He’s jealous. He’s admitting that he’s jealous. Cole runs his thumb across my lower lip. My sweat is gasoline. Every place he touches ignites on fire. I hear a sharp click and the cold clasp of a manacle closing around my wrist. Before I can move, before I can even glance down at my own wrist, Cole takes three swift steps, dragging me toward the wall. He yanks my arms over my head and handcuffs me in place, the chain wrapped around an exposed pipe.
