Page 8 of Silver Sinner

It's hard to ignore the flutter in my heart as I take his elbow and we begin walking out of the parking lot.

Warmth radiates from beneath his sleeve, and the material is incredibly soft for a suit jacket.

My fingers skim across his forearm and the slightest noise of amusement rises from Pierce's throat.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "Your suit jacket's just really soft. It doesn't look like it would be, y'know? Like seeing jeggings. They look like jeans, but they feel so soft."

"I have an excellent tailor," Pierce replies. "He takes great care in making sure I'm as comfortable as I can be."

"Not a jeans and t-shirt kind of man then?"

Pierce laughs gently and his tanned skin takes on a darker tone as we walk beneath amber streetlights dotted up the sidewalk. "No, not a jeans and t-shirt kind of man."

"That's fair." We walk slowly with Pierce controlling the pace, not that I mind. My burning anxiety had me aching to rush home and drown myself in a hot shower and wine, but now that we're walking so casually, each step seems to melt that desire away.

A cool breeze cuts through the air, weaving around parked cars and empty buildings standing like silent soldiers along the sidewalk.

The clatter of a metal shutter rings distantly through the air, mingling with the occasional squeal of a car horn and the rumble of trucks weaving through the night with their deliveries.

We walk in silence for a few blocks and finally, I'm breathing without tension.

"Thank you."

Pierce tilts his head and looks down at me.

His silver hair glitters like silver veins cut in stone in the passing lights, and as he smiles, the wrinkles around his eyes deepen.

As weathered with age as he is, there's a distinct handsomeness that shines through, along with an air of sexiness that leaves my heart fluttering as much as it brings me peace.

Maybe it's his eyes. Or how polite he is.

"What are you thanking me for?" he asks softly.

"For earlier. I know you apologized, but I don't think that's necessary. I've dealt with horrible people like that before, so I'm not sure why that was so different. But thank you for stepping in to help me."

Behind us on the road, a cyclist races past with the rattle of a chain and a squeak of brakes when they reach the corner.

"You're welcome," Pierce says and his jaw tightens suddenly, cutting a sharp edge into his features. It's almost like he's still angry about the whole thing, angrier than even I am. "You didn’t deserve to be treated or spoken to in such a disgusting manner. My only regret is that I let them walk out of there."

My brows lift. Now that the utter humiliation of the moment has faded, what Pierce did for me was rather hot.

No one else in that diner moved, not even any of the other regulars. But Piece stood between me and those assholes like some kind of knight, and it might be the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed.

He didn't waver.

He didn't back down. He just acted and protected me until those assholes left.

"Lunch is on me the next time you visit. Same for your friend."

"That's very generous, but you don’t need to put yourself out."

"It's not putting me out. It's the least I can do. I don't think anyone's ever defended my honor before, so the least I can do is buy you lunch."

Pierce tightens his hold on my arm ever so slightly as we cross the road, almost as if he's preparing to throw me out of the way of danger should a rogue speeding car race around the corner.

By the time we reach the opposite sidewalk, my heart is fluttering like a butterfly trapped in a cage, and it only worsens when he meets my gaze.

"Then I would be delighted. My only suggestion is that if Moses tries to buy the steak, you refuse."