Sin & Silk

Chapter 4: Velvet Chains

The door clicked shut behind me, muffling the echo of Riley’s footsteps as he vanished deeper into his mansion. I stood there for a moment, clutching my bag, staring at the four poster bed draped in silk sheets that probably cost more than my father’s entire yearly salary.

I hated it. I hated that it was beautiful. I hated that the room smelled faintly of him,sharp cologne, expensive whiskey, and something darker I couldn’t name.

I hated that part of me wanted to sink into that bed and forget who I was.

But I didn’t. I unpacked my bag like a robot, folding my pajamas and tucking my mother’s necklace under the pillow, where no one could take it from me. Not even him.

When I turned, I nearly screamed. Riley was standing in the doorway…silent, watching. His jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up, strong forearms crossed over his chest.

“How long have you been standing there?” I snapped, clutching my robe tighter around my waist.

“Long enough,” he said, voice like velvet and iron. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him with a soft click that sounded far too final.

I backed up until my knees hit the edge of the bed. “Get out.”

He ignored that. Of course he did. He stalked forward, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on mine until he was close enough that I could see the stubble along his jaw, the muscle ticking when I pressed my palm against his chest to stop him.

His hand covered mine, warm and unyielding. “Do you know what I hate most, Ashley?” he murmured, voice low as he leaned in. His nose brushed mine, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Lies. I hate liars.”

“I haven’t lied to you,” I said through gritted teeth. My breath hitched when his other hand slid up my arm, fingers grazing the pulse fluttering in my throat.

“You did, though,” he said. His mouth lowered to my ear, words hot against my skin. “You told me you don’t care. But your body’s telling me a very different story.”

I opened my mouth to protest but his thumb brushed my bottom lip, and the word died in my throat.

“I should make you sleep alone tonight,” he murmured. His thumb dipped lower, dragging my lip down just enough that I felt the rush of heat between my thighs. “I should make you remember who you belong to.”

I hated the whimper that slipped out. Hated the way my hips tilted forward, like I was seeking him out. He caught my chin, forced me to meet his eyes.

“Say it,” he ordered.

I shook my head. “No.”

His smile turned sharp. “Wrong answer.”

He pushed me back until I was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand still cradling my jaw. He bent down, pressing his forehead to mine, so close I could taste his breath— whiskey and sin.

“You can hate me all you want,” he whispered, “but you’ll still crave me and when you do, you’ll come to me. On your knees, Ashley. And you’ll beg.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my thighs pressing together as shame and heat tangled inside me like a knot I couldn’t undo.

His hand dropped from my chin to my throat,not squeezing, just resting there, a reminder of how easily he could.

“Sleep well,” he said, kissing the corner of my mouth, soft this time, so soft it burned more than his teeth ever could. “Dream of me.”

He stepped back, watching me like he’d branded me with nothing but his hands and his mouth. He reached for the doorknob but then he paused, glancing at the closet behind me.

“Oh,” he added, voice casual but dripping with threat. “Don’t try to lock the door. If you do, I’ll come in anyway and I won’t be this gentle next time.”

Then he was gone, leaving me alone in a room that felt more like a gilded prison than ever before.

I sank back onto the bed, heart pounding so loud I wondered if he could hear it from down the hall. I hated him. I hated him so much I could taste it.

But the worst part,the part that kept me awake long after the house fell silent was the tiny, traitorous whisper that wanted him to come back and keep his promise.