Page 45 of His Temptation

Daragh’s hands gripped her hips, his body pressing her into the mattress. “Say it.”

Siobhan clenched around him, her breath coming fast.

Daragh’s hand slid up her throat, his thumb brushing over her jaw, his gaze locking onto hers. “Say it, kitten.”

She trembled, her body tightening around him. “I’m yours.”

Daragh let out a victorious growl, his grip tightening. “Damn right you are.”

Then he fucked her like he was staking his claim all over again.

Every thrust sent pleasure spiraling through her, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over until she was clawing at him, desperate, mindless, lost.

When she came, it wasn’t just an orgasm.

It was surrender.

And as Daragh ground against her, spilling himself inside her, she knew she was his… completely, irrevocably. She knew she would never belong to anyone else.

Siobhan lay tangled in the sheets, her body still pulsing with the aftershocks of what had just happened. Her skin was damp, her thighs still trembled, her throat marked by the claiming bite that sealed her fate. She had fought against him, against this, against the undeniable truth of what they were to each other, but in the end, Daragh had shattered every wall she’d ever built. She had no defenses left. None.

The cool night air drifted through the cracked window, teasing against her heated skin, but it did nothing to soothe the chaos inside her. She wasn’t just his in name, wasn’t just bound by circumstance or force. He had claimed her body, mind, and soul. And now, there was no turning back.

Beside her, Daragh ran a possessive hand down her back, his grip firm as he pulled her closer. He didn’t touch her to comfort her—he touched her to remind her. She belonged to him. She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His eyes, hooded and filled with satisfaction, hid something deeper, something more dangerous.

“What are you thinking, kitten?” His voice was a low rumble against her skin.

“How do you know I’m thinking anything?”

Daragh chuckled. “You’re always thinking.”

Siobhan swallowed, but her throat was tight. “I was thinking I don’t know what happens next.”

Daragh’s lips curved into a slight smile, though there was no amusement in it. “I do.”

“Do you?”

His fingers traced lazy patterns over her hip, but his gaze didn’t waver. “You’re mine now. Not just in bed. Not just in name. Mine.”

Her breath hitched. She should have fought him on it. She should have thrown his possessiveness back in his face. Instead,she curled her fingers against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

“This isn’t what I wanted.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of her truth.

Daragh tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Liar.”

A sharp burst of irritation flared in her, but it was useless to fight it. He was right, damn him.

She turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling, her fingers trailing absently over the mark he had left on her. She could still feel the bite, the pressure of his teeth sinking into her skin, sealing the bond that had already existed between them long before either of them acknowledged it.

It was too much. Too much want. Too much need. Too much of everything she had spent years trying to keep at bay.

Siobhan forced herself to sit up, ignoring the way her body protested the movement. She needed space, needed air, needed something that wasn’t Daragh’s presence suffocating her.

But the second she moved, his hand curled around her wrist, stopping her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She stiffened, her fingers curling into the sheet beneath her. “I just need a minute.”

Daragh’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. “You don’t get to run, kitten.”

---