Though Skylar’s voice carried a hint of seduction, her gaze betrayed her. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused, and lost.
Joe’s expression shifted as a sudden realization hit him.
Without hesitation, he slipped the red bracelet off his own wrist and attempted to clasp it around Skylar’s.
But she wasn’t making it easy. Skylar squirmed against the sheets, her movements oddly urgent—trying to distract him, as if attempting to continue what she had started.
Despite her persistence, Joe’s strength easily overpowered hers. With a firm but careful grip, he secured the bracelet onto her wrist.
The moment the bracelet clicked into place, Skylar fell still.
Within seconds, her clouded eyes cleared, and awareness returned. She blinked up at Joe, finally noticing the situation—he was shirtless, leaning over her, and the air between them was still thick with tension.
A droplet of sweat slid down his temple and landed lightly on her chest, sending a cool jolt through her. Her eyes widened as realization hit.
“You—” she began.
“You almost took advantage of me,” Joe said calmly, cutting her off. “You seemed to enjoy yourself too. Had a good time touching me, didn’t you? Feeling satisfied yet, or do you need a little more?”
His lips curved into a smirk, teasing but unreadable. Then, he reached for a towel and gently covered her with it, shielding her from further embarrassment.
Still, the flame in his eyes hadn’t quite died.
Skylar was mortified. Her mind rapidly replayed everything that had just happened. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red under the soft light of the room.
“I—It wasn’t me,” she stammered, grasping for an explanation. “It was that dress… it must’ve affected me. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
She lowered her gaze, biting her lip. The memories came rushing back.
The original owner of the traditional dress had been a famed hostess in her time. That dress had been custom-made, meant to enhance her allure and help her climb the social ladder.
But what no one knew then was that the seamstress had been working under someone else’s orders. A cursed seal had been sewn into the lining of the dress. The hostess had died under tragic circumstances not long after.
Skylar now understood that she must have fallen under the influence of that lingering curse. Even after the dress had been burned, remnants of its power might have transferred to the red bracelet. She recalled how Viola had asked her to place it on Joe earlier.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the bracelet now wrapped around her own wrist.
The shame hit her all at once. She remembered everything—touching Joe, how exposed she’d been, and the sensation of her lips pressed to his skin.
And then came the final memory—her lips brushing his neck, clumsy and overly bold.
Just as she was about to bury her face in the pillow, Joe pointed at his shoulder. “See this?”
Skylar followed his gaze. Bruises. And not just any bruises—they were clearly bite marks.
Her mouth opened slightly in disbelief.
“W–What happened?” she asked, her voice faltering.
Joe chuckled, thoroughly enjoying her reaction. “A rather fierce little puppy got me,” he said with mock seriousness. “Think I should get a rabies shot?”
He caught her wrist before she could escape and guided her fingers to the marks.
Skylar’s entire body stiffened.
Did he just call me a puppy? she thought incredulously. If anything, he’s the animal here!
But Joe wasn’t done. He leaned a bit closer and pointed to his lower lip. “Here too,” he added.
Skylar stared at the faint scratch, undoubtedly from her teeth. Her guilt surged, but she wasn’t about to let him have the last word.
“Fine,” she admitted, trying to save face. “I did it. I take full responsibility, okay?”
Without waiting for a reply, she pulled her hand free, tightened her bathrobe, and bolted out of the room in a flurry of retreat.
Joe narrowed his eyes as he watched the door swing open and bang lightly against the wall.
He sat in silence for a moment, then stood and headed to the bathroom.
The mirror reflected the marks on his skin—faint bruises and that tiny nick on his lip.
He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair.
“Adorable and fierce,” he murmured. “But she’s mine.”
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