Page 77 of Bonds of Pain
“Because I was asleep?”
“And begging for it.” He leans closer, a dark light in his eyes. “You’re in my bed, in a nest I made for you, and making these gorgeous little sighs and moans as you were grinding up against me. If you whisper my name in my sleep, then I’m going to respond in kind.”
I’m already shaking my head, refusing to believe it even as his words awaken a distant dream-like memory. “I didn’t do that.”
“You did.” He gestures to our position in the bed. A dent in the pillow is the only evidence that I’d started the night on the other side. “I woke up with you on top of me, with your thigh rubbing up and down on my dick like you were practically begging me to do something about it.”
“You’re lying.”
His jaw works, an expression that is equal parts amusement and exasperation. “Fine. I’ll prove it to you.”
Ares jumps out of bed with athletic grace. I immediately look away when I realize he’s completely naked, his muscular form on full display without a hint of modesty.
“What are you doing?” I clutch the sheet tighter around myself.
“Come on,” he says, gesturing toward the door as casually as if he were fully dressed. “I’ll show you.”
His complete lack of self-consciousness is almost as unsettling as his nudity. He stands there, perfectly at ease in his skin, waiting for me to follow.
“Put some clothes on first,” I hiss.
He shrugs. “Why? Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“Ares!”
“Fine, princess. Hold on.” He grabs a pair of sweatpants from a drawer and pulls them on, leaving his chest bare. “Better?”
Not really, but it’s an improvement. I wrap the sheet around myself like a makeshift dress before stumbling after him, my legs still unsteady from what just happened.
The apartment is quiet as we move through it. Early morning light filters through the windows, suggesting everyone else is still asleep. I’m grateful for that small mercy—I don’t need an audience for whatever this is.
Ares leads me to a room I haven’t seen before. It’s smaller than I expected, dominated by a large terminal with multiple screens arranged in a semicircle. The blue glow from the monitors casts eerie shadows across the walls.
“Sit,” he commands, pointing to the single chair in front of the terminal.
I hesitate, but curiosity wins out. As I settle into the chair, Ares looms behind me, reaching around to tap a passcode into the keypad. His bare chest presses against my back, radiating heat through the thin sheet. His scent—bourbon, chocolate, and something distinctly male—envelops me, making it hard to focus on anything else.
“Watch,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
The screens flicker to life, displaying various rooms of the apartment from different angles. I recognize Logan’s bedroom, the living area, the kitchen, and several hallways. My stomach drops as I realize what I’m seeing.
“You have cameras everywhere?” I ask, horrified and fascinated at once.
“Security system. Standard protocol. Only we have access to feeds from this apartment.” His fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up a specific feed. “There we go.”
The timestamp in the corner is from a few hours ago. The image shows Ares’s bedroom—the same nest of blankets I’d been sleeping in. I watch myself toss and turn before gradually shifting across the bed until I’m pressed against Ares’s sleeping form.
My cheeks burn as I see myself throw a leg over his, my body seeking his warmth even in sleep. Worse, I can see my hips making small, rhythmic movements against his thigh.
“See?” Ares’s voice is smug in my ear. “You came to me.”
I want to deny it, but the evidence is right there on the screen. My unconscious body betraying me in the most humiliating way possible.
“That doesn’t give you permission to—“ I start, but my voice falters as the on-screen version of me nuzzles closer to him.
“Listen,” he says, turning up the volume.
A soft moan comes through the speakers—my voice, unmistakably, followed by a whispered word that makes my blood burn.
