Beautiful Torture
He removed the jacket, then the shirt, needing to breathe without Adrian’s choice touching his skin.
His eyes dropped to his ribs.
He froze.
Beneath the pale skin on his left side was a tiny scar.
It was small. Too small to mean nothing. The line was neat, clean, and careful, like someone had cut him open and closed him again with patience.
Lucas touched it.
A sharp sting shot through his side.
He gasped and stepped back, hitting the sink.
For one second, he heard something.
A soft beep.
Lucas stopped breathing.
He searched the bathroom for a hidden machine, a camera, anything that could have made the sound.
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