Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
She rolls her eyes. “Knox doesn’t have an effect on me.”
“He should have known better than to ask you to work for him.”
Her chin lifts and her eyes sharpen. “Oh? And why is that?”
“Because he knows you belong to me.”
The words land between us with the weight of a confession.
Lilah’s lips part and her brows lift as her eyes search mine, like she’s trying to read between every line.
“I thought,” she begins, “this was just a friends-with-benefits thing.”
I lean in, lowering my voice so it’s just for her. “It is.” There’s a beat of silence, thick enough to choke on. “Which is exactly why,” I add, gaze locked on hers, “we should’ve established another rule. No one else touches that pussy but me.”
It’s satisfying to watch the way her breath catches as color rushes to her cheeks.
“You may have touched me…” She licks her lips. “But you haven’t fucked me.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My pulse spikes and my cock stirs to life, and it takes everything I have not to flinch.
Instead, I hold her gaze, pretending like I’m not being burned alive inside.
“Is that what you want, lucky charm?” My voice dips, turning low and dangerous. “To be fucked?”
She gives me a small and hesitant nod.
Before I can respond, the waiter appears. “Are you ready to order?”
Lilah jolts like she forgot we were in public. “We’re not staying—”
“Actually,” I cut in, “we are. And we’d like to order lunch.”
She snaps her head toward me. “We would?”
I smirk. “Absolutely. You came here with Knox because you were hungry. And now I’m going to feed you.”
She pouts. It’s an honest-to-God, full-lipped, bratty little pout. And my restraint nearly shatters. I want to lean across the table and kiss her senseless. I want to pull her into my lap and make her squirm until she begs me to take her home.
Instead, I lift my gaze to the waiter. “Two steaks. Both medium rare. She’ll have an espresso martini and I’ll take a lager.”
He jots it down and leaves. The moment he’s gone, Lilah leans forward, eyes wide, voice low. “I thought you were going to… you know.”
I raise a brow. “Fuck you?”
Her cheeks flame as she nods. It makes her look so damn sweet. And completely fuckable.
I lean in again. “Oh, I have every intention of fucking you, Lilah.”
Her breath stutters.
“But first,” I say, fingers trailing along the edge of the table, “I’m going to bend you over my lap and spank that perfect ass until it’s cherry red.”
She gasps as her brows rise. Her reaction is everything. The need in her eyes is written in bold neon.
“I think we both know there are things I don’t mind sharing with my teammates,” I continue in a warning growl. “But you’re not one of them. You’re mine. Remember that next time another man asks you out to lunch. No matter what the reason is.”
She shifts in her seat, probably wondering whether I’m making a threat or a promise.
Spoiler alert. It’s both.
“And after I’ve reminded you exactly who you belong to,” I say, letting every word sink in, “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t remember the name of any guy who’s ever looked at you.”
Lilah’s lips part on a shaky exhale. Her pupils are blown and her expression dazed. She’s spiraling, and I’m right there with her.
“Is there anything you’d like to say about that?” I ask.
She swallows hard. “No.”
“Good.” I lean back in satisfaction before flashing her a cocky grin. “Now, I want you to make sure you eat all your lunch, lucky charm.”
“Why?”
I smirk. “Because you’re going to need every ounce of energy you’ve got for this afternoon.”
And by the time I’m done with her, there won’t be a question in her mind as to who she belongs to.
33
LILAH
Ican’t stop shifting in my seat as we drive back to the penthouse. The leather is cool beneath me, but I’m burning from the inside out. And not just from the unseasonable heat beating through the windshield. This is something else. A pressure. A buzz. A low, coiling thrum of need I’ve never experienced before.
Steele’s hand rests on my knee.
Simple.
Still.
And yet it’s the most distracting thing in the world.
Every part of me is focused on the spot where his fingers grip my leg through the denim. His thumb strokes tiny, absent circles, each one sending a tremor through my core. I find myself inching closer to the center console, silently encouraging his hand to slide higher.
Just a little.
I want more.
A lot more.
I want him to stroke me through the fabric and show me exactly how serious he was back at the restaurant.
Because right now?
I’m wound so tight I feel like I could snap.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and something constricts low in my belly. His jaw is locked, his profile cut from granite as he focuses on the road stretched out in front of him. He hasn’t said a word since we left the restaurant, but his silence speaks volumes. His dominance hangs in the air, heavy as the tension between us.