Page 36 of Claim

I leaned back against the door and narrowed my gaze. “Don’t think you have any possession over me, Sophia. I come and go as I please.”

A cool, expressionless Morelli mask fell over her face. The one I’d seen Lucian don countless times, hiding everything from hurt to rage. However, she hadn’t mastered it like her brother because the fire in her onyx eyes showed the sting of my words.

“Good to know where I stand.” She stalked toward me. “Mind getting out of my way? I want to go home.”

She waited without looking up at me. This was my chance to let her leave, end it, and not look back. The last thing she needed was to end up tangled in the web of troubles cocooning my life.

Before I realized I had spoken, I found myself saying, “I do mind. You wanted this. Now you get what I give you.”

“The hell I will. You may have fucked my face in the corner of a public playroom, but I’m not someone you can toss aside when you need distance.” Her lips trembled for the briefest of seconds before she reined in her emotions.

This woman was a walking contradiction. Confident, yet so unsure of herself at the same time. A fucking weakness for a person like me.

“What makes you think I had plans to toss you aside?” I shifted from my relaxed stance against the door and grabbed her waist.

Her breath hitched. “The way you’re acting. You don’t want me to be yours. I’m going to make it easy for you. I don’t want to be yours.”

Until her, I’d never liked mouthiness in a submissive. I enjoyed my women compliant, those who wanted to serve and follow directions. Sophia had this way about her that edged the line between respect and disrespect, something I’d bet she learned to do based on her role in her family.

“It’s too late for that.” I walked her backward. “I claimed you. There is no going back now.”

Before she could push out of my hold, we reached a couch, and I tugged her to straddle my lap as I sat.

“Let me go, Damon, or the wrath you’ll face from Lucian will be unlike anything you’ve ever seen in your life.”

I cupped her throat, drawing her face closer to mine. “Do I need to remind you that I have no fear of your brother?”

Anger radiated out from her flushed face.

She appeared so damn young more than the ten years that separated us. I wasn’t ancient by any means at thirty-five, but her innocence made me feel as if I were decades older.

Maybe the vulnerability and purity she hid so deeply inside her drew me to her. I’d broken every decision I’d cemented over the last few years without much resistance. Now walking away wasn’t an option.

“I don’t understand you, Damon.”

Instead of responding to her, I brought her head down against my shoulder, and we remained silent for a few minutes.

The pulse of her upset still lay heavy between us, but there was no helping it. She had no clue as to what she’d gotten herself into with me. Her life wouldn’t be the same. People talked, and the rumors about me would reach the right or wrong ears.

“Answer this question for me,” I broke the silence. “Why do you play the family troublemaker?”

She pushed up to stare at my face and shrugged. “I guess because that’s what everyone expects of me.”

“I’ve done my research on you.”

A blush crept up her cheeks, but she held my gaze, trying hard to hide her embarrassment. “What did you learn about my dark past and naughty present?”

“You like to lie about who you are. You’re a complete fraud.”

A crease formed between her brows. “I don’t lie. I am all of those things people say about me. I am the party girl, the Morelli wild child. I walk the runways of fashion shows and attend all the social events written about in all the tabloids. Drugs, alcohol, sex. It’s always around me.”

She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her words as she added the last part.

“And yet.” I tugged her forward, grazing my teeth against her neck. “I’m the only man who’s ever fucked you, put his mouth on your cunt, or made you come. Why?”

Her breath grew unsteady. “Because I’m selective.”

“Selective, is it?” I massaged the toned muscles of her back. “It’s so much more than that. You play into the image for a reason. How much of your life is fiction, and how much is true?”

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