Page 55 of Selling Innocence

“You’re contrary enough to do just that,” I admitted before unzipping his pants, then grasping the waist of his pants. I pulled them down, getting them off only because Vance cooperated by lifting his hips slightly.

He wore a pair of black boxer briefs, and, even without touching, I was sure they were incredibly soft.

He also filled them out very well. The fabric was snug against his thighs, showing the muscle he’d cultivated there. A white elastic band ran low on his waist, the V of his abs disappearing beneath the edge.

I’d never found men in underwear all that appealing, but I suddenly understood the attraction. He was flawless, and if he wasn’t drunk—and an asshole—I might have made a move.

“Don’t stare so much.”

I jerked my gaze up to his at the tone he used, one unlike his previous. It was full of lust, deep and coaxing. A similar heat rested in his blue eyes, as if alcohol be damned, he’d have me either way.

And seeing him undone like this did it for me. He still had his shirt and gloves on, though the shirt was open to show off his body. His skin was unbelievably pale, his nipples pink and flat and so tempting I nearly reached out to stroke one.

What the hell are you thinking? I sucked in a breath to try to calm myself. I wasn’t some animal who couldn’t control myself or my wants. I was not going to molest a drunken man just because he looked good.

“If you look at me like that,” Vance whispered, “I’m going to get the wrong idea. I already took your first kiss—keep looking at me like that and I’ll take a lot more.”

That woke me up.

The fantasy of sleeping with Vance was a far cry from the reality. He’d proven willing to do anything it took to get what he wanted. He’d proven he wasn’t really interested in me, that he was just playing. I couldn’t lose myself to desire, because I’d only end up hurt later.

So instead, I tried to keep my voice steady, to not let him know how much he affected me. “Take the shirt off, then get under the blankets.”

He pulled in a deep breath, the action making his chest rise, reminding me of how good he looked, then shrugged out of the shirt. It wasn’t easy, but he managed it.

Never thought a man in underwear and gloves would look this…erotic.

Maybe it was just Vance—he could make a rainbow clown wig and red nose sexy.

I gathered the discarded items and tossed them into the laundry hamper in the closet. Lastly, I grabbed the water bottle from the floor, the one I’d brought, and the food. I set both on the nightstand beside him, then helped cover him with the blanket when it seemed he couldn’t manage it on his own. “Drink water. Dehydration will make you feel so much worse tomorrow if you don’t. I’ll leave the food, too, in case you wake up and want to eat something.”

I peered around the room, seeing his phone on the ground. When I picked it up, I had a moment of hesitation.

Vance was in no position to notice, was he? I could call Nem from this…

The phone they’d given me could contact no one but them. With this, though, I could reach out. One call and it would be over.

Nem would come with the Quad, with Jarrod. They’d slaughter these four men who had dared to trap me, would take me back to my real home. If Lorien wanted me, if he was stupid enough to come after me, they’d deal with him, too.

Just one call and I’d be safe.

Except, when I looked at Vance, his eyes closed, his position so vulnerable, I couldn’t.

These men had bought me from an auction, had imprisoned me, had endangered me, planned to continue doing that, yet I was worried about them?

I really was an idiot.

I set the phone on the bed beside him. “If you need anything, call me. For now? Just sleep it off.”

He didn’t move, his face relaxed and vulnerable there right. It drew me in, and before I could think twice, I leaned in toward him. My brain returned to me a split second before I touched my lips to his, before I made that mistake, and I aborted.

Instead, I kissed his forehead.

When I went to pull away, something wrapped around my wrist. I looked down to find his hand clinging to me. “Stay,” he asked, his voice small.

I couldn’t help it—I couldn’t walk out, not when he spoke to me like that. “Okay, for a little while.” I sat on the side of the bed, then brushed my hand over his head, running my fingers through the curly strands of his hair.

His breathing evened out as he fell back asleep, as if just my presence relaxed and soothed him.

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