Page 148 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
“Did you pay for the wedding?”
I’ll tell her what I can, when I can, and this is easy. “Yes.”
She scowls, as if uncovering another new mystery.
I’m across the room before I realize I’ve moved, my fingers curling around her jaw, not to restrain—but tofeel. To remind myself she’s real. She’s here.
I’ve lost people before, the only person I ever truly loved.
And I refuse to lose Isla.
“I’m not asking you to be okay with any of this,” I murmur, leaning down to brush my mouth over hers.
She trembles, torn between fire and fear. But she doesn’t pull away.
Brennan moves in, standing nearby. His strokes her arm, his touch steady and grounding.
She softens.
Just slightly.
It’s enough.
I capture her shoulders and guide her backward until the backs of her thighs bump the desk.
She glances behind her, breath hitching, then looks back at me—uncertain, but not unwilling.
I lift her easily, setting her on the cool surface, her legs dangling slightly, silk robe parting like an invitation she doesn’t yet know she’s extended. She shudders as my hands slide up her thighs, my mouth whispering against her skin.“Dorian.”It’s a protest as well as a plea.
She watches me with something wounded and wild in her eyes, but when I undo the silk belt at her waist and pull it free, she doesn’t resist.
Nor does she when I bind her wrists.
Or when I kiss her like I mean it.
And she doesn’t protest when Brennan captures her breast in his palm and squeezes with enough force to be distracting.
And she only gasps quietly when I part her thighs and brush aside her soaked panties to push a finger inside her with the kind of reverence usually reserved for prayer.
She leans back instinctively, her bound wrists bracing her upright on the desk.
My knot was secure, but not overly tight. I didn’t have to make it impossible to escape because she’s choosing to stay.
As we move together, her robe slips from one shoulder, sliding to her waist, exposing the curve of her breast. Brennan is sucking the tip, and I trail my knuckles between her ribs.
Then he releases her and moves behind her. He wraps his hands around her waist, holding her as I deepen my thrusts.
As always, he’s a quiet anchor to my storm as he promises, “I’ve got you.”
She leans back against him, her body trembling with something I recognize—fear, yes. But also anticipation. Trust, fragile but real, like glass warmed in fire.
I press a kiss to her thigh. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I don’t,” she says, voice thick.
“Say it.”
“I want this.”
