I barely had time to grasp the emptiness before a shirtless Vincent shoved me against the neighboring wall. My eyes raked over him even as he held the cold blade of a knife pressed against my throat. Oh. Not a shirtless Vincent, but a very naked, very well-endowed Vincent. “You’re naked,” I whispered, shutting my eyes tightly. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry.” “It’s my room. I can be,” he snapped back, clearly agitated. Half of his body was pressed against me, and I didn’t dare risk a look down to see what else was touching me. Stop thinking about naked Vincent, you sex-starved psycho!
