Page 121 of Goldsin

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

AURELIA

The material of the makeshift rope feels coarse against my skin.

I pull and twist my weight, struggling to untie my wrists above my head to no avail. The more I move, the more the material seems to tighten, obstructing the blood flow to my hands. Frustration rises within me, mingling with the bitter taste of desire. Somehow, having control taken away from me makes me desperate for the wrong reason.

Julian flicks the silver lighter he’s holding close, and the dancing flame disappears with a satisfying click that echoes around us. He pockets it, and I press my lips together, calculating what his next move will be and what I can do to get him to free me.

Does he smell my fear—or lack of it?

The comb, a gift Adrian bought me when he saw me looking at it during our walk through the Ballard Avenue Historic District, is now a bronze color as it cools down slightly. He swings it in frontof my eyes, making sure I catch his every movement, taunting me into wasting my time studying him, because he knows I won’t find a way out of this.

He can read me like the pages of a diary.I hate him for that.

A wicked smirk plays on his lips the moment he sees I understand the game he’s playing. A shiver covers my whole body. I know what that look means: it’s the same look he gets before stepping into the ring. Only, this time, the dim light playing in his eyes doesn’t show someone keen to finish, but someone who can’t wait to savor every second.

“Don’t even think about it.” I narrow my eyes, glancing from the comb to him.

I know he wouldn’t hurt me. Never physically at least. But the sight of that scalding comb so close to my face, my skin, makes me shudder.

“Don’t what, golden one?” he muses, taking a step forward. “Don’tstop? Don’tgive me pleasure... Don’tkeep me tied up all night?”

I instinctively step back, putting as much distance between us as I possibly can with my hands locked in place. But there’s nowhere I can go. The rope yanks me back, and my bare ass bumps against the cold window behind me, making me gasp. Reminding me whose mercy I’m under and how there’s no escaping it.

Eyes that look like a night sky gleam with mischief. “Enjoying yourself already?” he asks in a light, teasing tone, in contrast to the way his arm muscles bounce with the firm, unyielding grip he holds on thecomb.

“Go to hell,” I hiss, glaring at him for how much I detest his enjoyment in all this.

“I already am.” He smirks. “Or I wouldn’t be able to sin against your body.”

For a moment I’m frozen, caught off-guard by the rawness in his words. I feel the heaviness of his revelation sliding down my spine. It’s like he just peeled back a layer of himself and showed me how deeply he really feels for me.

Then why did you push me away? Why did you hurt me when we feel the same way?

Anger seeps into me, stirring all the conflicting emotions tugging at my insides. He’s a hypocrite, or simply a sadist, because I can’t find any better reason for the way he’s treating me.

He grabs the body oil once more, dipping the still scorching comb into it. Then he stirs the liquid for a few seconds until the oil heats up and he can pour it onto my skin, tearing out another gasp from me.

A soft burning sensation spreads over my body as the searing droplets fall down my curves. And when the skin becomes too sensitive, his strong hands come down next, massaging the oil into my skin.

Sending shivers down my body.

Making me bite down on my tongue so I won’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me.

“See how your body reacts to pain, golden one?” he whispers, hand brushing over my breast, covering it all before feeling its fullness. “To my touch?” He leans in close to my ear. “Itachesfor it.”

“Y-you’re wrong.” I try to suppress the need fromrevealing itself. “My body doesn’t ... it doesn’t like what you’re doing.”Am I trying to convince him or myself?“You’re delusional. It’s shuddering away from ... from your touch, not toward it.”

Lies. Lies. Lies.

“Is it?” He moves his fingers lower, carrying on with their torturous dance across my oiled skin. “Your body can’t lie, golden one. It’s craving my touch.”

My façade of defiance cracks and my body betrays me, yearning to get closer—for him to touch me everywhere. A spark ignites between my legs, and I sway forward involuntarily.

“Shut up,” I say through clenched teeth.

He’s right. I can’t ignore the way his touch ignites every single cell in my body. Like a magnet, wherever he touches comes to life, luring him to never leave.

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