Page 116 of His Eternal Claim

I pout. “Please, Zagreus. It’s important.”

“Because,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping down the length of his own white shirt hanging loosely off my shoulders, the hem barely covering the tops of my thighs. His eyes darken. “I am absolutely not taking you outside onto a public beach dressed like that, no matter how breathtakingly beautiful you look in my clothes. I am a possessive bastard, Mrs. Vitale. I don’t share.”

“We don’t have to go to a beach!” I argue, a giggle escapes. “We can take it right here in the penthouse. On the rug, or by the terrace. We can use cushions instead of sand. Come on, please? We need it for the future. For the next album.”

Zagreus stares at me for a long beat. I flutter my lashes and almost high-five myself when he lets out a defeated sigh, carries me to the couch where he threw his phone, and presses it into my hand.

“Take however many you want.” His lips brush against my forehead. “You have my full cooperation. But you’re going to have to work for it.”

“Yes!”

I cheer, instantly sliding down his body until my feet touch the floor. I grab his massive hand, planting my feet and tugging with all my might. “Come on! Let’s go to the bedroom.”

I pull, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall. Zagreus doesn’t budge an inch. He stands solid with a damn wicked smirk spreading across his lips as he watches me struggle.

“Zagreus!”

I complain, puffing my hair out of my face. “You’re too heavy. Move!”

“I don’t move unless I want to, Mrs. Vitale,” he teases, crossing his bare arms over his chest, leaning his weight back slightly. “And right now, I need an incentive. You want my time? You have to pay for it.”

I roll my eyes, placing my hands on my hips. “You already have everything, Mr. Vitale. What could you possibly want from me right now?”

Zagreus leans down, his hot breath fanning against my lips as his eyes flare.

“I want you to promise me that the second you’re done playing photographer,” he whispers, his hand sliding down to cup the back of my thigh, squeezing, “you’ll get back on your knees on that rug, pull this shirt down past your shoulders, and let me use that sweet mouth of yours.”

Heat bolts straight to my core. My cheeks turn red, and I smack his chest, mortified but breathless. “You are a pervert!”

Zagreus chuckles, finally letting me drag him toward the bedroom. “I told you, Dolcezza. I write the laws.”

***

I yank on his hand as I manage to drag him across the master bedroom. Zagreus lets out another chuckle, willing to let himself be moved now that he’s extracted his wicked little promise from me.

The bedroom is washed in the soft, fading gold of the early evening sun. The balcony doors are ajar, letting a cool, lazy breeze drift inside, making the sheer white curtains sway and billow into the room.

“Alright, lawbreaker,” Zagreus murmurs, leaning his tall, bare-chested frame against the wall near the window, crossing his arms over his chest as those stormy grey eyes track my every move. “Show me how we’re supposed to recreate a beach scene inside an apartment.”

“First, we need to set the mood,” I giggle.

I grab his phone, unlocking it with the passcode I know by heart, glad he hasn’t changed it, and swipe through to find a song. A second later, my old favorite track fills the room.

“Music?”

Zagreus tilts his head.

“Of course, music,” I insist, stepping back and raising the phone camera. I look at him through the screen, my heart skipping a beat. He looks too handsome standing there, the golden light catching his dark hair. I click the picture once.

He’s photogenic despite the look on his face. “Now, look at me. Don’t look away from the lens.”

Zagreus’s brow furrows slightly, his eyes narrowing as he realizes I’m not setting up a timer for a joint photo. “This wasn’t the deal. You said we were recreating the sandcastle picture.”

“Well, I lied,” I laugh, dodging to the side as I snap another picture of him frowning, the curtains billowing out behind him along with a fresh breeze. “The deal has officially changed, Mr. Vitale. I looked through all six of those albums, and do you know what I noticed? There are barely any pictures of you. It’s all me. I’m taking pictures of you today so we can actually fill the next album together.”

“I don’t like cameras, Dolcezza,” he growls softly, though there’s no real anger in his voice. He takes a step away from the wall. “And I definitely don’t like being lied to by my wife.”

“You’ll survive!”