Silas's hands were methodical as he undressed me. Not rushed. Not rough. Every movement deliberate, controlled, like he was unwrapping something he owned.
My shirt hit the floor. Then my bra. He traced the marks on my skin from last night's punishment, his fingers cool against the heat.
"Still tender?"
"A little."
"Good. You should remember what happens when you break the rules." He unbuttoned my jeans, slid them down my legs. "Step out."
I did.
He circled me slowly, taking in every inch. The inspection should have made me feel exposed, vulnerable. Instead, heat pooled low in my stomach.
"You're beautiful when you're angry," he said. "All that fire. All that defiance. It makes breaking you so much more satisfying."
"I'm not broken."
"Not yet. But we're getting there." He stopped i
