Page 144 of They Are Mine

Oh, sweet girl.

Did you really think you were the one making the first move?

“Juliet,” she says. Then, like she’s offering me something sweet, something deliberate, she adds, “Juliet Lovelace.”

Oh.

Now, isn’t that fitting?

Soft, romantic, something straight out of a fairytale.

And yet, she isn’t innocent.

Not dressed like that. Not with the way she tilts her head slightly, letting those pretty pearls shift just enough to catch the light.

She knows the effect she has.

She just doesn’t realize she’s the one caught.

“Juliet,” I say, rolling her name slowly, letting it unfurl from my lips, watching the way her spine straightens, anticipating.

She swallows.

I see it.

The delicate bob of her throat, the way her pulse flutters just beneath the surface.

She doesn’t dress like this on campus.

I’ve seen her there before, not that she knows that.

Cute little skirts. Pretty bows in her hair. Tempting. Just as tempting as she is now.

The kind of softness I could sink into.

The kind of girl who would need a firm hand.

And I would enjoy giving it to her.

She lifts her wine glass, sips slow, eyes peeking at me over the rim.

Testing me.

Seeing if I’ll blink first.

I won’t.

I never do.

“And yours?” she asks, so polite, so demure, like she isn’t sitting there with her thighs pressed together, like she isn’t already thinking about how my hand would feel gripping her jaw, tilting her chin up, making her look at me when I take what I want.

“Elliot,” I say simply. “Sterling.”

Her lips part slightly.

She wasn’t expecting that.

Oh, sweetheart.

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