Page 117 of Love By Design

It was one of the many things I loved about him.

Unfortunately for us both, I’d had too much wine to be of any use to him. I’d left my car in the parking lot and let Smith drive me home. When he saw Silas’s car in my driveway, he made an amused sound but didn’t tease or chide me the way Finn often did.

Deciding to let Silas finish up in the shower in peace, I padded into the bedroom and stripped out of my work clothes. After changing into a pair of plaid pajama pants, I sat down on the edge of the bed and prayed the room didn’t start to spin while I waited for Silas. Thankfully, the floor and the walls remained at the correct angles, and then Silas was in front of me, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist, held loosely in his hand.

“You’re home,” he said, a little breathless and a little surprised.

I hummed, beckoning him closer. He shuffled into the space between my spread legs, and I pulled the towel out of his hand, letting it fall to the floor. His cock was almost eye level, not hard but still impressively long and thick.

“God,” I murmured, dragging my nose down his length. “I love your cock.”

Silas made a desperate sound, swaying on his feet, and I pressed gentle kisses from root to tip, licking the taste of him straight from his slit.

“Sir.”

“I think if I close my eyes long enough to make you come, the floor might come out from under me.”

I tried anyway, letting my eyes fall closed as I licked the underside of his glans. It was too late, and I was too deep. Reluctantly, I let go of his cock and bracketed my hands over the slender swell of his hips. I leaned in and kissed the barely there V that dipped down below his waist.

Humming, I pulled away.

“Are you drunk?” Silas asked, laughing under his breath.

“Not drunk, but also notnotdrunk. And it doesn’t help that I find you positively irresistible.” I kissed his navel, and an inch lower, then took his hands in mine and kissed his knuckles. “Do you want to go to bed or watch a movie?”

Slowly, Silas lifted his hands and slid his fingers into my hair. And maybe it was the wine buzzing through my blood, but it felt a lot like magic.

“A movie is good if you can manage it,” he murmured. “And a snuggle? Sir?”

I pressed my cheek against his stomach, wrapped my arms around his waist and breathed him in. My earlier thoughts aboutmyhouse faded into oblivion as if he ever made the decision to leave me, I had no idea how I’d ever go back to existing without Silas in not just my space, but also my life.

“A snuggle sounds like a dream, sweetheart. A snuggle sounds like a dream.”

CHAPTER 35

SILAS

On my knees at the edge of the bed, I tied the knots on Marshall’s shoes, then rocked back onto my heels so he had enough room to stand. Me helping him get dressed had become part of our morning routine, and even though I was getting ready to start my new job with Cory this morning, I stuck to it. The only thing different from the mornings before was that instead of being in pajamas or naked, I was also dressed for work—casual, Cory had assured me—in navy blue chinos and a white, short-sleeved button-up. Marshall was in slacks as usual, which had always felt over the top for our line of work, but I’d never complain about how he filled them out in every possible way.

“Text me when you can, and let me know how it’s going,” Marshall said, helping me to my feet. It wasn’t a question, but the command didn’t need saying. He was the first person I wanted to tell everything, even first over Lincoln now in some instances.

“I will, Sir.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out that was small enough to fit in his fist.

“Open,” he instructed, and at first I thought he meantmy mouth, but then he moved his hand between our chests like whatever he was holding he meant to transfer into my hand.

I lifted my flat palm beneath his hand, not needing to look at the transfer to know he’d just dropped a key into my waiting hand.

“I am not asking you to move in,” he said quickly, almost regrettably, “but I want you to be here as often as it suits you.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew a permanent key had been coming. It made sense. It was logical. Marshall had a house all to himself, and I had a shared two-bedroom apartment. I would have offered him a key in return, but this exchange wasn’t like the kind that happened between mid-twenty-somethings. Marshall giving me a key to a home he’d bought with his own money was so much different than a copied key to a month-to-month rental.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He curled my fingers toward my wrist, capturing the key in the palm of my hand. I slid my hand into my pocket, letting the key drop past my fingers. “You don’t have to call before you come over. You don’t have to text. Treat my home as if it was also yours.”

“Marshall.”