Page 54 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

Sophie

“Do you know what a safe word is?”

“A…” My stomach plummets as I meet Lucian’s eyes.

Thanks to the conversation with Piper and my sleepless nights, I’ve been reading through websites about real-life BDSM dynamics.

But that doesn’t mean I want to discuss any of it with him. With them. It makes it too real.

Streetlamps flash past in rhythmic gold, slicing across the tinted windows and painting fleeting shadows over Lucian’s face where he sits across from me in the back of the SUV.

As his deep-blue eyes lock onto mine, my stomach plummets.

Next to me, Caleb’s knee is pressed firmly against mine. The solid muscle of his thigh is equal parts reassurance and unmistakable threat.

His voice low and measured, each syllable deliberate, Lucian repeats his question. “Do you know what a safe word is?”

The question lands like a stone dropped into still water, and meaning ripples through me, making my lungs tighten.

I meet his eyes again. This time, a streetlamp catches the sharp line of his jaw.

Caleb shifts beside me, his knee sliding a fraction higher along mine.

“Sophie?”

Hating this, I curl my fingers into my thighs, my nails pressing half-moons I can feel but not see.

Curling my fingernails in more deeply, I meet his probing gaze. “Why does it matter?”

Then…

Oh God.

Are they planning to take me to their club?

Earlier, Lucian sent me a text telling me to eat a light dinner and to wear one of my shortest dresses.

And before I had a chance to respond, telling him that I didn’t want to go anywhere, he added that they were delighted I chose a wedding dress.

Of course Randy informed him.

And the dress was stupidly expensive.

When I found out the price, I asked for a different selection, but Randy informed me that it was under the budget that Lucian had set. Even though I added shoes, a veil, and Piper’s dress.

I was left wondering how much he was willing to spend.

He leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, the crisp white shirt stretching across his shoulders. The movement brings his scent—warm sandalwood and cold, calculating determination—all that much closer.

My cheeks burn, and I feel the flush spread downward.

The neckline of my dress suddenly feels too low, and the air-conditioning whispers over my heated skin.

After drawing a shaky breath, I admit the truth. “I’ve done some reading.”

Caleb’s mouth curves in the barest hint of satisfaction, the scar along his jaw tightening.

Lucian’s eyes warm fractionally, midnight-blue softening at the edges. “As we’d expect.”