Page 152 of Forged in the Fire
“That’s why you’re here,” I grated. “You’re here so I can protect you from it.”
Even though we were obviously doing a terrible job.
How the fuck that bastard got in here unnoticed, I didn’t know.
Pearce’s ass was mine, but that was going to have to wait.
Because I was rooted.
Fucking stuck.
Stuck on this woman who was making me want things I had no right to want.
Nothing but a selfish bastard who had nothing to give but pain and grief.
And there I stood, wanting to devour the temptation in front of me.
My grandmother had always urged me to go after the good things in life. To take it when it was presented because we never knew when we would no longer have the chance.
Problem was, the only thing I would do was taint it.
Ruin and spoil and desolate.
“I’m scared, Silas.” Brinley hiccupped as the admission slid between her plush, pouty lips.
Her simple words gripped me in a chokehold.
Energy lashed.
Since the moment I met her, she had always been harsh. Fierce and volatile. A hurricane rushing in to make landfall.
And now she was laying herself bare, allowing vulnerability to come spilling out.
Like she trusted me to hold her insecurities. Hold the things that had shaped her into this little fighter who refused to let anyone get to her.
“I’ll ruin you, baby.”
It was a warning for both of us.
Because I could feel the distinct break that had been made. Something inside of Brinley had shattered apart when that monster had come through the door, same way as it’d done me.
“Why don’t I care? Why do I want you to?” she whispered through the torment.
“Because maybe you’re as reckless as me.”
Wild curls framed her gorgeous, stunning face, tight body clad in another one of those tiny dresses that had been slowly driving me out of my mind.
Cream colored fabric hugging her curves, her trembling legs swinging off the edge of the desk.
A glutton, I slowly wedged myself between them.
There was so much confliction in her gaze, I couldn’t quite make sense of it.
A whirring of convoluted air that spun her into mayhem.
Need and desperation and something that looked far too close to trepidation.
Those wild eyes devouring.
