Page 82 of The Owner's Temptation

Lucian remains quiet as he enters, glancing around discreetly, clearly trying not to make it obvious he’s checking my apartment for threats.

The gesture should annoy me, but instead, it sends another wave of heat rushing beneath my skin. Still, I roll my eyes slightly and say,

"If you want to make sure there are no boogeymen lurking around, feel free to look."

He pauses, a brief smirk touching his lips before he abandons the pretense entirely, stalking quietly through my home. He flips on lights, looking inside closets and behind doors, meticulously ensuring everything is safe.

It’s oddly comforting, watching him prowl like that—protective, thorough, his powerful frame moving with calm, controlled purpose.

But my blood freezes in my veins when he reaches my bedroom doorway and stops abruptly, body going tense. My stomach drops.

Oh no.

I’d completely forgotten my vibrator was still sitting boldly on the nightstand, charging.

After last night’s stunt with Lucian’s"hands on the desk"command, followed by the Devil pinning me possessively at The Masquerade, I’d practically burned the thing out trying to find release.

For a full, agonizing minute, Lucian doesn’t move.

He simply stares at the nightstand, unmoving, before finally walking into the bedroom, checking the rest of the space. Heat surges over my entire body, embarrassment mingled with a perverse thrill that he now knows exactly what he does to me.

He finishes quickly, inspecting my bathroom, closet, and the balcony, carefully checking the locks. I remain rooted in place by the kitchen counter, hands flat on the cool surface, heart hammering so loudly he can probably hear it.

When Lucian returns to the living room, he stands there silently, tall and devastatingly attractive, hands planted firmly on his hips as he slowly sweeps his gaze around my apartment again.

Watching him like this, all lethal intensity and restrained strength, sends desire coiling low and tight in my belly.

"Can I get you?—"

“You should get an alarm system,” he cuts me off firmly, meeting my eyes with fierce seriousness.

I press my lips together, fighting off a smirk that I’m sure shows anyway. “Okay.”

He studies me silently for another beat, tension flickering between us before he takes a deep breath, straightening. “I should go.”

My throat feels dry, and my heart sinks at the idea of him leaving, but I force a small smile. “Right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lucian gives me a final, lingering glance that sends chills dancing over my skin, then turns and quietly lets himself out.

I exhale shakily as the door clicks shut behind him, unable to deny the burning ache still pulsing steadily between my legs—or the realization that Lucian Vale, in my home, feels far more dangerous to me than any threat he just checked for.

* * *

Iwake up feeling... weirdly amazing.

The kind of sleep that settles deep into your bones and doesn’t let go until morning. I blink slowly at the ceiling, stretched comfortably in my sheets, and let out a little sigh of satisfaction.

Must’ve been the combination of three toe-curling orgasms—thank you, newly-charged vibrator—and the residual adrenaline from watching Lucian beat the ever-loving shit out of a creep in a tailored suit.

Apparently violence and orgasms are the key to restful slumber. Who knew?

By the time I’m showered, dressed, and out of my robe, the apartment smells like toasted bagel and fresh coffee. I spread my favorite honey-walnut schmear over the warm bread, humming softly, when a sharp knock at the door makes me pause.

I glance at the clock, frowning. It’s still early. Too early for unexpected visitors.

I peek through the peephole and immediately groan.

Great. My landlord.

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