Page 28 of Silken Chains
Scrambling for some dignity, I sit up. “Inconvenient? It’s a freaking disaster!” Tears well up unbidden. “Oh, God. What if I get pregnant?” Another panic strikes.
Shit! I've missed a couple of birth control pills. There’s been too much going on, one crisis after another—totally slipped my mind!
He does this thing with his mouth, almost a smirk. “Ever heard of the morning-after pill?”
“Oh, sure, you’re the go-to guy for contraception advice now?” I snap, my eyebrows arching in disbelief.
Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?
Stupid, so stupid.
Panic rises in my throat. “You’ve probably been with… God knows how many women. What if you’ve got something? What if I end up with AIDS?” The words tumble out.
Victor’s eyebrows knit together in a mix of annoyance and amusement, running a hand through his hair. His half-naked form exudes a raw masculinity that’s impossible to ignore. The room smells like a mix of our scents, a heady combination of sweat and the faint traces of his cologne.
Why does he have to be so ridiculously good-looking?
Fucking hell, Laura. Stop it.
Victor doesn’t flinch, looking at me with a calm, assertive air. He firmly lifts my chin, making me look at him. “You’re overreacting,” he says, his voice flat, controlled. “I’m clean, Laura. No STDs, no AIDS.”
“How can you be so sure?” My voice cracks under the strain.
“Because, Laura, I do my check up regularly.” He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face as he runs a hand through his hair again as if he can’t quite believe he has to explain this.
“And how do you know I don’t have anything?” I’m barely holding it together now.
He looks at me, his gaze firm but secretive. “I know everything about you, Laura Anne Thompson.”
What the hell is this? Am I in some kind of twisted movie?
“How? How do you know my name?” My voice is a shaky whisper.
His tone is even, almost casual. “I make it my business to know.”
Oh, my God, Laura, what have you gotten yourself into?
I’m frantically scanning the room, the full weight of what’s happened crashing down on me. Here I am, butt-naked. My red dress is in shreds, looking more like a crime scene than an outfit.
My eyes dart to my handbag. Maybe I should just grab my phone and get out of here.
Naked? Great, just great. How do I get out of this one?
“Take it easy, Laura,” he says calmly, his eyes seemingly dissecting my every thought. “You’ll stay here tonight,” he states, his authority unmistakable in his tone.
“No way,” I say, my voice quivering. “I’m heading home.”
“You’re not going back home, not a chance…” It’s like he’s tapped into my mind. “You’re safe here in my bed.” Without warning, he scoops me up and strides over to this huge, extravagant bed. He drops me onto it, and I can feel the softness of the sheets against my bare ass.
“But I- I can’t stay…” I try to protest, but his piercing gaze silences me. He smirks, his eyes dark with desire and control.
“Be a good girl and do as you’re told, or there will be consequences,” he warns in a low, dangerous voice. His domination is palpable, and I can’t help but press my lips together in submission.
Jeez, he’s like a dog with a bone.
“Look, I’m sorry about the damn condom,” Victor throws in, his tone rough yet oddly apologetic. It’s enough to stop me mid-thought.
His gray eyes lock with mine, and there’s a warmth there that unexpectedly makes my stomach churn. Words try to form, but they’re stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth.
