The Perfect Hold

Chapter One

The apartment was bathed in the warm glow of evening, the hum of distant London traffic barely audible through the thick glass windows. Celeste closed the door quietly behind her, hoping not to disturb the tranquility of the space. She had been out longer than expected, later than she had planned. Her heart quickened as her eyes fell on the table near the kitchen, a bouquet of fresh flowers sat there, arranged with care, their soft petals catching the light.

Silas was already home.

She moved quietly into the room, setting her bag down on the counter, and then she saw him. He was seated at the dining table, his tall frame leaning back casually in the chair, the Kindle resting lightly on his thigh. His green eyes glistened in the low light, catching the faint gold of the setting sun. They had a way of gleaming, of holding her gaze with a quiet intensity that made her heart flutter no matter how many times she saw him.

He didn't look up immediately, his full lips curved into the faintest of smiles as his eyes darted on the screen. His presence, so effortlessly calm, so completely at ease, always filled the room, commanding it without even trying.

"You're late, my love," he said softly, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. He lifted his gaze then, meeting hers, and those green eyes-so gentle, so deep-locked onto her.

Celeste swallowed, her fingers brushing against the countertop. "Brunch ran a little longer than I thought," she replied, trying to keep her voice light, casual, though the unease gnawed at her. It hadn't just been brunch. Mark and Xavier had shown up unexpectedly, and she hadn't mentioned it, hadn't thought it necessary at the time. But now, under Silas's steady gaze, it felt like something she had deliberately hidden.

Silas's smile widened just slightly, his full lips curling upward, though his eyes never left hers. "I see," he said, setting the Kindle aside. His tall frame unfolded as he rose to his feet, the soft fabric of his shirt pulling against his broad shoulders as he crossed the room toward her. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. The way he walked-so smooth, so controlled-always made Celeste feel small, in the best and worst ways.

When he reached her, he brushed a lock of her hair back from her face, his fingers gentle against her skin. "I left some flowers for you," he murmured, his voice soft and warm, a quiet reminder of the affection that always surrounded him. His hand lingered in her hair, his touch reverent, as though she were something precious to him, something delicate.

"You didn't have to," she said softly, glancing at the bouquet on the table. The flowers were beautiful, perfectly arranged, just like everything Silas did. His charm was always so effortless, so natural. And yet, standing here now, she felt the familiar unease, the same tension that had crept in when she'd realized she hadn't mentioned the guys.

Silas's green eyes darkened slightly, and though his smile never faltered, she could feel the subtle shift in the air. "I didn't realize Mark and Xavier would be joining you today," he said, his voice still as soft and calm as ever, his eyes searching hers.

Her stomach knotted. Of course he knew. Silas always knew. His green eyes held hers in that way they always did, like he could see through her, see everything. And for a moment, she wished he would say more, say something real, instead of leaving the silence between them to grow.

"It was last minute," she said quickly, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "They were just passing by." She tried to smile, to brush off the lingering tension in the air, but the words felt hollow.

Silas's fingers, still resting in her hair, trailed down the side of her face, his touch light but possessive. "I see," he murmured again, his eyes never leaving hers. His smile widened, just enough to unsettle her. "I'm sure it was nothing."

There it was. The unspoken weight in his words. He never said anything outright, never accused, never questioned. But somehow, it always made her feel like she had done something wrong. Something that needed explaining.

"I should have mentioned it, I am sorry." she said, the apology falling from her lips before she could stop it. She hadn't meant to say it, hadn't meant to apologize. It was just brunch. Why did she feel the need to explain herself?

Silas's smile softened, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his lips warm and soft against her skin. "You don't need to apologize, my angel," he whispered, his voice low, soothing. "I trust you."

The words were meant to comfort, but they only made her chest tighten. Of course he trusted her. He always said that. So why did she feel like she was the one creating distance, the one letting something slip away?

"I know," she whispered back, her voice shaky, unsure. Her gaze flickered to the flowers again. Silas was always thoughtful like that, always giving and making her feel cherished. So why did it feel like she was the one pulling away?

The silence stretched between them, and Celeste could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Silas's hand slid down her arm, his touch warm and familiar, sending a shiver through her. He always had this effect on her, even when there was tension between them. Especially then.

"You've been spending a lot of time with them lately," he said softly, the words almost an afterthought as his eyes lingered on her. "Mark, Xavier... I know they're good friends." His voice remained gentle, his green eyes glinting in the dim light, but there was a weight behind the words that was subtle, but there.

Her throat tightened again, the unease growing. Silas never said too much or directly expressed discontent, but he never needed to. The way he spoke, always so loving, so understanding, left her questioning whether she was the one at fault. The guilt gnawed at her again, irrational but ever-present.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, the words slipping out again before she could stop them. She hated how easily the apology came, hated that she felt the need to say it, but it was as if something inside her demanded it.

Silas's lips curved into a soft smile, and he stepped closer, his tall frame nearly enveloping her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "You don't need to be sorry, my love," he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple. "I just miss you, that's all."

His words, spoken so softly, wrapped around her like silk. She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The tension between them melted slightly under the warmth of his embrace, but the unease lingered at the edges, refusing to fully disappear.

"I'm here now," she whispered, closing her eyes as his arms tightened around her. Was that enough?

Silas pressed another kiss to her forehead, his full lips lingering there, and she could feel the tension in her body begin to fade, replaced by something warmer, more familiar. His hand moved slowly up her back, tracing a gentle line along her spine, the touch sending a shiver through her.

"You are," he whispered, his voice lower now, more intimate. His green eyes gleamed as he tilted her chin up, his full lips brushing against hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer, and Celeste felt the weight of the tension between them shift into something else, something he always knew how to create.

His lips moved against hers, soft and unhurried, the kiss deepening as his fingers traced the curve of her hips, pulling her in. He was always so gentle, so in control, and even now, with the earlier tension still hanging between them, he knew exactly how to make her feel like she was his, like all of her worries didn't matter as long as he was there.

Silas's hands slid lower, his fingers curling around the edge of her dress, tugging it up just slightly, his lips brushing down the side of her neck. "I missed this," he whispered against her skin, his breath warm and intoxicating. His voice, always soft and captivating, always pulled her back in, made her forget everything else.

"Me too," Celeste breathed, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hand sliding beneath her dress, his touch deliberate and slow.

The tension from earlier faded completely now, replaced by the heat between them, the familiar pull of his body against hers. Silas always knew how to diffuse the tension, how to turn the moments of unease into something she couldn't resist.