Page 77 of Torn By Fate

How could he so easily offer sex in the middle of what would have been a normal conversation until now…

Well, nothing was normal about Adrian.

About our circumstances.

But now that he offered, my mind started to dwell on the idea.

And it happened to… like it very much.

No.

I couldn’t…

We could not.

“I don’t want that,” I said, but the words came out breathless and unconvincing even to my own ears.

“Liar.”

I hissed in response. “Stop calling me a liar.”

“Your pupils are dilated. Your breathing changed thirty seconds ago. And you’ve been staring at my mouth for the last ten seconds.” That infuriating half-smile again. “You want it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Even if I did…” I said carefully, eyes roving over his body, lingering on his wide chest for a little too long. “It wouldn’t change anything between us.”

“I don’t expect it to.” His wrists shifted against the leather. “I’ll remain bound. You have all the control. Everything happens at your pace, on your terms.”

Control.

It was the one thing I had been denied, the one thing I had fought for and lost and clawed back in fragments.

Adrian was offering it to me freely, wrapped in leather and the weight of his own restraint, at the cost of his control.

My body made the decision before my mind could intervene.

I sat up.

The comforter pooled around my waist, the nightgown slipping off one shoulder, and I didn’t bother adjusting it.

Adrian watched me move closer to his side as I closed the distance between us.

His eyes darkened, the dark blue going nearly black in the dim light, and I watched his throat work as he swallowed.

Even bound, even deliberately vulnerable, he radiated with a contained energy that made the air between us crackle with his authority.

I slowly climbed onto him. He tensed as I straddled his waist, my knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips.

My spine tingled when I felt the hard line of him through the thin fabric of his sweatpants, the evidence of his need pressed against me.

The timid desire low in my belly tightened in response.

I brought my hand between us, and I wrapped my fingers around the length of him through the cotton. Adrian’s entire body went rigid beneath me. A sound escaped him, low, guttural, tearing from deep inside his chest. His head dropped back against the pillow, the tendons in his neck standing in sharp relief or pain, I wasn't sure.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Fuck indeed.

The power of it—the raw, unmistakable effect I had on him—sent a surge of something primal through my veins.