Page 42 of Taming Scarlet

As he scrolled.

Then got up, washed things in the kitchen.

And… walked away from me.

Went into his own room.

Time was fluid then.

It could have been moments I sat there, but it felt like hours. And when the moments turned to hours, it felt like years.

As I was forced to be still.

To be quiet.

To do nothing but think and feel.

Eventually, as unexpected and confusing as the night before, I felt tears well up and pour out, an endless stream fed by some deep inner well I hadn’t even been aware was there.

Because the thing was, I wasn’t crying because I was physically hurting.

Sore, yes. But not sore enough to whine about it, let alone cry.

This pain was emotional.

Shit I didn’t even know existed until it was purging out of me.

But, I guess, I was never truly ever simply… alone with myself.

I filled my days with strangers’ attention. I filled my nights with drunken fun.

All to, what? Avoid this? Run from this?

This deep hollowness inside?

I was still sniffling when I heard footsteps coming down the hall toward me.

This time, without shoes on.

And when Julian appeared before me, all I saw were thin black sleep pants.

Had he been… sleeping?

While I’d been naked and bound in the living room?

He let out a deep sigh as his fingers snagged my chin, pulling it up, and inspecting my face that felt raw from crying.

“I thought so,” he said, but seemed to be speaking to himself. Then, “Okay,” as he moved behind me, and unclipped my wrists from my ankles.

He didn’t remove the binds, though.

Instead, he used them to pull me until I understood his meaning and got to my feet.

He released me as he sat down on the couch.

This time, I didn’t mind my lowered gaze position because I got a real eyeful of his bare chest and stomach as he sat.

Those washboard abs I knew would be there. The corded arms.

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