Page 15 of Silken Chains
I look up at him, eyes wide. That intoxicating masculine energy envelops me. He pulls me closer, and my head hits his hard chest.
Holy hell.
I’m about one deep breath away from making a scene that would make a romance novel look G-rated.
Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I catch a few of Mr. Grabby Hands’ cronies shifting, their intentions clear. They’re gearing up for a brawl, probably hoping to even the odds. Bad idea. Before they can make their move, a pack of sturdy men in crisp black suits, who apparently accompany my mysterious defender, step in, forming a barrier between us and the incoming threat.
Who are these guys? Ninja bouncers?
But what takes the cake is the main event: Mr. Grabby Hands, perhaps fueled by liquid courage or sheer stupidity, makes a move toward the man, clearly underestimating the situation. Bad move. In a swift motion, my defender sidesteps, grabs his arm, and twists it behind his back, pushing him down to his knees.
“Consider this a warning, Roberto,” he hisses into Mr. Grabby Hands’ ear while maintaining a vise-like grip. Roberto, now clearly regretting his life choices, nods fervently, hoping to escape this night with all limbs intact.
Releasing him, my defender stands tall, watching as Roberto and his posse stumble away, clearly outmatched and outclassed.
Turning those fierce eyes to me, he asks, “You okay?” His voice is a blend of concern and restrained power, making my heart race.
Breathe, Laura, breathe.
His gray eyes delve, holding me captive in an unbreakable stare.
“I…”
Oh, dear lord.
My pussy stirs from her eight-month hibernation and urgently signals that despite this man radiating strong “commitment-phobe with dominance tendencies” vibes, she’s absolutely up for a wild ride.
Stop it. Damnit.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I manage a shaky, “Yeah, thanks to you. But you really didn’t need to put on a show just for my benefit…” My voice accidentally ramps up a notch. “And that whole ‘my woman’ thing…” Suddenly, my volume drops, heat creeping up my face.
His eyes darken, boring into mine.
“Who says it was an act?”
I blink.
Excuse me?
Before I can question more, his gaze does a quick sweep over me. “Bad choice, wearing that here.”
What the hell?
Rude. “Last I checked, my wardrobe wasn’t up for discussion,” I retort, my chin rising a notch.
His left cheek twitches into a half-smirk, and I realize his hand is still glued to my waist.
He then glances at my too-tight top, a smug look on his face. “You’re gonna need clothes that can handle the… overflow,” he says, eyeing my tits.
Give me a break.
Enough’s enough.
I glide past him, leaving his self-assured bubble.
“Until we don’t meet again,” I quip without looking back.
Chapter 6
