Page 203 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
Brennan’s mouth finds my bare shoulder, his agreement a quiet rumble against my skin. “We’re not letting you go, Isla. Not now. Not ever.”
For once, I don’t have to fight it. I just let myself believe them.
I’m home. Where I belong.
And where I intend to stay…
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Dorian
Some nights, coming home feels like taking back the kingdom.
This evening, it feels like locking the gates and throwing the key into the bayou.
I have everything I need in life. Brennan and Isla. Both are essential to my happiness, as I found out the hard way.
I’m a fortunate man, and I will never take their love for granted.
The elevator doors glide open on the penthouse, and Calypso is there before the chime fades, weaving between Isla’s ankles with a chirp like she’s been deprived of her queen for decades instead of three hours.
I watch the way Isla bends to scoop her up, the silk of her dress sliding over her thighs, the soft kiss she plants on the cat’s head.
Isla’s all mine, even when she’s not thinking about it.
“Sorry, baby,” she murmurs to the furball. Her voice is warm and happy. And I want it to always be this way.
Dinner was a performance—and as always, she was the star.
Now, in the quiet of our shared penthouse, she yawns, covering it with Calypso like I won’t notice.
“Mind if I take a bath?” Isla asks, and her eyes flick to mine. “Before…you know.” The words drop to a whisper, and color rises in her cheeks.
I feel the heat hit my bloodstream. How is it possible that she can still blush, given everything we’ve shared? Her adorable innocence is one of the things I love most about her.
“If you don’t join us in an hour…” I let my gaze drift down, then back up, slow enough to make her thighs press together. “…we’ll come looking.” I step closer, lower my voice. “And you won’t like the consequences.”
She looks at Brennan, then at me like she’s weighing the odds of rebellion. Part of me hopes she tries. There’s no finer view than her ass turning red under my palm.
Brennan tips his head to one side.
Clearly he’d enjoy her disobedience every bit as much as I would. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Most nights, she enjoys a glass of wine with her bath. So much so that we even bought her a holder for it that attaches to the tile.
Right now, though, she shakes her head. “I think I had enough with dinner.” She pauses. “And I think you both intend to keep me awake a little longer.”
I sweep my gaze over her delectable body. No matter how many times I explore her, I’m endlessly fascinated. I can’t get enough. “You can count on it.”
She inhales deeply, as if already sliding into the soft, sensual space I love so much.
My bride—our wife—disappears toward the bedroom, Calypso trotting after her like she’s on guard duty.
I turn for my office. Brennan follows without needing to be invited.
I pour Bonds over ice, the cubes catching light from the city’s glass sprawl below. He takes his glass to the window. Always watching. Always calculating.
Moments later, my phone rings.
