Page 41 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

It suits him in a way that makes my chest tighten. He guides me toward the windows, stepping close behind me until the hard length of his cock presses against my rear through our clothes.

He slides his hands around to cup my breasts, brushing his thumbs over my nipples through layers of fabric.

I consider trying to escape, but I’m scared that if I move, I will only lean into him instead.

“I like it when you please me,” he murmurs against my ear, breath hot, voice velvet gravel.

I swallow hard, the sound loud in my own head.

This feels naughty and dangerous, broad daylight pouring through the glass even if we are so high up no one could possibly see. The tinting helps, but still—why am I shocked that this man believes he rules the world and me?

He strokes his palms downward, over my ribcage, across the slight swell of my stomach, then lower, grazing between my legs with deliberate pressure.

Against my own better judgment I tilt my hips forward, inviting the touch, and his low sound of triumph vibrates through my back.

In an instant, he’s proved his mastery all over again.

I hate it. Despise how easily my body responds, how wet I already am just from the reminder and the feel of him hard against me.

“Am I interrupting something?” Caleb’s voice cuts through the haze, rough and amused, and the sound jolts me back to reality.

This time I do twist, using every ounce of strength to pull free of Lucian’s grip. Deep down, something scoffs—there is no real escape if he does not allow it—but the movement still creates space, enough for me to catch my breath.

“Not at all,” Lucian answers, completely unbothered, adjusting his jacket with casual elegance.

I am flushed, heart hammering, words tumbling out before I can stop them. “What is the relationship between the two of you, anyway?”

Lucian’s gaze holds mine, steady and certain. “I meant it all those years ago when I said you will be ours.”

“I can’t belong to both of you.”

“Oh you can.” His voice drops, intimate and absolute. “And you will.”

Caleb’s phone buzzes again. “The wedding planner, Mrs. Henderson, has arrived.”

They make my head spin. From a full-on sensual assault to business in the blink of an eye.

A little numb, I am escorted to the conference room with its long sleek table and impossible view of the city.

Caleb does not stay, excusing himself with a quiet word about an overseas call that leaves the door clicking softly behind him. The assistant—Dara—enters moments later, carrying a tray.

She sets down coffees, and one is a mocha, perfectly prepared with just the right swirl of chocolate on top. I glance at Lucian, eyebrows lifting in silent question. He shrugs, the motion elegant. “Dara called Elena.”

The simple gesture lands like a stone in still water, ripples spreading through my chest. These two men will get under my skin if I allow them to wear down my defenses, but the mocha is amazing: warm, rich, comforting in a way that feels dangerously like care.

Mrs. Henderson enters, her tablet already open and waiting.

“Shall we?” Lucian suggests, taking his place at the head of the table as expected, placing me on his right, Dara on his left, the wedding planner sitting beside me.

The venue comes first. Mrs. Henderson recommends the Sterling Downtown rooftop atrium.

She pulls up photos on her screen—lush greenery spilling over elegant edges, stunning city views that stretch forever, the kind of space that would have made my younger self breathless with fairy-tale hope.

When Lucian agrees, she offers to call and confirm availability.

He shakes his head and picks up his phone. “I’ll handle it.”

Moments later, he’s connected with Rafe Sterling, speaking with the quiet authority of a man who expects doors to open. We all blink as he locks in the details.