Page 148 of The Owner's Temptation

“Lucian,” I say, caught between surprise and warning, my tone threaded with a not-so-subtledon’t-be-an-assholeedge.

“You’re needed inside,” he replies coldly, his voice low and sharp as steel. His hands find my hips, and with one firm motion, I’m off the ledge and standing in front of him before I can so much as blink.

His hand slides low across my back, guiding me away from the men like I’m nothing more than a prop being rearranged. “Excuse her,” he says flatly to the group behind me.

And then he pushes me forward—toward the arched doorway at the far end of the patio, away from the party, the lights, the spectacle I so carefully created.

“You arenotgoing to do this,” I hiss, my voice low but furious, barely keeping up as he drives us through the crowd.

“I’ll do what the fuck I want with my trainee,” he growls, his fingers moving from my back to my upper arm, gripping me hard enough that I almost stumble.

“Let go of me,” I snarl under my breath.

“Never, Angel.”

The name slams into me. Low and reverent and filthy, all at once. It’s a curse and a caress, and I hate how it makes me shiver.

We step inside, the elevator ahead of us. The doors open with a soft chime, revealing two Companions laughing as they exit—until they see Lucian’s face.

They part like the sea.

He pushes me in without hesitation, following me into the sleek, mirrored interior like a wolf corralling prey. The doors slide closed behind us, sealing us in.

Then he punches the button for the top floor.

Hard.

So hard I swear I hear the plastic flex beneath his knuckle. The number glows red. The elevator hums to life.

But I don’t have time to process any of it.

Because Lucian turns on me before the doors even shut completely.

He presses me back against the wall in one fluid movement, his hand on my throat as he tears at the knot of his tie, yanking it loose with a sharp jerk.

His eyes burn into mine—anger, possession, lust—every raw edge of the man he tries so hard not to be.

“Take your fucking panties off,” he growls, voice gravel and fire, every word dragged from a place he can no longer suppress.

My heart stutters. Heat floods me instantly.

I back slowly into the corner, my breath shallow, fingers reaching for the hem of my dress. But before I can even draw it up, Lucian drops to his knees in front of me—and the air is stolen from my lungs.

He doesn't say a word.

In one swift, commanding motion, the hem of my dress is shoved up around my waist. The cool elevator air hits my thighs as his hands hook into the sides of my panties and yanks them down.

I barely manage to step one foot free before he punches the emergency stop button behind him. The elevator glides gently to a halt, a soft alarm beginning to pulse above us.

It doesn’t matter.

None of it matters.

Because his mouth is on me.

I gasp, hard, my hand flying to his hair to hold on—no, toanchormyself.

One of his hands grips my ass tightly, the other anchoring my thigh up and over his shoulder. My back presses deeper into the corner, but there’s no escape.

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