7
Silas
Silas didn’t sleep worth a s**t. The taste of the elfin waif lingered on his tongue long after the jail shut down, leaving quieter echoes of shuffling and snoring rather than voices around him.
Charged for murder.
How? What possible evidence could that detective asshole have found? There wasn’t any. Couldn’t be.
And yet he lay on a narrow cot in a goddamn jumpsuit rather than sprawled on his bed beside a sated boy he couldn’t get off his mind. Rather than stressing over the situation he found himself in, Silas chose to focus on earlier in the evening prior to his arrest.
The opening up and sharing with Troy while having drinks at Posh.
Their light banter that had come easily and proved enjoyable.
The softest, hungriest lips Silas had ever tasted.
He wanted more. Ached for
