Page 35 of His Scarlette Obsession
I sweep her up in my arms and carry her to the leather couch. She’s limp and boneless from her climax, but her eyes are still hazy with want when I lay her down.
“Lykan, wait—”
But I’m done waiting. Done pretending this isn’t inevitable.
I strip off my shirt and move over her, positioning myself between her thighs. The head of my cock presses against her entrance, and she’s so wet I could slide into her in one thrust.
But I force myself to stop.
To ask the question that will change everything.
“Who do you belong to?”
Resistance flashes across her face, then fear, then frustration. But desire wins in the end. It always does with us.
“Yours,” she chokes out. “I’m yours, Lykan.”
Scarlette
He smiles down at me, a smile that’s both possessive and seductive, the moment I admit the truth.
“Yes,habibti. You are mine.”
I press my hands against his chest, my heart hammering against my ribs. Since I’ve admitted that, surely he’ll let me go now? Surely this madness can stop before it goes too far?
“Lykan—”
“Now, it’s time to make you my wife.”
Wait.
What?
Did he just say—
All thoughts fade the moment he covers my lips with his, his tongue invading my mouth, his hands claiming my body with a hunger that steals my breath. I’m dimly aware that he’s lifting me, carrying me somewhere, but I can’t focus on anything except the way he tastes, the way his mouth moves against mine like he’s starving for me.
When he sets me down, I blink and try to orient myself. We’re still in his office, but now I’m seeing it properly for the first time. The space is stunning and stark—all clean lines and monochromatic elegance. Black leather furniture againstpristine white walls, dramatic charcoal sketches hung with precision, everything rendered in shades of shadow and light.
It’s beautiful.
It’s also somehow lonely.
Like a man who sees the world in absolutes, with no room for the messy grays in between.
But I don’t have time to analyze his decorating choices because Lykan is already reaching for the zipper at the back of my dress. The cool air hits my skin as the fabric pools at my feet, and suddenly I’m standing before him in nothing but my bra and panties.
I should feel exposed. Vulnerable.
Instead, I feel powerful when I see the way his eyes darken as they drink me in.
“Perfect,” he breathes, and the reverence in his voice makes me shiver.
His hands are gentle as he reaches around to unclasp my bra, letting it fall away. Then his thumbs hook into the sides of my panties, and those disappear too, leaving me completely bare before him.
I want to cover myself, but the look in his eyes stops me. He’s staring at me like I’m something precious. Something worth worshipping.
“Lie down,” he says softly, gesturing to the long black leather couch.
