Page 44 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

When he finally pulls back, I am shaking and my lips tingle.

He strokes my lower lip with his thumb, the pad slightly rough, eyes dark with intent. “One day soon, I promise I won’t stop there.”

Scaring the hell out of me, I’m afraid I won’t want to stop him.

Looking away, I begin to straighten my dress with trembling fingers.

But he sweeps them aside, smoothing the fabric over my hips where heat from his hand still lingers.

His touch is careful, almost tender, as he adjusts the neckline and brushes a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Shall we?”

Without waiting for my response, he grabs my clutch from the side table and opens the door.

In the back of the SUV, it is just the two of us, the city lights sliding across his face in streaks of gold and shadow. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going? Or keep me guessing?”

Caleb settles a hand on my knee. With his thumb, he traces a slow circle that sends sparks racing up my leg. “We’re dining in tonight.”

“Dining in?” I frown. “At your place?”

It occurs to me then that I know almost nothing about the way they really live.

I’ve spent so much time reeling from how they turned my life upside down that I haven’t considered how much theirs has changed too.

Minutes later, we’re parked in front of a private elevator that whisks us to a penthouse.

Lucian is waiting in the foyer, devastating in a charcoal shirt open at the throat, midnight-blue eyes lighting with approval as they sweep over me.

Their space is uninviting, decorated in sleek, masculine luxury. Leather sofas are arranged in precise angles, while floor-to-ceiling glass seems to frame the glittering Houston skyline like living art.

Everything feels controlled. Like them.

“Welcome home,”

I shake my head. There’s no way I can imagine ever calling this cold place home, even though something smells amazing.

Lucian comes in closer to press a kiss against my temple, and I pull back.

Annoyance flashes through his eyes, but he quickly forces it away.

I place my purse on a table near the door so it’s ready when I can make my escape. Then I follow him into the living room while Caleb secures the entry behind us.

A woman in a crisp chef’s jacket appears from the kitchen, smiling professionally.

They have a private chef? Why shouldn’t that surprise me?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Her white jacket reads Chef Amélie. “Dinner will be ready shortly—seared duck with cherry reduction, if that suits.”

“Sounds amazing. Thank you.”

“Let us show you around.”

The office comes first, and it’s a full-on command center of technology and more dark wood. A bank of monitors lines one wall—live feeds of my own office, their offices, the parking garage downstairs, even discreet angles inside this residence.

Lucian stands close behind me again, and the memory of his touch in his offices makes my breath catch.

Next is what he describes as the primary bedroom.

A massive bed is dressed in crisp white linens and deep charcoal accents.