“Get off the stool, Laurel.”
“This isn’t funny,” I tell him, forcing a nervous laugh. “This isn’t funny. Please put the gun away. I don’t know what this is, but I don’t… I don’t get the joke.”
His voice is low in my ear as he drags the barrel of his gun down the side of my face. I shudder at the cool feel of the metal, such a contrast to his heat at my back. “Does it feel like I’m joking, Laurel?”
It doesn’t, but he has to be. Maybe it’s foolish to trust this man who burned me once before, but I trust him enough to know he wouldn’t do something like this. This has to be some kind of game I just don’t understand.
Whether it is or not, his fingers dig into my arm as he drags me off the stool, keeping the gun trained on me. I don’t want to fall, so I force my shaky legs to work and I let him escort me out of the kitchen.
“Can we please talk about this?” I ask as we walk. Swallowing again, I try to look back at him. “Why are you… why are you doing this?”
“You wanna know why, Laurel? I’ll tell you why.” He abruptly stops walking and yanks me back against his hard body. My stupid body melts against him like it can’t decide if this is more scary or hot. The only hand that’s not keeping me captive is the one with the gun, so he uses that instead of his finger to fondle me. The way he drags the barrel over my breasts is already borderline erotic, then he uses it to nudge open my robe and a tickle of lust hits me. It only ratchets up at the gruff impatience in his voice as he tells me, “First, take off this flimsy fucking thing.”
God, I love his voice. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know Sin wouldn’t hurt me. If I’m wrong, then I’ll die believing that until the very last moment.
We’re in the family room at the back of the house—the one we never use. There are elegant, untouched furnishings—a black couch with silver pillows that are only touched when Juanita periodically fluffs them. A big, soft-looking rug in front of it.
I want to ask a million questions, but I’m afraid to. My back is still to him so I can’t see his face—does it look the way it did the night I knelt for him? I didn’t know what to think that night, either, but this time there’s a gun. That sort of intensifies things.
“Now,” he says.
My mind races as I reach for the belt of my robe to untie it.
“Slowly,” he snaps.
I gasp at the sharpness of his command and take a deep breath, nodding my head. My nerves are shot, but I work the soft, knotted belt loose and slowly let each end drop in front of me.
Keeping my tone low and as even as possible, so as not to startle the man with the gun, I ask, “Why are you doing this? Is this some kind of test? Or game? Are we roleplaying?”
“Don’t ask again,” he says, simply. “Turn around and look at me while you take the robe off.”
He lets me step away from him slowly. I turn just as slowly, no sudden movements, and meet his dark gaze. My heart gives for a split second, forgetting the weapon and the circumstances, seeing only the eyes of the man I’m meant to kneel for. My heart squeezes and my gaze drops to the gun. He still has it trained on me, and I still don’t understand why.
He told me to take the robe off, so I push the robe over my shoulders and let it slide off my body. The room is so quiet, I can hear the soft material hit the floor. Hear the roar of blood raging through my veins, the pounding of my heart.
Using the gun to gesture to the couch, Sin says, “Grab that pillow.”
My gaze darts to the couch and I see the silver pillow. I step sideways and grab it, then look to Sin for direction.
“Put it on the ground.”
“Where?”
“Just on the fucking ground.”
I don’t know what he wants, so I just drop it right there on the ground by the couch.
Now Sin steps closer. My skin burns as his gaze drops, raking across my uncovered breasts. I already took my bra off for the night, so the only thing that stops me from being completely naked is a pair of panties.
I feel completely naked as Sin moves closer, so close he towers over me. I feel small and fragile—he’s the one I’m supposed to turn to for protection, but right now he’s what I need protecting from. He stops in front of me, but he’s so close, I can feel his heat—this time on the front of my body.
“Now, listen to me very carefully, Laurel. You don’t want anyone to get hurt, right?”
I shake my head, unable to formulate words. There’s a lump in my throat, and I’m torn between fear and sadness. This can’t really be happening. Sin can’t be bad.
I mean, not worse than I already know he is.
His tone is briefly comforting as he says, “No. I don’t either. So it’s very important that you listen to what I’m about to say to you, and fucking remember it. Something is going to happen right now that you don’t want.” I stare at the ground, because I can’t look up at him. “You can fight me, but it won’t stop me. I can do whatever I want to you, and do you know why?”