Page 68 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
Maybe this is nothing more than a game to him. He’s toying with me, keeping me guessing. Since I’m mentally scrambling to keep up, his behavior is shockingly effective.
My heart is pounding as I sit up, tugging the sheet with me, tucking it beneath my arms to shield myself. My robe lies crumpled on the floor, a few steps away. I consider darting for it so I can wrap myself in its terry-cloth armor, but I hesitate. How long will he be gone?
Deciding it’s not worth the risk, I settle for pulling the sheet up just a little more.
Within moments, he’s back, a fresh mug in hand—steam curling up, the scent richer now, layered with a hint of vanilla.
“This should be better,” he tells me.
He offers me the drink, handle first, and our fingers brush, shooting arrows of awareness through me. “Thank…” I clear my throat since a knot is suddenly lodged there. “Thank you.”
Hoping he’ll leave, I focus on the coffee. The first sip is amazing: smooth, creamy, exactly the way I would have made it. And that unsettles me even more.
“Is it to your satisfaction?”
“Definitely.” As I take a second sip, Brennan enters the room.
“Morning.”
His voice is deliciously gruff, and I look over at him.
Unlike last night, he’s dressed all in black. The short-sleeved black T-shirt makes him look impossibly large, and no doubt that’s intentional. With his nicks and scars, he’s scary as hell. I’m grateful he’s on my side. Or seems to be.
“For you.” He raises his arms a little.
Belatedly I see he’s holding a dress—soft blue fabric that’s folded over his arm—along with sandals and a small stack of undergarments, delicate and neatly pressed.
“Dorian arranged for all of this.” He sets the items on the bed beside me, his scarred fingers brushing the edge of the sheet.
Looking at Dorian, I scowl. “But… How?”
“As much as I’d prefer to have you travel naked, the rest of the world might not consent.”
Who is this man? Last night, he discarded me. And now, he’s anticipating my every need.
Intuition screams that I’d do well to nod and smile, go along with his moods and whims. Being agreeable mightkeep me sane. And yet… Compliance feels like surrender, and I’m not sure I can do that. Not after last night.
Brennan is watching me, his brow creasing slightly, as if he senses the war inside me. Dorian tilts his head, his gaze piercing, waiting.
Silence stretches between Dorian and me, thick with unspoken challenges. I grip the mug more tightly, the warmth grounding me, but my resolve wavers. Who am I kidding? With Dorian, there’s no winning—only surviving.
Yet a reckless part of me wonders what would happen if I pushed back again. There’s an angel on one of my shoulders. A devil on the other.
Which one is going to win?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Isla
Moments later, I’m alone, but they haven’t closed the door behind them. The soft click of their footsteps fades down the hall, leaving me clutching the mug, its warmth seeping into my palms.
I take another drink, more to give myself something to do than anything else. The coffee is perfection, a quiet reminder of Dorian’s unsettling attentiveness. How had he accomplished that so quickly?
And more…why?
Last night, after his argument with Brennan, he’d fucked me raw and walked away. Now he’s fetching me coffee, providing clothing, taking care of me like some twisted savior.
Sighing, I set the mug down. The clink against the nightstand seems too loud in the silence.
