Page 28 of Outlaw
Sabrina
“Whatever happens, you’re staying here. Under my roof.”
Sure, under the roof that’s charred in one corner, in a soot-covered clubhouse that’s in shambles due to a bombing by God knows who.
I look over at Silas with disbelief as he moves off the bed and finds his jeans. “Why?”
“Until we figure out who’s after you and why you’re on their agenda, you’re not safe. I can keep an eye on you here.”
An eye.
And his hands.
And his tongue.
And that thick, pleasure-creating mass between his legs.
I shake my head. It’s no safer here than anywhere else in the world. Especially with who’s hunting me.
He’ll never stop.
Silas is still talking, but I tune him out, ignoring that somewhere in his rant, he’s probably being ridiculously sweet. None of it matters if he thinks he’s still making decisions for me. Those choices are mine for a reason, and by not listening, he’s making things worse for himself.
“Silas, you can’t keep me around indefinitely.” I breathe out a sigh and roll onto my side. “I’m not your pet.”
That sweet sex session has done nothing to soften his stance. “You’re staying here. End of story.”
I’m about to say something when he completely ruins my buzz by walking out shirtless and pulling the door shut. I’m barely breathing as I bolt up in bed, snatching the sheet to my chest.
He’s gone.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan, running a hand through my messed up hair.
It’s not that I was expecting him to take me into his arms and hold me all night, but to leave the room right after telling me I had to stay? It’s damn unnerving. The sexy possessive alpha was just all about his control and my pleasure. He’s probably satisfying some weird guilt complex where my safety is concerned.
Or his own.
With a long, frustrated exhale, I flop back on his bed and stare at the ceiling. Is it safe to live in a place that was bombed less than three hours ago? Aren’t there fire codes and hazards or something? Anything so I can find a way out.
It’s time to get up, have a shower, and start working on options B, C and D.
Maybe an E if I have to.
Whatever it takes.
I’m retying the drawstrings of my borrowed sweatpants when Silas opens the door again.
I give him an annoyed sideways glance. “I need a shirt. You ripped this one.”
“Check the top drawer.”
“Thanks.” I turn to look him straight in the eye. “Silas, if you want to have a discussion about letting me go instead of telling me what to do again, I’m very much open to suggestions.”
“Okay. If there’s anything else you want to tell me before I find it out on my own, now’s the time to do it.”
I have no verbal response, and turn to find the t-shirt so he doesn’t have a chance to read my eyes for a reaction.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he adds, then he turns and steps out of the room, leaving the door ajar.
