Page 18 of Bought (BOUGHT TRILOGY #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lucian

I want to strip away every wall she’s built. I want to touch every inch of her body until she forgets who she was before me. I want her to feel it all, fear, pleasure, surrender.

And I want it all now.

I’ve pushed this game far enough. The teasing. The distance. We’ll be forever connected in this way, and there will be no more space between us to pretend this was simple or forgettable.

"Listen, Lucian—" she says, hand on my chest, like she’s about to confess something serious.

I don’t let her finish.

“Want to come back to mine for a bit before dinner?”

Her brows arch. “That was your serious question?”

“Better than a UFO sighting.” I flash her a grin.

Her lips curve despite her nerves. “Ah. I see. Payback.”

“I’ll have a car pick everyone up at your place later.” I leave no room for argument. “Let’s go.”

She hesitates. “What about Cass’s chair?”

“The family has a van with a lift.”

“Of course it does.”

I smirk. “The Bachmans have their fair share of accidents.”

“Accidents.” Doubts linger as she looks away. “Maybe we should go back.”

I’ve said the wrong thing.

I pull her flush against me and kiss her. Her mouth parts immediately. She melts into me, soft, sweet, and needy. My body responds like I’ve been starving. And maybe I have been hungry for more.

For her. I need her. Now.

Her hips move against mine, a naughty little grind that’s a silent plea. The way I’m kissing her gives her a glimpse of what’s to come, and she wants this as much as I do.

I break the kiss and whisper, “What do you say?”

“Okay.”

We don’t talk on the ride. Not about what we both know is coming.

She’s silent beside me, hands clutching a shopping bag like it’s a lifeline. Her thoughts are loud. I can see it in her posture, the way her shoulders are locked, the way her eyes flick nervously toward me.

No more pretending that this thing between us is forgettable or straightforward.

It’s only moments later and we’re walking hand in hand toward my apartment. I feel her trembling beside me, feel her anticipation radiating through her skin. She’s holding that little shopping bag like it’s a lifeline, knuckles white with nerves.

Her silence is loud. Her mind is spinning.

I want to tell her to take a deep breath. But I don’t. I like her nervous. I like that I’m the one breaking through her innocence.

She’s about to be mine. I’ll be the first man to feel her, to be inside her, to know her body like no one man has. The security doors feel endless. I hate how they delay me from getting her alone.

Every second I’m not touching her feels like I’m preparing for war.

She tosses me a cautious glance.

“You okay?” I ask.

“You’ve done this a million times.” She lightens her comment with a joke, “Even with professionals. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

She has no idea. No one has ever gotten under my skin like this.

I bring her hand to my lips, kissing her fingers. “I’ll take care of you.”

We step inside.

She’s been here before but this time, it’s different. The moment she crosses the threshold, the energy shifts. I don’t give her time to second-guess. I place the bags down. She sets hers on the table.

She’s waiting. Unsure. Teetering between flight and surrender.

I close the distance.

My fingers tilt her chin up. Her skin is warm, flushed. She’s shaking.

“You’re trembling,” I say, edged with hunger.

She tries to laugh. “Maybe I should be.”

“Maybe you should.” I lean in, not to reassure but to claim. “Or maybe you already know that you’re safe with me.”

Her breath catches.

I don’t give her time to respond.

I kiss her. Deeply. Slowly. Holding her.

She clutches at my shirt, those delicate fingers fisting the fabric. Her knees buckle, and I tighten my grip.

When I pull back, I keep my lips brushing hers. “You’re mine tonight. Every inch.”

Something shifts in her. That wall she keeps between us? Crumbles.

She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t run. I take it as her consent to carry her off to my bed to be ravished head to toe. She gasps as her arms wrap around my neck. I carry her to the room and shut the door behind us. The world vanishes.

When I break the kiss, I press my forehead to hers.

“I’ll go slow,” I rasp. “But make no mistake, Erin. You’re mine tonight. All of you.”

I lay her down gently, but my hands stay on her. They trace her curves, her ribs, her thighs. I memorize her through touch. “You’re perfect,” I brush my thumb along her bottom lip. “And trembling, but your eyes are begging me.”

“I’m not—” she starts.

Her words crumble the second I kiss her again, my mouth devouring her soft protest. I taste her hesitation. I taste her need.

And I don’t stop.

I trail my lips down her jaw, her throat, biting softly at the base of her neck.

She arches. Her breath stutters.

“You like it when I take control,” I whisper against her skin. “Don’t you?”

Her body answers with the truth, her hips rising, her thighs parting, and a quiet, desperate moan slipping free from her lips.

That sound breaks me.

“Good girl,” I groan, slipping my hands under the shirt I bought her hours ago, sliding up, taking my time. “You’re all mine.”

She gasps as I push the shirt higher, exposing smooth skin. Her back arches as I undress her, as if her body’s trying to meet my hands before I’ve even touched her where she really wants me.

Her nipples are hard. Her breath is shallow. She’s staring up at me with wide, innocent eyes.

I press her into the bed and cover her body with mine.

No more waiting.

No more pretending.

This marks the beginning of something she doesn’t yet fully understand.

But I do.

She’s not just mine for tonight.

She’s mine. Period.

And right now, I’m going to take what belongs to me.