Page 10 of Love by Design (Club Rapture: Risk Aware #1)

MARSHALL

I t was a curious thing, how I’d gone thirty-nine years without speaking to Silas daily, but after plucking him off that bench on a Friday and very nearly kissing him on a Saturday, six days of silence was akin to absolute torture.

“You,” Finn said, sliding into his usual seat across from me, “look distracted.”

“You just got here,” I drolled, taking a lazy drink of my wine.

It was Friday night again, time for our usual dinner, and I was first, as always, with Finn not far behind. I gestured to the drink I’d already ordered for him and leaned against the back of the booth with a weary sigh.

“You’re exhaling dramatically,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Are you seeing someone?”

“Why would my breathing indicate my dating status?”

“That’s not a no.” He grinned at me and scrunched his nose.

“What’s not a no?” Smith was next to arrive, taking the seat beside me. I’d also ordered him a drink, and one for Hunter as well.

I glanced at Smith from the corner of my eye, trying to not catalog the similarities and differences between him and Silas.

Just because they were the same age didn’t mean anything.

It meant nothing. My brother was as much his own man as I was, and same with Silas.

The age was nothing. My relationship with his father… also nothing.

“Marshall is seeing someone,” Finn said helpfully.

“I am not.”

“You are?” Smith asked, shoving my shoulder like he was angry I’d been keeping a secret from him.

In reality, if I did confess about Silas to any of my brothers, Smith would probably be the first to hear about it, with Finn being the last. Though Hunter was a vault and would probably take the secret to the grave if I didn’t willingly tell the other two.

As if to prove my point, he arrived last, taking his place next to Finn and not asking any of us to bring him up to speed on the conversation.

“I’m not,” I said again.

“Not yet.”

I glared at Finn, ready to snap. My nerves had been frayed all week, and I wasn’t sure if it had to do with work or with the way my brain never wanted to stop thinking about Silas.

The way we’d left things on Saturday after lunch was painfully open-ended, but there’d been so much promise in his words.

Tucking my hands under the table, I rubbed my thumb mindlessly over the spot he’d kissed and bitten.

I wanted to taste him for real, more than the aftertaste that came with pressing my own mouth against the heel of my hand after he left, chasing after anything I could get of him.

I wanted his teeth on me again, I wanted him hurting and desperate and snapping at the bit.

There was something wrong with me.

“Let me up,” I said to Smith, knocking my shoulder into his.

“Calling your boyfriend?” Finn teased .

“I have to piss, you degenerate.”

He laughed, and Smith slid out of the booth so I could go to the bathroom.

I’d never been more thankful for the private restrooms at Cunningham’s than I was after slamming the door closed and twisting the deadbolt.

I didn’t need to relieve myself, at least not by using the restroom.

I turned the water on cold and splashed some on my face, desperate to drop the temperature of my cheeks.

If I couldn’t get my mind off Silas, dinner was going to be excruciating, not just because of the distraction but because my brothers would see right through my lies.

I wasn’t dating anyone, but I was very interested in remedying that as soon as possible.

In the pocket of my slacks, my phone let out a quick buzz, the alert of an incoming text message.

If it was Finn teasing me about this imaginary boyfriend of mine, I would sneak out the back and abandon our Friday meals for the rest of time.

It wasn’t Finn, though. It was Silas, which was somehow worse.

That cloying energy burned at my cheeks again, and I turned to rest my ass on the counter and read what he had to say.

Tapping open my message app, a long, colored bubble filled my screen and then some. Silas apparently had a lot he needed to say.

Silas

Spoke with Landon today and he told me about Barrett’s membership being suspended.

He says you didn’t have anything to do with that, but I don’t know if I believe him.

It seems like something you would do. I also accepted responsibility for my part of the whole thing.

For under-negotiating, for ignoring what I knew were red flags.

I’m very lucky you walked in, Marshall. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for helping me, but if I didn’t… thank you.

Anyway, Landon said something that really resonated with me.

He said a partner can only hold a safe space for me if I help create it, and I didn’t do that with Barrett, but I’m going to do it with you.

I’m going to be safe by being clear. I’m terrified to send this, so I hope this doesn’t blow up in my face, but I do want the things we talked about on Saturday.

I want you to restrain me and spank me. I don’t think, no…

I know I’m not ready for gags right now, but I am a submissive, Marshall.

And I want to submit to you. I’m not asking for anything more than that right now.

A little bondage and a good spanking, maybe hopefully some rough sex too.

I don’t care that you’re older than me. I don’t care if you know my dad. This isn’t about him. It’s about us.

I read the message no less than five times, my throat growing drier and my cock harder with every pass.

Silas’s forwardness in asking for what he wanted was one of the sexiest things about him.

I’d seen it last weekend in my living room and again just now with the text message.

He wasn’t offering me a blank check with his body.

He offered me a very specific list of wants to make up a carefully controlled and well thought out scene.

I could do all the things he asked for. I wanted to do all of those things.

And I’d told him no before because I didn’t think he was ready for it, but maybe neither of us had been.

There were a few things I wanted to talk to him about, but none of them were suited for text message so my reply to Silas was short and simple

Publicly or privately?

I set my phone on the counter and splashed my face again. The pink was a permanent fixture, it seemed, only getting darker when Silas’s reply came through.

Private.

I’ll give Lincoln your address so he knows where I am and a time limit to hold out without hearing from me before calling the cops.

I huffed out an amused laugh, wondering what that breath would have given away if anyone had heard it.

You have been putting thought into this, haven’t you?

Yes.

Tonight?

What time?

I’m at dinner with my brothers right now. How does nine sound?

Nine is good. I’ll tell Lincoln if he hasn’t heard from me by eleven to send help.

Let’s make it eight, Silas. And give me until twelve.

I want to take my time with you.

eight and twelve then. At your house?

Yes. Unless you would feel safer at a hotel.

There was enough of a delay in response I knew he was actually weighing the pros and cons of my house versus a hotel.

Which would you prefer?

Silas, there will hopefully come a time between us where my preferences guide decision-making, but tonight isn’t that time.

I pushed the heel of my hand down hard between my legs, willing my unruly erection to settle back into line so I could go rejoin my brothers.

Your house is good.

Then I’ll see you at eight.

I glanced at my watch, it was just after six.

Enjoy your dinner, Marshall.

Cursing, I slid my phone back into my pocket and then tucked my cock up into the waistband of my briefs. The erection was clearly not going anywhere, but I was not going to give my brothers fodder to tease me through the whole rest of the meal.

By the time I got back to the table, the food was there, obviously ordered in my absence. I kicked the side of the booth so Smith would get out of my way, and I felt all three sets of their eyes on me as I returned to my seat.

“Is the boyfriend in the restaurant?” Finn asked, poking at his salad.

“There is no boyfriend.”

“You look like you just fucked,” he said, angling his head to the side and giving me a very slow onceover. “You’re flushed.”

“Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?”

“Very rarely,” he said with a grin.

I turned my attention down to the salmon I ate every week.

It was always properly seasoned and well-cooked.

It was predictable. Silas was not predictable.

I dropped my right hand onto the edge of the table, letting my fingers hold the weight while my palm curled around the side to steady myself.

The restaurant wasn’t tilting on its axis; that was just me.

My three brothers lapsed into a casual and teasing conversation with each other, and I managed to fight my way through half the salmon before giving up.

I turned down a third glass of wine, which earned me a raised eyebrow from Hunter, but no admonishment or question from the rest of them.

Time ticked by achingly slow, and at seven-fifteen, I bumped into Smith with my shoulder.

“Just because I only had two doesn’t mean you have to stop at two,” I said, remarking on the fact he’d quit drinking when I had.

“I didn’t have lunch,” he said back.

“Two is enough then,” I said, and Smith smiled at me. “Let me up again. I need to get home.”

He moved out of the way without argument, and Finn opened his mouth to call me out, but Hunter smacked him hard in the center of his chest.

“Everything is fine,” I assured them. “I’ve just been working long hours this week, and I’m feeling a little sluggish.”

“You work long hours every week,” Finn countered.

“And yet I still slog through to tolerate your company every Friday.”

He gave me the finger, and I gave Smith a hug.

I loved my brothers, all of them, even if they each had their own idiosyncrasies that drove me up the wall. I was sure my emotional detachment bothered them sometimes too, especially Smith, who looked up to me more than any of us ever had to our father.

“Let’s get together soon,” I said to Smith, out of earshot of the twins. “Just the two of us.”

He nodded, not giving anything away .

I left cash for my drinks and dinner, then jogged back to my car.

The drive home took a lifetime, thanks to traffic on the 405, but I made it home with ten minutes to spare.

There wasn’t time to do much besides take my shoes off and turn on the lights, pour myself a glass of wine, which was more out of habit than anything else, and then Silas was on my doorstep, finger pressed against the doorbell.

“This is fine,” I said to myself, padding my way from the kitchen to the front door. The wine remained untouched on the counter. I wasn’t going to drink it; I just hadn’t been thinking. It was routine, but Silas…Silas was not routine.

I steadied myself with another telling breath, then twisted the doorknob open and let him inside.