I struggled harder, my whole body thrashing against him, muffled curses spilling from behind the tape in ragged, furious bursts.
Another low chuckle vibrated through his chest. The sound curled down my spine, making my stomach clench with dread.
"You've been a very bad girl, mon Eloise," he drawled, his deep voice rolling over me like a caress I wanted to tear away. "And I only want to show you what happens to bad girls."
Sweat prickled along my hairline, trailing in cold rivulets down my back. My heartbeat thundered against my ribs so violently it almost hurt.
Panic wrapped around my lungs like a fist. My vision blurred as my muscles trembled from the strain of fighting him, but I kept pulling at the ropes, kept twisting, even when the fibres dug in deeper.
I didn't stop.
I couldn't stop. I shouldn't.
Because the truth was sinking in, icy and undeniable—I had no idea how the hell I was going to get away.
A tear slid down my temple, hot and shameful. More followed.
His words from before whispered through my panic like a curse I couldn't shake:
You can't escape me.
His calloused fingers slid under the hem of my thin T-shirt. My stomach lurched as the fabric lifted, exposing my black lace panties and the flat plane of my belly to the cool air.
I couldn't see his face, but I felt his gaze devouring me.
Slowly, deliberately, he pushed the shirt higher until my breasts spilt free, nipples tight and aching from the cold.
A sharp, ragged inhale sliced through the darkness above me—his.
My teeth clenched.
Bastard.
If he thought the reaction of my body meant anything, he was cracked beyond saving.
"You are absolutely exquisite," he breathed, his palm gliding reverently across my bare stomach.
Heat climbed up my throat.
Damn him.
Damn him for making me remember the kiss we'd shared the night before, the way it made my lips tingle even now.
Damn me for missing it.
But I would never say that.
I sucked in a shuddering breath, fury igniting like wildfire in my chest.
"Fuck. Off," I growled, the words slurred but unmistakable.
He laughed again, softer this time, dark with hunger.
"Don't mind if I do," he murmured, his voice husky with anticipation.
Panic spiked to a fever pitch when his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of my panties, skimming over sensitive skin in a slow, taunting stroke.
I refused to shiver.
I clenched my teeth, determined to cling to the last shred of dignity I still had as he pulled the lace down to my knees in one smooth, practiced motion.
My entire body tensed.
Without thinking, I snapped my legs up and kicked hard. My heel slammed into his chest, and for one glorious instant, I felt the satisfying jolt of impact.
But he didn't fall.
He didn't even move.
He simply shifted his weight, pressing into the kick until it sent a bruising shockwave up my thigh.
I sucked in a strangled cry of pain. The second my body went slack, he stripped my underwear all the way down to my ankles.
Instead of tossing them aside, he rolled them into a neat bundle and tucked them into his pocket with infuriating calm.
Oh… God. That's disgusting.
He leaned over me, voice a dark purr.
"Oh, and don't you worry. I made sure your dear husband drank enough to forget his own name. He wouldn't know if he passed out in the garden or in the street."
The words sank into my chest, thick and heavy.
No one was coming.
No one would save me.
I sucked in a shaky breath, my brows drawing tight as something shameful and confusing curled in my belly.
Why… why am I relieved?
Oh mon Dieu… This is adultery.
A savage growl tore out of me, low and desperate.
I reared back, planting both feet flat on the mattress, and kicked with everything I had left.
But before I could land another hit, his hands shot out, snatching both my ankles in an unbreakable grip.
My heart slammed against my ribs, wild and furious.
Dammit.
I squirmed, twisting the upper half of my body in a last-ditch effort to get away. My wrists burned against the ropes, the friction tearing at my skin, but I didn't care. I had to move. Had to fight.
He moved just as quickly.
With a swift, fluid motion, his hands caught both my ankles. He shifted his weight to avoid the furious kick I aimed at his face, and then—
He forced my legs apart.
The sheets twisted around my thighs as he pinned my knees to the bed, spreading me open in a way that made heat roar up my chest, hot with rage, humiliation, and something darker I didn't want to name.
What felt like an eternity of struggle was over in less than fifteen seconds.
I stilled, my chest heaving, every breath a ragged rasp behind the tape.
If I kept bucking my hips, all I'd be doing was shoving my pussy right in his arrogant face. And he would just love that.
A fresh wave of rage ignited in my veins, hotter than any fear.
I screamed.
The sound came out as a strangled roar, muffled by the tape but still sharp enough to tear at my throat. My body shook with it, my eyes burning as I cursed him in every language I knew.
He didn't even flinch.
His eyes flicked down, dragging over the exposed skin he'd uncovered. The moonlight streaming through the curtains wasn't bright enough to illuminate everything, but it didn't matter.
He didn't need to see me.
He only wanted to feel me.
His reaction was almost animal—raw and hungry in a way that made something tighten low in my belly.
He inhaled, slow and deliberate, as though he were tasting the air itself.
"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You smell even better than I thought you would. So fucking sweet."
Revulsion twisted through me, chased by something I couldn't bear to admit.
I arched away from him as his head dipped lower. His mouth brushed over my pelvic bone, soft as a sigh.
I jerked hard, shoving my hips down into the mattress to escape the heat of his mouth.
He followed me anyway.