot more.

This really was a bitch.

“How did you know that?”

“I did quick math in my head. You said you were twenty when your thirteen-year-old sister was born.”

“Ah, yes. Good for you for paying attention.”

Forty-two. How was a man like this still single?

He’d even said he had no one at home to worry about and had sounded a little sad over it.

“Do you have to sell your house when you go home?”

“I rented an apartment, so I just need to figure out how to break my lease. My ex-wife took the house, so I downsized when I went on my own,” he said, swiping another Danish from the plate between us.

Ex-wife. Divorced. That hadn’t come up last night. No intimate personal details, even though we’d been very intimate in other ways.

My instincts were skeptical enough to always doubt everyone, especially men, but it was odd how much I didn’t doubt that whatever Silas shared with me was true.

If he was leaving out anything that would upset me, I was fine with not knowing. I wanted to take the good feelings about him with me after I left his hotel room since I couldn’t take anything else.

“I haven’t had Danish for breakfast in a long time, probably since I was little.” I gulped the last bit of coffee as the sting from another memory twinged in my belly. “If my mother saw me eating anything sweet, when she was actually around, she’d tell me how I needed to watch what I ate because no one would look at me if I stayed this chubby.”

Silas’s eyes narrowed in rage. “What kind of mother says that?”

“The kind she was. A crappy one.” I shrugged with a sad sigh. “I’ve always been around this size,” I motioned down my body, still naked other than the sheet draped over my torso. “Even after I became an adult, she’d always say if I just lost a few pounds, maybe men would want to date me. That was the only real sort of guidance she tried to impart. Even when I was small and would be watching cartoons, she’d say, ‘Don’t you want to put down that cookie so that you can be skinny and pretty like a cartoon princess?’”

I hadn’t spoken about my mother taunting me over my weight in a long time. I was happy with how I looked, and my lackluster love life had nothing to do with the extra pounds and everything to do with the extra baggage she’d given me.

I lifted my gaze to Silas’s, his eyes still thinned to slits. The weirdest thing about last night was the moments like this. The transcendent sex was rare, yes, but I’d told him things that surprised me when they fell out of my mouth. I didn’t tell him my last name, but I’d confessed feelings that I wasn’t sure people who’d known me all my life were even aware of. I trusted Silas in ways I probably shouldn’t have for someone I’d only just met, but talking to him seemed more natural to me than to anyone I’d ever known.

My mother hadn’t given me a body complex. It was just another way of her showing how little I meant to her, and when my sister came along and she’d treated her the same way, it had only made me resent her more. I made sure to encourage Taylor every chance I got to try to turn it around, and watching her grow up a mostly happy kid was the best reward.

But even though I’d learned to mostly self-soothe at a young age, it was too late to turn off that nasty voice in my head that would taunt me at all my lowest moments.

“I can tell you with certainty that plenty of men wanted, want , to be with you. I think most guys are like me—we’d rather Jessica Rabbit than a cartoon princess,” he said, a sexy smile coasting across his lips as he slid his hand up my thigh. Tingles from his touch ran up and down my leg even through the sheets. “And please tell me you get that reference.”

“I do,” I said, a laugh escaping me. “Although I’m not sure I’m Jessica Rabbit. She had a killer body?—”

“And so do you. Trust me.” He jerked his head toward the damp corner of the bed.

I darted my eyes away from his , my cheeks flushing hot. I’d been uninhibited enough all night and this morning not to let all we’d done sink in, but now that the sun was turning the black sky outside the window a pale pink, the light of day was already killing my buzz.

Reality was creeping up on us, and although I’d expected it to, I still hated it.

I almost hadn’t taken today off from work. Something had told me to take the extra day, even though I tried to save all my paid time off for my sister. It felt like a gratuitous luxury, but maybe fate was prepping me for a slow reentry into real life, even though I’d only escaped it for less than twenty-four hours.

I swung my legs over the bed, steeling myself for ripping off the Band-Aid and forcing myself out of this hotel room. Had I ever done a true walk of shame? Where I’d have to wear last night’s clothes home because I’d spent an unplanned night somewhere else with someone?

Even when I’d had casual sex in my younger days, I couldn’t recall waking up in someone else’s bed, other than the times I’d stay with my best friend Auden after a night of drinking to make sure she didn’t choke on her own vomit.

I’d kept men at arm’s length for as long as I could remember, yet I’d broken my own rules with a stranger.

I’d called last night a walk into an alternate universe, but really, I’d morphed into a different person. A person I wished I could be if this were another life on a different timeline.

“I’m going to get changed. If you insist on getting me a cab, it’s easier before rush hour starts.” I pushed off the bed, careful not to let the sheet slip as I padded toward the bathroom.

Silas stood, plucking my clothes from where they were strewn across the carpet. He’d slipped on his boxers to greet room service at the door, but he was naked enough for me to ogle the perfect globes of his ass and watch his back muscles flex as he reached down.

“Here,” he whispered, draping the sheet across my back as he handed me my clothes. Goose bumps trailed down my back from the graze of his fingertips. It was a sweet gesture sexy enough to make me want to drop the damn sheet and fit in one more time before I had to go, but I was out of one-more-times.

The shadows on the wall from the sun were an infuriating stopwatch, reminding me that my time was up.

Our hands brushed as I took my clothes from him, my lips itching to touch his as he gazed down on me with a sweet but sad smile. Maybe this was hard for him too.

He’d said that he didn’t want to hurt anyone else and that he was divorced. I’d bet he had baggage too, and I shouldn’t feel guilty for walking away from something not possible, but the sting in my gut was real and heavy as I trudged to the bathroom, an odd sensation like I was leaving something behind gnawing at me.

When I got dressed and stepped out of the bathroom, I peeked at my phone for any messages from my sister after I’d texted her goodnight. She was probably still slumbering away with her friends, oblivious to where her usually uber-responsible sister was and who she was with.

“Wow, twenty degrees?” I said when I read the temperature on my lock screen. “That dropped fast. March in New York is a funny thing.”

“Always was,” Silas said as he rummaged through his suitcase. He was in a hoodie and a pair of joggers, a backward baseball cap on his head. How was that even hotter than the jacket and pants from last night?

I darted my eyes away, not wanting to ponder exactly how many levels of hot Silas was as I’d lose count and never leave.

“Take this,” he said, holding up a sweatshirt. “That shirt is too light for twenty degrees.”

I froze, staring at the gray hoodie, Washington in caps across the front.

“I couldn’t?—”

“I don’t need it. I’m hot-blooded from years of being outside.” His beautiful smile deepened the pang in my gut. “I’d feel better not thinking of you freezing in the cold.”

“Silas, I can’t?—”

He ate up the distance between us, shaking his head as he draped the sweatshirt over me. It hung on me like a minidress, almost hitting my knees, his scent flooding my senses enough to make my head spin.

“You can,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “After everything—” he nodded to the messy bed behind us “—let me be a gentleman this morning.”

I laughed, dropping my eyes to the carpet before I lifted them to his somber gaze.

“You were a gentleman yesterday. At times.”

We shared a laugh.

“Thanks for not getting angry at me for punching you.”

“No problem,” he said, shifting back and forth on his feet before he stuffed his hands into his pockets, as if he wasn’t sure where to put them. “Thanks for…everything. Since that punch to the gut, it’s been really great to know you.”

My nose burned as I nodded. He didn’t know me. Not really. So why did it feel like, for the last few hours, no one knew me better?

I’d shown Silas a side of myself that I kept hidden. The one who wanted things for herself, not just to do the responsible thing. I didn’t mind being Taylor’s guardian, and I loved the chance to give her a good life and shield her from some of the issues that still plagued her big sister.

But it was nice to have a piece of something just for me, just because I’d wanted it, if only for a few hours.

I followed Silas to the elevators, a heavy but not awkward silence washing over us. What more was there to say?

We were the only passengers again when we stepped on, the doors sliding shut before anyone else could join us. Our eyes locked as he leaned against the wall, his glorious arms folded over his fantastic chest as he raked his gaze up and down my body.

We couldn’t do anything now, or anymore, but reliving the heat of last night was both exhilarating and depressing. It was all so good, and now it was over.

Silas was able to flag down a cab in less than a couple of minutes once we got outside. He smiled as he held the door open, his dark brow furrowing as his eyes darted away for a second.

“I know this breaks the unspoken rule, but what name do you write under? Like, I assume you have a pen name, right?”

I flinched for a minute, surprised at his question.

“I do,” I said, my reply slow. “Have a pen name, I mean.”

“If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay?—”

“R.M. Dioro. My initials and my grandmother’s maiden name. I’m mysterious like that.”

His throaty chuckle once again killed me.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m always looking for a good book.” His smile was almost wistful as he lifted a shoulder.

“How do you know my books are good?” I teased, smiling until he eased closer.

“Someone that passionate about writing couldn’t possibly write bad books,” he whispered, brushing my lips with a quick kiss before he backed away, holding my eyes as he reached into his pocket.

“This should be enough to get her home,” he said, leaning into the cab and handing a couple of bills large enough to be too much to the driver.

“I hope you got the inspiration you needed,” Silas said as I stepped inside.

“I got it in spades,” I told him, reaching for the door handle as he still held it open.

“Take care, Slugger.”

He finally shut the door, giving me a little wave as the driver pulled away from the curb.

He didn’t ask to see me again, and I didn’t expect him to. Silas asking to know my pen name wasn’t the same, but it was still a surprise. If he really wanted to find me, my author pages had all my social links.

I tried not to look into it because if he really wanted to speak to me again, he would have asked for a direct way. It was silly to have even a flicker of hope that I’d hear from him again. It was best to head home with all this wonderful inspiration and somehow figure out how to use it and forget about it at the same time.