Page 86 of Velvet Chains
Na khui! What the hell is wrong with me?
I’ve never been this reactive to a woman before. It’s like she’s gotten under my skin, and I can’t shake her loose.
And now, with this shit with Dimitry and Vasiliev, she’s smack in the middle of a situation that has nothing to do with her.
Pizdets.
I debate whether I should tell her about us having Dave in custody. Maybe it’s better not to. It would only kill her mood today, and after everything she’s been through, she deserves a break.
With a sigh, I pull the key from the ignition and step out of the car. The cool air feels good against my overheated skin as I make my way to the bookstore entrance.
I unlock the door with my own key and step inside, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully. Laura looks up, her eyes widening when she sees me.
“Victor? What are you doing here?”
I shrug, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “Just making sure you didn’t mess up the alphabetical order.”
She raises an eyebrow, a small smile quirking her lips up at the corners. “Right. Because you’re just that thoughtful.”
I scowl at her, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Watch it, kiska. I can always take that key back.”
She rolls her eyes, turning back to the stack of books she was organizing. “Please. You wouldn’t dare.”
I watch her for a moment, admiring the way her hands move over the spines of the books, the way her brow furrows in concentration. She’s in her element here, surrounded by the things she loves. It’s a side of her I haven’t really seen before.
I step closer to her, watching as she ticks off items on a list, a pen clutched in her hand. She’s so focused, so in her element, that she doesn’t even notice me approaching.
“What’s that?” I ask, peering over her shoulder.
She jumps a little, startled by my proximity. “Oh, it’s just a list of books that have arrived. I’m checking them off as I shelve them.”
I nod, my eyes drifting over the titles. Most of them are children’s books, bright and colorful. “You really love this stuff, don’t you?”
She glances up at me, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “I do. I’ve always wanted to write my own children’s books, you know? The kind that inspire and empower kids.”
I think back to what Serena told me the other day, about Laura’s writing. How her asshole of a father never supported her, never believed in her dreams.
Anger flares in my gut, but I push it down. Now’s not the time.
I watch her for a moment, my eyes tracing the curve of her neck, the way her hair falls over her shoulders. She smells so good, like lavender and something intrinsically her.
“Why don’t you start writing them?” I demand, my voice low and commanding as I close the space between us. My shadow falls over Laura, who looks up at me with panic in her eyes. Her body trembles under my intense gaze.
“I-I can’t,” she stammers, “No one will read it…”
“I will,” I interrupt, surprised by how sincere my desire is to read her childish story. “Eli will, too.” With a predatory glint in my eyes, I slowly trace my fingers along her trembling lips before grabbing her body and pulling it toward mine.
“Victor, what are you doing?” she whispers frantically, but her breath hitches, and her pupils dilate with desire. My hold on her tightens as an instinctual urge takes over me.
“I am claiming what is mine,” I declare possessively. I reach out, my hand settling on her hip.
She stills, her breath catching. “Victor… I’m worki—”
I don’t let her finish, pressing her back against the shelves. Books topple to the floor, but I don’t care.
All I care about is her. The way she feels against me, the way her eyes darken with desire.
“I want you,” I growl, my hands bunching in her skirt. “Right here, right now.”
