Page 116 of The Oath We Give

My soul aches, heart actually skipping a beat and resetting rhythm. I bite the inside of my cheek, afraid.

Because I actually believe him. My heart trusts him, and I refuse to let my brain accept it. That for the first time in a very long time, I trust someone. I believe their words.

I’ve never believed in words the way I believe his. From the moment we spoke in the hospital, even then, as guarded as I was, I believed him when he said I could call him. It’s why I dialed his number because somewhere deep beneath all my suffering, I knew I could trust him.

And my body? My body wants him.

Desperately.

My heels click against the floor as I step forward, swallowing my pride in the name of pleasure. But he holds a palm up at me, motioning for me to stop.

“You want me?” He tilts his head, shadows splaying across the contours of his handsome face. “You’ll crawl.”

Book made for [email protected]

TWENTY-SEVEN

CRAWL

CORALINE

I’m notsure what’s worse, him forcing me to vocally admit how badly I want him or him making me show him just how much my body needs him.

A shaky breath skates past my lips as my thumbs hook on the thin straps of my dress. The slip-like material slides from my shoulders, cascading down my body like water. In one fell swoop, the material sinks to the floor.

I step out of the pool of orange fabric circling my feet, leaving me only in a pair of heels and my lacy underwear. I’m utterly exposed to his eyes, no barriers between my flesh and his gaze.

This is the worst part, I think.

Letting him see me, what my body looks like, what Stephen left on it. I left the basement, but the basement still lingers on my skin. A jagged white scar that starts on one shoulder crosses my collarbone and stops at the other. Little marks across my knees and thighs, and although he can’t see them, I feel the shame from the paddle marks on my back. There are only a few, but they’re noticeable up close.

My body is not a smooth surface. It’s rigid and bumped with scars. It’s not sexy—it’s repulsive.

“Fuck.”

I meet Silas’s eyes, and my breath catches.

His eyes don’t inspect me, measuring every imperfection, marking every blip.

No, they admire me.

They hungrily eat up the sight of my bare skin, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. It’s enough to start a small fire in my stomach, a sliver of confidence returning to my body.

Carefully, I kneel, placing my hands on the floor in front of me. My heavy-lidded eyes pierce his as I start to crawl, hair cascading around my shoulders, letting myself feel unashamed of my desire.

When I reach the space between his thighs, I raise up on the backs of my thighs, placing my hands on his strong legs.

Silas leans forward, grabbing my chin between two fingers. “Pout those pretty fucking lips and say please.”

I bite my bottom lip softly. “Please, Silas.”

As if rewarding me for my begging, his fingers undo the button of his slacks, standing up to his full height and towering above me. I have to stretch my spine to place my face in front of his waist, sitting up on my knees. Everything about Silas makes me feel small in his presence.

I lay my hands flat against his thighs, watching as he pushes down his slacks and boxers until his hard cock slaps against his abdomen, making my mouth water and nerves pool in my gut.

It’s as thick as my wrist, and I don’t even want to quantify how many inches. Because I’m not exactly sure that many inches will fit into my much smaller body.

“Stick your tongue out for me, pretty thing,” he orders, staring down at me with quiet demand in his eyes.