Before Ivy could respond...he suddenly scooped her up into his arms.
The movement was swift yet careful, his grip firm but gentle.
Ivy let out a small, startled sound, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.
"Silas!"
But he didn't stop.
With an easy stride, he carried her toward the master bedroom, his expression relaxed, almost smug, as if he had already won a silent battle only he understood.
The door closed, sealing them in the soft, private world of their bedroom.
Silas didn't wait.
He turned, his hands already on Ivy's waist, pulling her against him.
His lips found hers not with gentle inquiry, but with hungry possession.
It was a kiss that spoke of pent-up longing, of a deep, simmering need finally given permission to boil over.
Ivy met him with equal fire. Her fingers tangled in his blonde strands, pulling him closer.
Their mouths moved together in a wild, wet dance, breaths mingling, tongues exploring with urgent passion.
