Page 32 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for being so considerate about this.”
Now he has no choice but to be my hero.
Once more, he sighs, the sound seeming to hang in the humid night air. “A cat named Calypso. Fine. Leave it to me.”
“So… We can meet up another time?” I know I won’t get away with skipping the honeymoon entirely, not after what we’d shared earlier and his outrageous comments when he was feeding me a bite of cake.
“No.”
I scowl furiously. “Did you listen to anything I said?”
“Every word, Isla.” Very intentionally he sweeps his gaze over me. “Your tone, your inflection, your facial expressions.”
He can’t mean that.
“We’re not actually leaving town until tomorrow morning,” he goes on.
“But—”
“We’re not going far, and we’ll go get your pet before we fly out.”
“No harm will be done if I just go home now.”
Dorian’s steel eyes darken, and his polished facade splinters. His kindness has vanished, as if it was never there.
“Oh, it most certainly can, little one.” His voice has dropped so that it is low, velvety smooth, and dripping with intent.
He captures my shoulders and backs me up, trapping me against the limestone railing.
Smoothly, the security guard moves, positioning himself to block the handful of other guests milling about.
Dorian presses his heat against me, making it impossible to breathe in this muggy air.
“I’m not waiting any longer to have you.”
My breath catches as he slowly lifts one of his hands.
Then he hovers over the neckline of my gown. The lace dips low where it was meant to fit Margaux’s curves.
Very deliberately, slowly, he traces the opening. Like earlier, his touch is a sensuous tease, bringing me to life.
I should try to escape, but I’m hypnotized by him.
“You remember, don’t you?” he murmurs. “How hardyour nipple got for me? I won’t forget it.” He slips inside the bodice, finding the peak through my bra, brushing it with a possessive stroke.
Despite my attempts to pretend I’m disinterested, I gasp.
“Like it was begging for my mouth.”
Response floods me, even as I shake my head in denial. “That’s not?—”
“You’ve got a lying mouth, little one.” With his thumb, he makes slow, torturous circles, and I bite my lip to stifle the sound clawing up my throat. “Your panties were damp earlier.”
A protest forms in my mind, but I can’t get the words out.
“You can say whatever you want, but your body will tell me the truth. And right now…” With his beautiful lips, he feathers kisses along my jawline, and when he speaks again, his voice is a growl. “You’re ready to melt in my arms and give me whatever I demand.”
