[ WARNING!: MATURE CONTENT]
Evelyn pressed the plaster lightly onto his cheek, her fingers brushing over the thin line of the cut. Silas winced, but his eyes didn't leave hers, they darkened, sharp and unreadable, yet smoldering underneath. She let her fingers linger, drifting over the curve of his jaw, tracing the edge of his lips.
"You're still my suspect," she murmured, letting her voice dip soft and teasing.
"And I'm still your detective," she continued, letting her fingers roam slowly, deliberately.
"No matter how hard you try to bend me to obey you."
Silas's smirk widened. His dark eyes followed every movement, shadowed with restraint. He shifted slightly, breath catching when her fingers drifted to his lips.
"Beautiful," he murmured, almost quietly, thumb brushing lightly over the back of her hand.
Evelyn leaned closer, tilting his chin with a gentle, confident pressure. Her fingers traced the soft line of his lips, teasing, daring.
"If I kiss you, Silas… will you surrender yourself to the cops?" she whispered, her voice soft and warm, brushing against him. "So soft… rough… and pink… just like flowers."
He swallowed audibly, a sharp breath escaping as her fingers slid to the side of his neck. The subtle graze of her skin against his pulse made him tense—fingers flexing, jaw tightening, but he said nothing, letting the restraint show in his eyes.
"You're awakening a monster," he said, low and measured, voice thick with something unspoken.
"One you might not be able to tame, flower."
Evelyn's lips curved into a mischievous smirk. She pressed her fingers a little harder to his jaw, dragging them lightly along his cheekbone.
"Then perhaps you should surrender to me, Silas," she whispered, voice trembling slightly with amusement, daring him.
His breath hitched; he blinked slowly, trying to control the sudden heat rushing through him. His hand twitched, as if it wanted to move, but he held himself back.
"You… you think you can tame me?" he asked, low, dark, almost a growl, each word measured but rough at the edges.
"I'm not taming," she said, fingers now brushing the sensitive curve beneath his ear.
"I'm… testing. Seeing how much you'll resist. How much you'll let me take."
Silas's jaw flexed. He leaned slightly toward her, dark gaze sharpening.
"You're… dangerous," he breathed, fingers flexing but staying at his sides, fists of self-control. "Every inch… every word… you're… awake something in me I can't—"
"You can't resist, Silas," she whispered, letting her fingers trace down to his collarbone, teasing the edge of the shirt.
"You want to surrender… don't you?"
The words, the touch… it was too much. He tilted his head back slightly, exhaling through his nose, trying to gather the control that was slipping. And then, just as her fingers curled slightly around his wrist, he captured her hand, pressing his palm over hers, holding it against him.
"Do you feel the difference?" he asked, dark and steady, voice low, the heat in it undeniable. "Between rough and smooth… small and broad?" His thumb traced the back of her hand slowly. "Between my control and what you awaken?"
And then… suddenly, he pulled her closer, settling her carefully onto his lap. Her smirk faltered into a sharp gasp as her body pressed against his. Shock and heat surged through her, chest fluttering, breath catching.
Evelyn shivered at the touch, every nerve alive under the press of his warmth, the firm hold of his hands. She hadn't expected him to act so boldly, yet there was something in the way he held her—measured, powerful, and intimate—that left her both startled and yearning.
"If you're going to do it… do it already," Silas murmured, dark and low, his gaze holding hers like a challenge.
Her own heartbeat thundered, mind racing. She swallowed hard, looking away, trying to steady herself. Geez, Evelyn, what have you done? Where's the bravery? she scolded herself silently, aware of how tightly he gripped her waist.
He chuckled softly, noticing the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead, that fluttering tension he called out so easily.
"You need a bath," he said, lips curling into that infuriatingly charming smile that made her stomach twist.
"W… what?" she stammered, chest tight.
Silas stood, still holding her against him at the waist. "You're… sweaty," he teased, dark amusement in his eyes.
"I'm not!" she protested, squirming lightly.
He smirked, letting the corner of his mouth twitch with that dangerous playfulness. "You do like it the harder way, don't you?"
"What—" she started, but before she could finish, he scooped her up effortlessly, one arm under her but, the other resting firm at his sides.
"Silas! Put me down!" she cried, kicking lightly, hands flailing.
He only chuckled, adjusting her on his shoulder like she weighed nothing. "Too light for a feisty flower."
"Put me down, Silas!" she protested again, heart racing, cheeks burning.
He smirked, adjusting her slightly, his thumb brushing lightly against her side. "Don't worry. I won't touch anything without your consent," he murmured, though the teasing in his voice made her gasp sharply.
"You're harassing a detective, Silas!" she hissed, voice trembling despite her defiance.
He scoffed, dark amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'm fulfilling your wish. You're proud of that title, aren't you?"
They reached her bedroom door. He gently set her down. "Now, be a good girl and bathe," he said, voice smooth but commanding. "I'm expecting visitors tonight. I don't want you scenting like dust and flowers—it confuses the senses."
"You're ridiculous," she muttered, brushing off his hand instinctively.
" What now? You want to bathe me?" She teased rolling her eyes.
He chuckled, leaning lightly against the doorframe, eyes dark with amusement. "Is that a request?"
"N…no… I… you…" she stammered, flustered.
"'You… I… we… they?'" he teased mockingly, tracing the air with his fingers like a predator circling his prey.
"Yes… no… perhaps?" she whispered, closing her eyes, heat rising.
"No… go away," she added, biting her lip, cheeks flushing.
Before she could finish, Silas wrapped a towel around her shoulders, smirking.
"I'll just pretend your body doesn't scream Silas, Silas hurry up and bathe me," he murmured, voice low, teasing, as he turned away chuckling.
Evelyn bit her lip, letting out a soft groan, caught somewhere between exasperation and that intoxicating pull of desire.
"You have forty-five minutes, sweetheart," he continued walking, voice low and deliberate, each word dragging through the air like silk.
"Or… I'll come get you myself." His pause made her pulse spike. Then, dark and teasing: "Bare… or not."