I’m not wearing panties. I haven't been allowed to wear them since he took them off me in the dining room. I am bare to hisgaze, spread open by the position of my legs and the constraint of the handcuff.
He looks.
He doesn't just glance. He stares. His eyes trace the curve of my thighs, the dark curls at my apex, the wetness that I can't hide.
"God," he groans, a sound of pure, tortured worship. "Look at you."
He reaches between my legs.
I flinch, expecting pain. Expecting roughness.
But his touch is feather-light. He traces the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, circling closer and closer to my center, but never quite touching. It’s maddening.
"You’re trembling," he observes.
"I’m cold," I lie.
"You’re burning up."
He leans forward, planting his hands on either side of my head. He lowers his face until his nose brushes against mine.
"Tell me to stop," he whispers. "Tell me to get off you, unlocking you, and sleep on the couch. Say it, Ivy. Say 'Silas, I don't want you.'"
I open my mouth to say the words. My brain screams them.Stop. Get off. Leave me alone.
But my body betrays me. My hips buck slightly, seeking his touch. My breath hitches in a pathetic, needy sound.
"I..."
I can't say it.
Because if he leaves... I will be alone in the dark again. If he leaves, the cold returns.
"You can't," he concludes, a dark triumph in his eyes. "Because you know. You know I killed for you today. You know I walked into hell and came back for you. And that turns you on, doesn't it?"
"It’s sick," I sob, tears leaking from my eyes. "It’s twisted."
"It’s us."
He kisses me.
It’s not a soft kiss. It’s a collision. He crushes his mouth to mine, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting me, claiming me. He tastes of mint and ownership. I kiss him back, desperate and angry, my free hand tangling in his wet hair, pulling him closer.
He breaks the kiss and trails his mouth down my jaw, down my throat. He bites the tender skin where my pulse jumps, marking me.
"Mine," he growls against my skin. "My wife. My prisoner. My life."
He moves lower. He kisses the swell of my breast through the silk. Then he moves lower still.
He pushes my legs further apart.
"Silas," I gasp, realizing what he’s doing. "Wait—"
He doesn't wait.
He buries his face between my legs.
I scream. It’s a sharp, shocked sound that echoes off the high ceiling.
