CHAPTER 122: CHAPTER 122: TIGHTEN

Late at night.

Jean Ellison was awakened by a strong sense of confinement.

Before her consciousness fully returned, her body had already detected something was amiss.

She tried to turn over, but found she couldn’t move.

A tight feeling came from her wrists, and something firm was binding her ankles as well.

She suddenly opened her eyes.

Her vision blurred for a few seconds before adjusting to the dim light of the master bedroom.

The familiar outline of the chandelier on the ceiling came into view.

She struggled to sit up, only to realize in horror that her wrists were lifted high above her head, overlapping and tightly bound by a dark-colored tie, which seemed to be tied to the heavy headboard.

Her legs were even more widely spread, each ankle bound by soft fabric.

Like a man’s silk robe belt, securely tied to the bed’s posts on either side.

This position was both humiliating and defenseless.

Her heartbeat skipped a beat, and fear gripped her throat instantly.

What’s going on?

She struggled with her wrists, but the tie was tied tightly, and the professional knot hurt more the harder she struggled.

There was no sign of the silk belt loosening either.

Who did this?

Vic? Impossible.

He should have gone home a long time ago.

Then...

Her eyes suddenly swept to the side.

The other side of the bed was empty, but there were indentations on the pillow.

In the air, besides her familiar cedar scent, there was also a fresh and wet fragrance of someone who had just showered, mixed with a faint scent of body wash?

At that moment, the sound of water came clearly from the direction of the bathroom.

The master bathroom had frosted glass partitions that were semi-transparent.

At this moment, the light inside was on.

A tall and strong silhouette of a man was clearly projected onto the frosted glass.

The sound of water trickled down.

You could see the outline of water flowing across broad shoulders, a tight back, and a narrow waist.

The muscled lines were smooth and powerful, slightly undulating with the motion of the water.

Jean’s breath suddenly halted.

This figure... she knew it all too well.

Justin Holden?

He was back? What time is it? It’s been at most three or four hours since she left the community garden.

This was completely out of character for him.

If he was really with Leah Sutton... how could he possibly be back at this hour?

Unless...

A cold, terrifying thought suddenly shot through her mind.

Something went wrong.

He found out, discovered that the person last night wasn’t her.

That’s why he came back early, that’s why he’s treating her like this.

He’s back to settle the score with her.

A chill surged from the soles of her feet to envelop her entire body, making her feel ice-cold, even her fingertips trembled.

She could even imagine the terrifying coldness and rage on his face at this moment.

The sound of water stopped.

The silhouette inside the bathroom picked up a towel to dry himself.

The movements were unhurried, yet carried an invisible, suffocating sense of oppression.

The frosted glass door was pushed open.

Justin Holden came out.

He had only wrapped a towel casually around his waist, his upper body naked.

Unwiped water droplets slowly rolled down the defined chest and abs, into the edge of the waist’s towel.

His wet black hair hung over his forehead, with a few strands of ends still dripping with water.

His gaze, as solid as it felt, immediately and precisely locked onto the bound Jean on the bed.

In the dim light, those eyes were bottomless, like tempered ice and a volcano on the verge of eruption.

He walked steadily towards the large bed, his steps silent on the soft carpet.

But with every step closer, Jean’s heart contracted a bit more.

He stopped at the bedside.

He surveyed her from above, looking at her completely exposed and defenseless posture.

His gaze was aggressively slow, sweeping over her chest heaving with fear, her forcibly spread legs, and finally returning to her pale and panicked face.

The air froze, full of danger and a pulse-pounding tension.

Jean felt her whole body shiver under his gaze, her heart pounding as if it might burst from her chest.

She gulped with effort, her voice dry and trembling.

"Jus... Justin Holden, you, what are you doing? Let me go."

Justin didn’t answer immediately.

He just slowly bent down, bracing his arms on either side of her body, completely enveloping her in his shadow.

The water droplets from his wet hair dripped onto her cheek and neck, making her shiver slightly from the cold.

He was so close that Jean could clearly smell the residual scent of body wash on him, along with the distinctly dangerous cedar cold fragrance.

His gaze locked tightly onto her eyes, his voice terrifyingly low, each word sounding as if it was fished out from an ice cellar:

"What am I doing?"

He repeated her words, a cold arc tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?"

Jean swallowed hard, the man’s handsome face right before her eyes, one hand bracing on the bed, while the other moved to her waist.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Her denial would only fuel his anger.

Was he supposed to call her brave or cowardly for not daring to admit what she did to him?

"Alright, let me help you remember."

His large hand slowly moved to her lower belly, his palm almost covering her small stomach, her waist too thin, while his hand was exceptionally broad.

Jean shivered all over, feeling ticklish, a tingly numbness climbing up from her lower belly.

She shifted uneasily, trying to avoid his hand.

Obviously impossible, her slight twist of the waist appeared particularly enticing to his eyes.

He took out a bag from behind, containing the lingerie Jean had specifically bought to deceive him.

"You... what do you want to do."

Jean’s voice trembled as he undid the buttons of her nightgown, his long fingers touching her sensitive skin.

Instinctively, she turned her head to the side, biting her lower lip to keep herself from making any strange noises.

He was dressing her up.

She didn’t dare to shout loudly; Jesse was still asleep in the adjacent room.

"You drugged me with the help of a waiter."

"Sent another woman to my room."

"That fake concern of yours in the supermarket and all the care at dinner, it was all to push me to sleep with another woman."

"I hate you, Jean Ellison."

He leaned over her, complaining as he dressed her in the skimpy black lace underwear.

He wore an expression of pity on his face.

For a moment, Jean didn’t know how to respond, it seemed she was in the wrong while he was the victim.

Obviously, the situation now was the opposite.

She was the one at his mercy.

"I was wrong..."

He leaned closer, droplets from his wet hair falling on her collarbone.

"Since you know you were wrong, I want you to apologize to me."

Jean shuddered abruptly, trying to dodge but unable to move due to the restraints.

"Apologize..."

Her voice was weak, her eyes evasive.

"I promise I won’t trick you again, could you please let me go, I’m in pain, my wrists hurt."

Darkness surged in Justin’s eyes, his fingers brushed against the tie binding her wrists.

He leisurely stroked the smooth silk fabric.

"This tie," his voice was low, "does it look familiar?"

Jean bit her lip and said nothing.

Of course, it was familiar, it was his.

His fingertips slowly slid down the inside of her arm, trailing a shiver down her spine.

"Didn’t you say you wanted to try something different tonight, the blindfold I left at the hotel, consider this tie as my compensation to you, alright?"