Page 24 of Claimed By the Boss

I shiver with pleasure. “Don’t want to let it go yet.”

An arm wraps around my waist and drags me higher. “Do you not want to let me go?”

My fingers splay over his tattoo as I search his face. Do I have the right to claim this powerful Alpha?

At my hesitation, he rakes back my hair. “Are you going to run away again?”

Heart pounding, I shake my head.

“Good.” He squeezes my hip. “Because you belong to me now.”

Eyes locked with his, I lean down to brush our lips together. “More.”

His Alpha rumble rises from beneath me. “Greedy little thing.”

“Make me yours.” My knees curl on either side of his hips. “Fill me until I can’t move without you dripping out of me.”

With a hungry growl, he rolls me back under his body. “I knew you were made for me to claim.”

Gripping my chin, his mouth covers mine.

Later, lying entwined together, our needs temporarily satisfied, I realize that Nolan never directly answered my question about Rich.

Does it change how I feel about Nolan if he killed Rich? No, and I don’t care if that makes me a bad person, as long as he wants me.

The driver parks in front of my apartment complex, and Nolan stares at the broken-down building. “This is where you’ve been living?”

“It’s the cheapest place I could find within walking distance of the club.” Embarrassed that Nolan is seeing any of this, I pop open the car door. “I’ll be right back. Shouldn’t take more than five minutes to pack a bag.”

The sound of the other door opening pulls me around, and I stare at Nolan in horror. “Where are you going?”

“With you.” Before I can protest, he slides out and shuts the door.

Scrambling out onto the sidewalk, I spin around.

The luxury sedan looks out of place at the curb amid the broken down, rusty vehicles that line the street alongside the graffiti-covered buildings. Only drug dealers have nice rides in this neighborhood.

If it was nighttime, I’d worry about getting hijacked.

I look at Nolan, who wears a pair of charcoal-gray slacks and a soft, designer black sweater. “You should stay with your driver. I promise I won’t run away.”

“No.” Stern eyes meet mine. “You’re not going up there alone.”

The desire to protest rolls down my tongue, but I swallow it. Nothing I can do short of sliding back into the car will stop Nolan from tagging along and seeing the shithole he rescued me from by taking me home with him.

Will having the stark differences in social position shoved in his face change his mind about keeping me? I wouldn’t blame him if it did. Someone like Nolan should have models on his arm, not me.

The stairs creak as I walk up ahead of him, and I pull my threadbare jacket closer against the chill in the air.

After waking up to breakfast in bed and Nolan pampering me by washing my hair, coming here crashes me back to reality. The server uniform I put on after my shower felt like putting on a stranger’s clothes, the cheap material abrasive where beard burns pepper my body.

I suddenly empathize with Cinderella after she returns from the ball to become a servant again.

At my floor, I turn left onto the exterior walkway, my footsteps light so as not to wake my neighbors. Then the click of dress shoes joins me, and Nolan’s warm hand touches my back, reminding me that my prince came home with me.

Everything about this situation feels surreal.

At my apartment, I hesitate, but Nolan isn’t going to change his mind about coming in with me.

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