Page 106 of Velvet Chains
I chuckle, marveling at the way her mind works. One minute, we’re having a serious conversation about our future, and the next, she’s fixated on Mexican food.
“All right, kiska, let’s get you fed,” I say, flicking on the turn signal and scanning the street for a suitable restaurant. “Can’t have you starving on my watch.”
I see Laura grin, and it’s like someone just flipped on a damn spotlight in my dark world.
I’m totally, irrevocably fucked.
I watch Laura as she devours her third scoop of cookies-and-cream ice cream, barely pausing to breathe between bites. It’s hard to believe that just an hour ago, she polished off a massive plate of quesadillas loaded with extra guac and sour cream.
She attacks it like it’s her last meal, moaning in delight as the creamy sweetness hits her tongue.
The sight is too much.
As she licks the dripping sides of her cone, I can’t help but imagine her lips wrapped around my throbbing cock, teasing and taunting me with every lick. I shift in my seat, trying to ignore the way my cock hardens at the sight of her tongue swirling around the dripping cone.
I cough out a dry laugh, internally trying to rein in my desire.
Not the time or place, Morozov.
I force my gaze away from her mouth.
Across the small shop, a family catches my eye. A young boy, no more than five or six, is happily scooping up his own ice cream, his parents watching with fond smiles. It’s a scene of simple, uncomplicated joy, so far removed from the dark, dangerous world I’m living in.
Laura takes another long, slow lick of her cone, then sighs. “Are you going to ask me to get rid of the baby?” she asks suddenly, her voice quiet but steady.
I turn to face her, my heart clenching at the fear and uncertainty in her eyes.
Hell, how does she do this?
Her honesty just flips a switch in me, and I’m wrestling with feelings I didn’t even want to admit I had.
There’s a smudge of chocolate at the corner of her mouth, and I have to resist the urge to lean in and lick it away.
Taking a deep breath, I run a hand over my jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble against my palm. I’ve been thinking about this moment for hours, trying to find the right words to express the mess of emotions I’m feeling.
“Kiska…” I begin, my voice low and serious. I see her holding her breath, her body tensing like she’s bracing for a blow.
“I won’t get rid of our baby, Victor. It’s my baby.”
Her words hit me hard. I suck in a deep breath and hear myself thinking: It’s our baby.
“What I do… it’s dangerous. The life I lead, the enemies I’ve made… it’s not something I ever wanted to bring a child into.”
She nods, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I know,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I know, Victor. But this baby… it’s a part of us, fucked up as it may be.”
I hesitate before reaching out, taking her hand in mine. “I’m not asking you to get rid of it,” I say firmly, my thumb stroking over her knuckles. “I would never ask that of you, kiska.”
I grit my teeth and tighten my grip on her hand. “But I need you to understand the risks, the danger that comes with being a part of my world.”
She meets my gaze, her eyes fierce and determined. “I understand,” she says, her voice growing stronger. “And I’m not running away, Victor. Not from you, not from our baby, not from any of it.”
There’s a rush of pride and confusion and fear, all tangled up together in my chest.
These emotions are foreign to me, a man trained to show no weakness, no vulnerability. Fear, sadness, love—
Love?
