Page 50 of Atone

But he doesn’t make a move as he stares into my eyes, frozen. He’s still just long enough to draw out a hint of my insecurity.

“What’s wrong? Do you not like what you see?” I hate how vulnerable that question makes me.

That I even felt the need to ask.

Alex huffs. “You know I do.”

I don’t know that, but his eyes show no hint that he’s lying.

He releases my jaw, dropping his hands to my hips and backing me farther onto the desk. His hard length presses against my core, and I’m thrumming for him. Melting at his touch. Liquid heat courses through me, and I need to hold on before I spin into space.

Only, when I reach for Alex again, he stops me, grabbing my wrists and tugging them behind my back.

“You can’t.” He drops his chin and shakes his head.

I can’t what?

Touch him?

Tempt him?

The questions are on the tip of my tongue, but this all feels too fragile. Like anything could shatter this moment, and I’ll end up facing a closed door if I’m not careful.

“You can’t,” he repeats, stripping his belt from the loops.

He pulls it behind me, wrapping it around my wrists and securing them tightly.

“What are you doing?” I try to tug free, but it only traps me more.

Alex doesn’t answer as he grabs the knife off the desk and spears it through the belt buckle, pinning my bound hands behind my back and to the desk.

“You could have just asked me not to touch you again.” I glare at him. “Isn’t this a little extreme?”

“Maybe.” His eyes take an appreciative sweep down my body, pausing at my spread legs. “But I think I prefer it this way.”

“You’re twisted.” I pull on the belt, but it barely moves. “Absolutely sick.”

He hums, amusement ghosting his expression as he grips my chin and forces me to face him. His other hand traces circles on my knee before slowly skating up my leg and dipping inward.

The slow, torturous path up my inner thigh has me on fire. But he pauses right before he reaches where I need him. Teasing me with slow circles on my sensitive skin.

Just when I think I’ll have to beg him, he puts me out of my misery, landing between my legs and pressing the wet lace covering my pussy.

The groan that rumbles in his chest is primal. His grip on my chin is borderline painful. But when he slips his thumb past the lace and slicks it over my core, I lose track of all feeling besides that movement.

“Alex.” My eyes flutter, and there’s no more pain.

No more bindings.

Just Alex touching me in a way that is as possessive as it is curious. Like I’m the only thing in the entire world that matters to him. Like I’m the first person he’s explored.

“Yes, Mila?” He watches every reaction as he slowly plays with my clit. Building me up and then letting me down. Over and over.

I lose the question I was asking. My words.

My thoughts.

There’s only Alex’s eyes, refusing to break their stare on mine while he learns my body. It’s terrifying how well he sees me. How one touch erases the past few weeks like they didn’t exist.