Page 145 of The Christmas Trap

“A mark of my possession. A token of my love. A sign that you’re mine. And for the world to know it too.”

I cup her cheek.

“That is, if you’ll have it.”

Her features flush. Her pupils dilate. “Does this mean that you?—"

I nod once, deliberate. “I love you.”

Her throat works as she swallows. The silence stretches, weighted and breathless.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since we first met.” I pause, letting the words settle in my chest before I give them breath. “You undo me, wife.”

Her eyes snap to mine.

“With you, it’s not only about exchanging power. It’s about claiming your surrender. About winning your trust. Your devotion. I don't simply want to command you. I want to deserve you. To give you something that carries the weight of everything I feel. You’re the first woman I’ve wanted to claim, and I want the world to know that you’re mine.”

A sharp breath escapes her like it’s been punched from her lungs. “You… You love me?

“I thought that was obvious.” I step closer. “But let me make it very, very clear. You, Lark Davenport, are the only woman I’ve ever wanted to claim. The only woman I’ve wanted to mark. The only one I’ve wanted to marry.”

50

Lark

Don’t accidentally turn decorating the mantel into a project-management exercise.

—From Lark’s Christmas to-do list

How he destroys me. How his words cut me to the core and resonate with those deeper, darker, needy instincts inside of me. How he makes me feel wanted. And lusted after. And protected. And loved.

He loves me.

This strong, handsome, cold dominant, who vowed to never fall for anyone, just admitted that he loves me. My heart speeds up. My pulse hums. Every nerve ending in my body seems to fire at thesame time. I shiver.

“You love me,” I repeat the words aloud to make sure I heard them correctly.

His eyes narrow. The blue crackles with an iciness that burns. He’s dropped enough of that mask so I can see the surging emotions under the surface.

“I love you. I want you. I need you. I can’t live without you. You’re mine, Lark.”

The skin stretches across his cheekbones, lending a kind of depth to his expression I’ve never seen before.

"You’re mine to claim, mine to protect, mine to please. And now, the world will know it, too."

His words are both territorial and proprietary, and yet, also speak of something more delicate. Something affectionate. And fragile. They show his vulnerability in a way I’ve never felt before.

By wearing his ring, I was his wife. But by wearing this chain, I feel closer to him.

It’s a sign of the emotions that he’s kept in check all his life… The emotions he’s unleashed for me.

It makes me feel like I'm his. In every way. My heart stutters. My pulse rate spikes. Every cell in my body seems to fill with a burst of elation.

I’m his.

He’s mine.

Truly mine.