Page 21 of A Taste like Sin

continues its original path. I have no trouble naming the culprit: his hand. The individual shape of

every finger sends my senses spiraling. My spine stiffens, aching to arch—into him? Away from him?

The thinnest shred of pride keeps me still, a slave to his touch. One by one, he spreads his fingers

over my hip. Slowly…so damn slowly, they dance across my pelvis, stopping just short of the thatch

of curls at the base of my abdomen.

And another pearl settles, jarring my dazed thoughts.

“Last one.” Alarm sets in as his finger caresses a path up my throat and finds my lips. “Open,” he

commands again.

This time, I definitely taste salt as his finger glides across my tongue. “Close.”

Once my lips meet, a gentle pressure seals them shut—the final pearl.

“There.” He turns back to his canvas and the stool creaks beneath his weight. “Now we can begin. I

hope you are comfortable, Juliana?”

He chuckles in that slow, callous way when I don’t answer.

“Good. Now that I have your full attention, we can discuss in detail what I plan to do to you. When I

finally decide to take what I am owed.”

My lips twitch and the pearl slips—thank God it doesn’t fall. It’s certain now; the man is evil. Pure,

unadulterated evil.

“I’m sure you’ve wondered about it,” he taunts. “Obsessed over every little detail—you may let your

gilded world control every aspect of your life, but you still can’t stand it. And yet you haven’t asked

me.”

So he has noticed my silence on that topic. Has he been waiting for me to broach it first?

The pearl feels like a lead weight, keeping me silent. And like a true torturer, he knows exactly how

to twist the knife.

“Shall I tell you?” That dangerous chuckle rumbles from him again. “Though I’m tempted to let you

stew on it. There are so many ways to rob you of that one shred of innocence you cling to—because

youhaveclung to it. I know you’ve dated before.” He throws it off like a casual observation, but it

conveys so much more. Like the fact that he’s delved into more than just my past. Perhaps he’s spied

on more than my intimate moments as well. “All powerful, pretty men, none of whom last the month

with you. And not becausetheyleaveyou,” he adds, proving my suspicions correct. “You never let

them in. Not to your apartment. Not even the damn building. You’ve built a wall between the world