Vow to Protect

I nod without thinking. Because there’s really nothing to consider. I’ll do anything to keep Rose safe, even if it means sacrificing myself.

I meet his eyes and nod again. “I understand.”

He untangles his fingers gently and takes a large step away. I lean toward him, craving the touch he just revoked.

“If you understand...then strip. Take everything off and put it on the desk.”

7

Adrian

I don’t know if asking her to strip is a test for her or a test for myself. After only two minutes in this woman’s presence, I’m already butting up against the edge of my control. And that fucking dress should be outlawed. I want to pluck out every single man’s eyeballs who dared to look at her in it or dared to covet her because I watched many of the fight’s spectators note her passing.

If I can do this. If I can watch her remove every single scrap of clothing and not take her right here on the desk, then I know I can handle helping her.

My inability to maintain my control isn’t something I’m willing to consider yet.

Her hands shake as she lifts them to the thick straps that cut into her shoulders. I notice now that the dress is maybe one size too small for her. No wonder it looks so fucking indecent.

Then as if she forgot what she was doing, she drags her hands over to the curve of her waist. I spot the zipper under her arm and wait for her to ask for my help. Again.

When people ask me for things, it usually pisses me off because I don’t work for anyone but myself. But it’s not the same with those big eyes staring at me so innocent and full of hope. It also happens that I’ve been dreaming about ripping Sal’s dick off since I met him. Killing him will be no hardship for me.

“Val,” I whisper. “If you don’t ask for what you need, you’ll never get it.”

Her eyes flash to mine, locking deep, shooting straight to my cock. I swallow and step into her, taking the top of her zipper between my fingers. “Do you want me to help you?”

She nods once, her fingers shaking as they brush my knuckles to pull away.

I carefully slide the zipper down, ensuring I don’t catch it on her skin or any underwear. Underwear she doesn’t seem to be wearing. A ridiculous concept since I’m sure by looking at her this woman has never even had an orgasm in her life. Sweet innocence rolls off her in waves. I almost feel like an asshole for wanting to turn her over the desk right now just to show her what she’s been missing. Almost.

When I’ve finished lowering the zipper, I drop my hands. Any closer and I won’t be able to keep from touching her. Pushing her further than she can handle right now.

“I don’t have all night, sweetie. If you’re serious about this, a little nudity isn’t a high price to pay. Especially for what you’re asking.”

She doesn’t meet my eyes this time as she speaks. “It’s not about being naked. I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’ve taken my clothes off. Maybe you’ll...”

“Rape you?” I supply.

I tuck my hands into the curls at the nape of her neck. “Sweetie, you’re already wet for me. I don’t need to rape you to have you. But if it makes you feel better, all I’m going to do is look at you. For now.”

“Just look?” she whispers, finally bringing a tear-filled gaze to mine.

I release my hold on her. “Look and maybe touch. Nowhere you’d find objectionable. I promise you.”

She stutters out a breath and then quickly jerks the straps of her dress down, down, down to peel off her hips. The tight material has cut into her skin in places, leaving red lines on her creamy pink skin. Her motions are jerky, almost angry, and I smile as she finishes throwing her clothing and shoes on the table.

“Earrings too?” she asked.

I shake my head. “You can leave those. It’s fine. But let’s be reasonable here. Fold your clothing up and put it on the table like a civilized person.”

Her hands shake again, but she does as directed, and my smile grows. Until I finally get a good look at her.

More than just the faint red lines of her dress mar her. Bruises, both old and new, dot her body from her ankle to her neck. I can see the edges under whatever makeup she’s applied to cover them.

Rage fires through me, and I must step away and take a moment so I don’t walk out of this room, go to her house, and shoot every motherfucker in sight.

What’s worse is I hate the fucking way she tucks her delicate chin almost all the way into her chest. As if trying to protect her face without actually making the moves to do it. She can sense my anger but doesn’t realize it’s not directed toward her.