Page 7 of In the Light of Sin

He grew tired of my refutes. “Take it off, or I’ll rip it off.”

My face flushed. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath my shirt. My breasts weren’t big enough to wear a bra for most occasions, not to mention how uncomfortable they were.

I knew he wasn’t joking about ripping my shirt off of me, and that thought made my skin crawl. My eyes glazed over, unwanted images starting to invade—

I shook my head. I wanted to be in control, and if I had to make a choice, I’d be the only one undressing myself.

No one was allowed to undress me ever again. I’d rather die.

I tried to ignore Sarge’s face locked on the way my hands gripped the hem of my shirt. I dragged the wrinkled material up my body and over my head, trying to ignore the burning I felt in every nerve. As soon as my shirt was over my head, I heard a sharp inhale of breath as the chilly air hardened my nipples, and I rushed to cover myself from his gaze.

“Fuck.” His grunt spread more fire to my face. I shifted the corner of my eyes towards him, noticing his head was directed pointedly at my chest.

My chin dipped as I looked at the ground, embarrassed by being this exposed to him.

No one has seen me exposed since I’d gotten sober four years ago.

His hand reached up, fingertips barely a whisper above where the man gripped my shirt. I couldn’t feel anything other than my heart that was threatening to beat out of my chest. I’m sure he could see it thumping against the skin if he didn’t feel the stuttering beneath his fingers. I knew his eyes weren’t on my chest as he said, “Nothing there.”

I knew there wouldn’t be. The man’s hands only gripped the neckline of my shirt, but he was the least of my worries. Not when I felt Sarge’s intensity manifesting throughout me. I began to squirm, still unable to look at him, so I didn’t notice how his knuckles made their way up my body and barely tapped my chin to draw my attention to him.

My heart thumped in my useless ears as I craned my neck to look at him. His head was tilted down in my direction. My proximity to the lighting was so bright that I swore I could almost see into the darkness of his hood.

A side of Sarge no one has ever seen besides Darrell.

Both of his palms rested on the counter at my sides, trapping me as I turned my head away from his, my attention landing on the blinding wall to my left. In the months Sarge and I had known each other, there hasn’t been any familiarity. It was just him blending in with the darkness of the night, watching me through my bedroom window.

Now, there was no pane of glass between us. No panicking over who was out there watching me. I knew neither of us knew what to do with this overwhelming tension between us was or was becoming. The light around Sarge was getting brighter. Seeing his home, the way he lived…

I was seeing a side to Sarge no one else dared to discover. He wasn’t the man who flinched at the sight of someone being killed and wasn’t afraid to do the killing, as he showed tonight. No. He was the man who assigned himself as my personal protector without hesitation from my enemies and the clubs.

A task no one asked him to do, but he decided to anyway. I don’t know why he felt the need to watch over me. Part of me yearned for answers. The other part was just thankful I was sober enough to recognize someone was trying to help me.

My eyes burned thinking about Jordyn and how I ruined her life because she was trying to help me, and I was too drunk to see it.

If Sarge ever knew the details of the drunken blur that was five years of my life, he’d never see me the same.

I didn’t want him to view me as my past mistakes or my… disability.

“Hey.”

I wanted him to see me as Joslyn Monroe.

“Joslyn, look at me.”

The girl who’s trying to pick up the pieces of a past that can never be mended.

“Joslyn!”

I jumped slightly at the force of his voice, looking at him from the corner of my eye. I couldn’t see his expression, but his stance dared me to look away from him.

“I would hurt anyone else. But never you.”

My breath hitched as my circling thoughts came to a halt. Sarge was a man of few words, but hearing that come from him was something I was never expecting. He was a complex man, and in the handful of times we were together, he’d been mostly gentle with me, but he’d also kept me at arm’s length.

What an enigma this man was. And they said women were unpredictable.

Despite the surprise of his words, I couldn’t help but smile. “I know.”

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