Page 51 of Bought
And that scares me more than any family dinner ever could.
Then his face changes, brows knitting, and his jaw hardening to stone. He says, “I have a serious question for you.”
The look in his eyes makes ice seep into my blood.
What does he know? My stomach drops. And how did he find out?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lucian
I want to strip away every wall she’s built. I want to touch every inch of her body until she forgets who she was before me. I want her to feel it all, fear, pleasure, surrender.
And I want it all now.
I’ve pushed this game far enough. The teasing. The distance. We’ll be forever connected in this way, and there will be no more space between us to pretend this was simple or forgettable.
"Listen, Lucian—" she says, hand on my chest, like she’s about to confess something serious.
I don’t let her finish.
“Want to come back to mine for a bit before dinner?”
Her brows arch. “That was your serious question?”
“Better than a UFO sighting.” I flash her a grin.
Her lips curve despite her nerves. “Ah. I see. Payback.”
“I’ll have a car pick everyone up at your place later.” I leave no room for argument. “Let’s go.”
She hesitates. “What about Cass’s chair?”
“The family has a van with a lift.”
“Of course it does.”
I smirk. “The Bachmans have their fair share of accidents.”
“Accidents.” Doubts linger as she looks away. “Maybe we should go back.”
I’ve said the wrong thing.
I pull her flush against me and kiss her. Her mouth parts immediately. She melts into me, soft, sweet, and needy. My body responds like I’ve been starving. And maybe I have been hungry for more.
For her. I need her. Now.
Her hips move against mine, a naughty little grind that’s a silent plea. The way I’m kissing her gives her a glimpse of what’s to come, and she wants this as much as I do.
I break the kiss and whisper, “What do you say?”
“Okay.”
We don’t talk on the ride. Not about what we both know is coming.
She’s silent beside me, hands clutching a shopping bag like it’s a lifeline. Her thoughts are loud. I can see it in her posture, the way her shoulders are locked, the way her eyes flick nervously toward me.
No more pretending that this thing between us is forgettable or straightforward.
