Page 119 of Forged in the Fire
She took her phone from her pocket, stared at it, anger rising up so fierce inside her. But right then, she didn’t have time for pride.
So she tapped out the message.
Brinley
Dad, please call me back. We’re in a bad way. We need your help.
But he hadn’t cared before, so she should have known he wouldn’t care then.
I startled awake, though not in a full panic the way I normally did.
I guess maybe it was the heavy heat that saturated me through that kept it contained.
Like I was wearing a ten-thousand-pound security blanket.
A blaze of warmth that filled the cold, dead places inside me as I blinked my eyes open to the bare, fluttery light that cast the room in glittering motes as morning climbed to the sky and streaked through the thin drapes.
I had the urge to snuggle deeper into that comfort, only I froze when it became very apparent the blanket I was wearing was a breathing, living thing.
Deep, long breaths panted into the nape of my neck. A tattooed arm draped around my waist. A strong, foreboding body plastered to my backside.
My heart rate increased. Sped and raced and thudded at my chest. Right where he had one of those malicious hands spread over the spot, as if maybe even in his sleep, he was trying to hold it in.
But I knew better than to think Silas was doing any of this out of care. I needed to remember his secure arm was a shackle.
Holding me in place and keeping me prisoner to his will.
With that in mind, I tried to slip from under his grasp, only his arm tightened as gruff, sleep-weary words whispered from his lips.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Surprise locked me in place, his tone rippling over me like a raspy caress. The confusion and need he evoked in me zapped like a downed powerline across my flesh.
He pressed himself closer, and a tiny gasp catapulted out of me when I felt his cock pressing to the cleft of my ass.
The thinnest amount of fabric separated us. It didn’t come close to being enough to conceal the granite, desperate length of him.
I should be terrified.
Freak out.
Break out of his hold.
Fight him.
Fight this.
Fight the sensation that swamped me like murky, muddy bog.
What did I do instead? I sank back into the comfort I shouldn’t feel, no consideration as to what it would cost.
Into the steady pound of Silas’s heart that somehow slowed the mania that toiled in my spirit.
I shouldn’t find respite in him.
He was the enemy. A liar. A bad man.
I knew it as well as I recognized my own reflection, which even that seemed to be becoming warped right then.
