XLVI

Bound to the bed, I lost track of time. I was caught up in the hushed whisper of the memory of Isaac’s touch on my skin. It kept the thrumming of anticipation alive, making the seconds feel like hours, and the hours pass in the blink of an eye. I craved him, and the longer I waited, the more I understood what it felt like to be stranded in a desert. The less likely sustenance seemed, the more it consumed my mind.

If my hands were free, I would be tearing out of my own skin, seeking out any form of release. The door creaked open not a moment too soon, as I was just preparing to make myself bloody in search of that freedom.

Heavy, calculated footsteps found their way to the end of the bed I had been posed on. The scent carried with them reassured me I had no qualms being his model. The closer he got, the closer my anticipation grew to a fever pitch, zapping through the air with such electricity it could turn lightbulbs on.

So this was what true desire felt like.

The footsteps ca