Page 15 of Bound By His Name
I reach for the warm and damp cloth I left beside the glass and clean her gently. I move like I’m handling something fragile—not because she’s weak, but because I know what she gave me.
Then I button her robe, one loop at a time. I kiss the inside of her wrist, just once, where her pulse still jumps beneath the skin.
Neither of us says anything as she watches me stand, still trembling.
I walk back to my chair and sit, not asking for anything more.
I stay until she does up the last button of her robe and walks out.
Chapter 7
Anya
I wake up aching.
There’s a heat under my skin, a pulse I can’t shake. My thighs remember the shape of his mouth. My fingers twitch at the memory of the glass toy warming inside me. Every time I sit, my body hums with leftover pleasure.
I walk the estate grounds alone, tracing the edges of the iron gates, watching shadows fall across the marble statues in the courtyard. I no longer care about the distance. I don’t care what comes next.
I just want him.
When Lev knocks that night, I don’t hesitate. I open the door and step aside.
He walks in carrying a small black pouch and a look that tells me today is different.
“I re-watched the footage,” he says. “From the study.”
I feel my cheeks heat. I expect him to talk about the way I straddled his lap and the sounds I made when I came.
Instead, he says, “You winced when you got off the desk.”
I blink. “What?”
He sets the pouch on the dresser and unzips it. My eyes widen to find inside—gauze, antiseptic and ointment.
“You scraped your thigh. Here.” He points to a spot just below the top of my leg. “May I?”
Following my surprised nod, he leads me to the bed and kneels in front of me. His hands part the hem of my robe as he easily finds the scrape I didn’t even know was there.
It’s faint and barely red, yet he treats it carefully and slowly.
No one has ever touched me this way, not in my entire life.
Not my father and definitely not even myself.
This man—the one everyone warned me about, the one with a brutal reputation and rumors of ruined women—touches my skin like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he blinks.
His fingers brush nothing but the injured spot and the edge of the bandage. He doesn’t linger or leer.
He just sees me.
When he finishes, he softly presses his lips above the gauze.
Something breaks open in my chest. It’s a feeling never felt before. Without another thought, I climb into his lap.
He doesn’t move at first. His hands hover near my back and his breath catches against my shoulder.
I feel his heat and restraint.
