Page 107 of Velvet Chains
The word echoes in my mind, and I feel a sudden, sharp pang.
Is that what this is?
This fierce, protective urge to shield Laura and our unborn child from harm, to hold them close and never let go?
“Victor,” Laura says softly, breaking me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, kiska?” I reply, my voice rougher than I planned.
She smiles, her eyes shining with a strange, knowing light. “I think you’re going to be a great papa.”
Something inside me snaps, like a rubber band stretched too far. I feel a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion, so intense it nearly takes my breath away.
I lean in, pressing a fierce, desperate kiss to her lips. She tastes like chocolate and hope and everything I never knew I wanted, and I feel a surge of determination wash over me.
I don’t deserve this.
But even as the thought hits me, I know she’s different. This thing between us, it’s not just about getting my dick wet. Somewhere along the line, she’s gotten under my skin, past all the walls I’ve built up over the years.
I fucking want this.
And that scares the shit out of me… more than staring down the barrel of a gun ever has. Because for the first time in my goddamn life, I’ve got something to lose.
Something I’m starting to realize I’d burn the whole fucking world to ash to keep safe.
Chapter 43
Laura
HE DIDN’T ask me to get rid of the baby.
But does he want to be part of the baby’s life?
Counting down from ten, I take a deep breath.
That’s a good start. At least his reaction wasn’t a flat-out “hell no.”
I watch Victor slap some cash on the counter and walk toward me, his stride confident and purposeful. He stretches out a hand, and I take it, allowing him to help me up from my seat. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s handling something precious and fragile.
It makes me feel good.
We walk out of the ice cream store, and a man brushes past me, his shoulder bumping roughly against mine. Victor’s reaction is immediate and intense. He pulls me close to his warm, hard body, his arm wrapping protectively around my waist.
“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he snarls at the man, his voice low and menacing.
The man mumbles an apology and scurries away, clearly intimidated by Victor’s fierce demeanor. I should probably be annoyed by his overreaction, but instead, I find myself fighting back a smile.
My badass husband, always ready to defend my honor.
Victor opens the car door for me, his hand at the small of my back as I slide into the passenger seat. As he walks around to the driver’s side and slides in, his scent—a mix of mint and leather—fills the space, unmistakably manly. Our hands meet on the center console, fingers intertwining.
“I’m not broken,” I say suddenly as he settles behind the wheel.
“What?” He glances over at me, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“I said, I’m not broken. Just because I’m pregnant.” I smile softly. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”
His expression clears, and he brings my hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across my knuckles. “I know you’re not broken, kiska, but you are my woman. And it’s my job to take care of you and what’s ours. No one gets to push you around while I’m here.”
