Page 38 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

We have her exactly where we want her.

“Thank you for wearing the dress. It’s a perfect fit. And you couldn’t look more beautiful.”

She struggles, fury sparking in her eyes, hips twisting against Caleb’s hold. The movement presses her ass into the hard ridge of his cock, and his low groan vibrates through all three of us.

I lean in until my mouth hovers a breath from hers. “As Caleb said, don’t make a scene. Unless you want to be caught in a compromising position? Might not be good for your reputation as a respectable behavioral finance expert. And you might embarrass your family.” My lips brush hers with the words.

“You don’t care about your reputation?”

“Ours is more…flexible.”

Her breath quickens, chest rising more quickly.

I close the last inch and kiss her—deep, claiming, pouring every day of waiting into the stroke of my tongue.

She tastes of wine and resistance. But underneath it? Is there a hint of interest?

Or maybe that’s wishful thinking.

Like last night, she curls her hands into my shirt, pushing and pulling at the same time, a perfect brat’s contradiction that makes my cock throb painfully against my zipper.

Caleb’s hands slide up to slip inside the bodice of the dress with practiced care, preserving her modesty from any stray glance while his palms cup her breasts.

His thumbs circle her nipples slowly, gently, and her moan vibrates into my mouth.

“Do you like that, Sophie?” I murmur against her lips. “Do you like having your nipples stroked so gently while the whole restaurant sits just beyond that curtain?”

“No.” She tries to shake her head, but there’s no energy in it.

“Not at all?” But her knees are a little wobbly.

Caleb touch is firmer now, and her knees weaken. I feel the shift in her weight as she leans harder against him.

“How about having them rolled?” He does exactly that, slow and deliberate, and her breath hitches into a soft pant. “Maybe tugged on?”

He tugs—sharp little pulls that make her arch.

Her head falls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering half closed. The sight of her—flushed, lips parted, body trembling between us—nearly undoes me.

“Or maybe squeezed hard?” My voice is a hoarse rasp.

“No.” Her protest is barely a whisper.

“Your body says otherwise.”

Caleb tightens his grip, and she moans loud enough that I capture the sound with my mouth, swallowing it down while my own cock strains, leaking against the fabric of my trousers.

I know Caleb’s dick is rock-hard, pressed tight between the cheeks of her ass through the silk, rocking subtly against her with every shift of her hips.

With my free hand, I lift the hem of her dress and touch the delicate lace of her panties.

She’s going to be our wife, and she needs to come to terms with everything that means. Her body and its glorious responses belong to us.

I pause for a fraction of a second, but she makes no attempt to stop me.

Smiling with triumph, I keep my gaze locked on her beautiful face as I slide my finger beneath the gusset.

My perfect little future wife is damp, and her folds part easily around my fingers.