Page 43 of Prized Possession

“You don’t have to thank me. I have very selfish reasons for helping you, and we both know that. Don’t forget, I’m the bad guy in this story. But I’m not going to say no to a home cooked meal.” His voice is deep and gravelly, and as he stares at me, his bright blue eyes darkening, I can see the dangerous side that he’s desperate for me not to forget.

The problem is, the more time I spend with him, the more I don’t care about that side of him. I like him, and the way my body responds to him scares the shit out of me. I have a feeling Marcus Morelli has the power to break me, and I just might let him.

Watching Chloe traipse around my kitchen like she’s lived here her whole life is both a massive turn on and a headache all rolled into one.

This was supposed to be simple—bring her here, use her for the sex I’ve been thinking about since she developed tits, have her help me get Jake back in line, and then send her back to that tool Scott like it never happened.

I was a stupid dick for thinking that I could fuck her out of my system. I’ve not even really touched her yet and I can’t fucking get enough of her. She’s going to be my drug of choice, and that scares the shit out of me.

Even though she’s here with me now, and her family haven’t been able to stop it, that doesn’t mean anything has changed between us. She’s still fucking forbidden, not to mention engaged to be married.

Besides, I don’t do relationships, and that’s exactly what Chloe deserves. She doesn’t need another fucker who just wants to use her for sex, and right now, that’s all I could give her.

Even if I wanted a relationship with her, it could never happen. It wouldbe a direct breach of the peace treaty, and the Santoros would declare war on us, putting Chloe directly in the middle of a battle between me and her family. I’m most definitely not worth that, and she doesn’t need that kind of hassle either.

So, I plan to enjoy her fully while she’s here, whilst holding on to my real motives. I have to remember what’s at stake if my dick decides it wants more from her. We can have sex, but that’s it. No future, no feelings, nothing.

Despite knowing all this, repeating it over and over in my head, the image of Chloe cooking in my kitchen in those ridiculous little shorts she wears, with flour on her face, will stay with me for much longer than it should.

I stand in the doorway, just watching her. She has her headphones in, and she’s dancing around the kitchen with a bright smile on her face as she cooks. It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen her in a long time, making her pretty face seem younger.

She’s not wearing any make-up, but she doesn’t need any. Her bright silver eyes sparkle, and the heat from the oven has given her cheeks a rosy glow. Then there’s her plump pink lips that look so soft, as she runs her tongue along them, tasting her food.

She’s wearing the most ridiculous black cotton shorts that stop just under the swell of her arse, and her milky thighs and legs are on full display. Even if I tried not to look at her arse—and I’m not sure why the fuck I wouldn’t—I’d be drawn to her by the way her hips sway to the music only she can hear.

Her curves are enough to make a man’s mouth water. Full hips that are enough for me to grab hold of as I pull her into me. And even though she’s wearing an oversized baggy T-shirt, it does very little to hide her amazing tits.

As it’s so loose on her, it hangs off one shoulder, showing off her bra strap and the start of her rather impressive cleavage. It says a lot about the girl that she can look so fucking gorgeous with just one shoulder on display.

I’m having some very inappropriate thoughts about sinking my teeth into her collarbone, marking her to show everyone that she’s mine—even if it is only temporary.

She must catch me standing in the doorway, staring at her, as she stops in the middle of a very sexy hip shimmy, her eyes going wide while she grabs her phone off the counter, no doubt to turn off her music, before pulling the earbuds out.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” she mutters, her already flushed cheeks becoming redder.

“That’s because I didn’t tell you I was here. I thought I’d take in the show for a bit first,” I reply, my lips tilting into that smirk I know she loves when the flush over her cheeks spreads down across her chest.

I wonder how far down it will travel,I think to myself, feeling my cock twitchagain, having already started to harden at the sight of her gorgeous curves and swaying hips.

“Oh,” she squeaks, her gaze quickly flicking down to the pan on the stove as she picks up a spoon and starts to stir. “I dance when I cook.”

“I can see that.” I try to hold back the smile that’s threatening to overtake me, loving how embarrassed she’s getting.

“Dinner is almost ready. Where would you like to eat?” she asks, clearly trying to change the conversation.

I nod my head towards the small dining table in the corner of the room. “I’ll set the table. What would you like to drink?”

I move towards the drawer where we keep the placemats and then the one with the cutlery, as silence fills the air while Chloe ponders my question.

“Erm, do you have wine?”

She sounds unsure, like she’s worried I might say she can’t have wine with her meal. There’s clearly more to her behaviour that I’m missing, but now’s not the time to unpick everything.

“Of course. Do you prefer red or white?” I ask.

She tilts her head to the side, pondering my question. “Well, I’ve made chicken alfredo pasta with garlic bread and a side salad, so whatever you think would go best, I guess?”

The final words lift in tone, making it into a question, and I realise she’s somehow managed to avoid answering what she likes, and has made it into what I want instead.

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