Page 91 of Bound By Her

His glare cutting across the space.

Bryson, unfazed, stared right back. But after a slow moment of resistance, he adjusted his posture.

“Spread your legs apart.”

He did.

“Wider.”

She grabbed supplies from the kitchen, moving with practiced efficiency.

Stepping closer, she secured his right wrist to the back of the chair with asharpzip.

Then the left, slightly higher than the right.

The forced angle made his back arch, his body drawn tight.

She worked fast, fastening his ankles to the chair. Fixing him in the uncomfortable posture.

Then she stood back and watched. For once, he wasn’t looking at her. She reached out, tilting his chin up.

He looked away. She moved his face back.

Again.

And again.

Until he held the position she had created for him.

His chest rose and fell, but his breathing slowed. Settling.

She leaned in. Closer.Their faces mere inches apart.And in a voice only he could hear, she whispered, “You are not in charge.”

He twitched, looking away.

She guided his face back, holding him there until his breath steadied once more.

“Accept it,” she murmured, “and things will get easier.”

The mask slipped, pliable Bryson vanishing. Replaced by the real one.

Angry Bryson.

Defiant Bryson.

The one who barely held it together under the best of circumstances. The only version of him that was real.

His lips curled into a sneer.

“I don’t do easy,” he said, voice laced with contempt. “Wouldn’t expect you to understand,princess.”

That nickname.

Again.

Something inside Adria snapped.

Her hand moved on its own. Fingers wrapping tightly around his throat. The speed of it startled even her.

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