Page 30

THIRTY

Claimed

Vivianne

Before I can respond, the world narrows to the heat radiating from Paul’s body and the wild thrum of my pulse. Everything else fades—the darkened hallway, the locked door behind us, even the mystery of The Lovers .

All that exists is him; his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

His hand cups my cheek, gentle but firm, as if he’s both claiming me and giving me a choice. The air between us thickens, charged with something dangerous, something inevitable.

He closes the last bit of distance between us. His hand slides from my cheek to the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. Electricity shoots down my spine at his touch. My skin tingles, warmth spreading through my body.

Time seems to slow as he leans in, his gaze darkening with unmistakable desire.

Part of me screams to ask more about The Lovers , about the guard, about everything. But a primal part craves his touch. I’m done resisting. Done fighting this pull between us.

“No more talking,” Paul commands, his eyes dark with desire.

A soft gasp trembles past my lips. The memory of our previous kiss floods my senses, sending a shiver down my spine. “Paul, I?—”

“Shh,” he whispers, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “Let me show you what I want.”

The first brush of his lips against mine is deceptively soft and sends shock waves through my body. Restrained power radiates from him, promising so much more. It’s not so much a question as it is a declaration of intent. My eyes flutter closed as I lean into him, surrendering to the moment.

Paul’s control snaps. His lips capture mine in a searing kiss, passionate and demanding. A gasp escapes me, and he takes full advantage, deepening the kiss. His tongue traces the seam of my lips before tangling with mine in a sensual dance that leaves me breathless.

Heat blooms in my chest, spreading through my body like wildfire. My hands, pressed against the wall, now move of their own accord. One grips his shoulder, the other slips up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

Paul responds by pressing me more firmly against the wall, his body a solid, warm presence against mine.

He reaches down, grasping my wrist, and lifts my arm above my head, pinning it to the wall. He does the same with my other hand, effectively trapping me. But I don’t want to escape. I want to drown in this feeling.

With both my hands secured, Paul takes complete control of the kiss. He tastes of espresso and danger—an intoxicating combination.

The kiss is a revelation, a confession, a promise all rolled into one. It speaks of passion barely restrained, of desires long held in check. It whispers of secrets and danger, of art and beauty. Paul’s dominance is clear in every movement and every touch, and I yield to it willingly.

When we finally part, both of us are breathing heavily. Paul doesn’t move away; instead, he trails kisses along my jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I shiver, my body arching into his.

“Paul,” I breathe, barely recognizing my own voice.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they meet mine. The depths swirl with emotion—want, certainly, but also something hard and demanding. His thumb traces my cheekbone in a gentle caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice husky and demanding. “Say it.”

For a heartbeat, Prescott’s face flashes in my mind. My fiancé. The man I’m supposed to marry. But in this moment, with Paul’s intense gaze locked on mine, Prescott feels like a distant memory, a pale shadow compared to the vivid, passionate present.

Prescott will never have this part of me. He’ll never ignite this fire in my veins or make me feel so alive and desired. What Paul and I have might be fleeting, might be wrong, but it’s real.

It’s raw.

It’s everything I’ve ever craved but never knew I needed.

I can’t have this forever.

The weight of my family name, my obligations, and my arranged future loom on the horizon. But right now, I can have this moment. I can be truly and genuinely myself.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, the words slipping out, heavy with truth and desire. For now, for this stolen time, I am his. “Completely, utterly yours.”

The world shifts beneath my feet, solid ground disappearing. As Paul’s lips claim mine once more, I don’t care. I’m exactly where I want to be.

Paul releases my hands, his eyes dark with primal hunger. “Music to my ears, ma chère ,” he growls, his voice deep and gravelly.

Before I can react, his strong hands grasp my hips, lifting me off my feet effortlessly. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms encircling his neck. The hard evidence of his arousal presses against me, igniting a spark of excitement that races through my body. Heat pools low in my belly, a delicious ache building where our bodies connect.

“I’m going to claim every inch of you,” he murmurs against my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “By the time I’m done, you’ll forget your own name, but you’ll remember who you belong to.”

His words ignite a fire in my core, a desperate need I’ve never felt before. I cling to him tighter, my body molding against his, silently begging for more. My hips instinctively rock against him, seeking friction, seeking relief from the building tension. A soft moan escapes my lips, muffled against his neck.

“Hold on,” he murmurs against my lips, a hint of a smile in his voice.

Without breaking the kiss, Paul turns, carrying me away from the wall. I hear the soft click of a lock disengaging, and then we’re moving through the doorway into the cave.

The cool, damp air of the cave raises goose bumps on my skin, a stark contrast to the heat of Paul’s body against mine. As we move deeper into the space, I catch glimpses of priceless artworks in my peripheral vision, but my focus remains on Paul.

He navigates the cave with practiced ease, lowering me gently onto a soft surface.

A bed.

I briefly wonder why there’s a bed in this secret art vault, but the thought vanishes as Paul moves with predatory grace. He places his knee between my knees at the foot of the bed.

The mattress dips under his weight as he leans forward, his hands coming to rest on either side of my hips.

Paul’s face hovers close to mine, his breath warm on my skin. He nuzzles my cheek, his stubble grazing my sensitive skin and sending shivers down my spine.

Slowly, deliberately, he begins to press forward.

His body becomes an irresistible force, urging me back. I yield to his silent command, leaning back on my elbows. Paul continues his advance, his chest nearly touching mine. The heat radiating from his body is intoxicating.

Inch by inch, he guides me down. My back meets the soft surface of the bed, Paul’s body following, maintaining our closeness. Finally, I’m lying flat, Paul looming over me, his eyes dark with desire.

The weight of his body, the warmth of his skin so close to mine, leaves me breathless. In this moment, pinned beneath his gaze and his form, I feel completely and utterly his.

He leans down, capturing my lips in a passionate but languid kiss—as if he has all the time in the world—before trailing his mouth to the corner of my jaw, then my ear, down my neck, and to my shoulder.

Each touch sends shivers through me.

Paul stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. A confident smirk plays on his lips as he grasps the hem of his shirt. He pauses for a moment, letting the anticipation build.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifts the fabric. The movement reveals a glimpse of toned abs, then the defined muscles of his stomach. As the shirt rises, it exposes his broad chest and strong shoulders.

He pulls the garment over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside. The dim light of the cave casts shadows that accentuate every curve and plane of his torso.

I can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sight before me. Paul’s body is a work of art—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, well-defined muscles rippling beneath tanned skin. My eyes trace the contours of his chest, down to the washboard abs that disappear into his waistband.

I ache to touch him.

To be touched by him.

Paul stands there momentarily, allowing me to take in the view. His chest rises and falls with each breath, the movement hypnotic. A faint scar traces across his left ribs, adding character to his sculpted form.

His confidence is palpable, radiating from him in waves. He knows the effect he has on me, and he’s clearly enjoying it. Then, slowly, his hands move to his belt, slowly unfastening it.

A thin breath tangles in my throat, sharp and unsteady. With practiced ease, he toes off his shoes, kicking them aside. His eyes never leave mine as his fingers work at the fastenings of his trousers.

The soft rasp of his zipper seems impossibly loud in the quiet cave. Paul hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband, slowly pushing the fabric down his muscular thighs. He steps out of the trousers, now clad only in fitted black boxers that leave little to the imagination.

For a moment, he stands there, allowing me to take in the sight of him. Then, with fluid grace, he moves back to the bed. The mattress dips as he places one knee on the edge, then the other.

Paul crawls up the length of my body, his movements slow and deliberate. The heat of him hovers just above me, tantalizing in its proximity. His eyes, dark with desire, hold mine captive as he positions himself over me.

His weight settles onto me gradually, a delicious pressure that sends sparks of desire coursing through my body.

The feeling of his skin against mine, separated only by the thin fabric of my clothes and his boxers, is electrifying. Every point of contact between us feels charged, alive with possibility.

Paul’s eyes meet mine, his gaze intense and severe.

“Vivianne,” he says softly, cupping my face with one hand. “Last chance. If we continue, there’s no going back. Are you certain this is what you want?”

I take a deep breath, considering the weight of his words. My mind races through the implications—my engagement, my family, my career. But in this moment, looking into Paul’s eyes, I know what I truly want.

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. “I’m certain.”

Paul searches my face, as if ensuring my sincerity. Then he nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Then you’re mine, in every way that matters.”

His words send a thrill through me—a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I understand the gravity of what I’m agreeing to, but I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now.

Paul leans in, his lips brushing my ear as he murmurs, “And I’m yours.”

With those words, he seals our pact, and I surrender myself to the moment, to Paul, and to whatever may come.

In this hidden sanctuary, surrounded by centuries of beauty captured on canvas, Paul and I create our own masterpiece. The world outside fades away, leaving only us, this moment, and the promise of what’s to come.

Paul’s lips find mine again, but this time, there’s no urgency, only a deep, languid exploration that leaves me breathless and craving more. He trails kisses down my neck, his hands sliding up my sides, taking the fabric of my dress with them. I lift my arms, allowing him to pull the dress over my head, leaving me in my bra and panties.

He leans back, his eyes roaming over my body with an intensity that makes me shiver. “You’re exquisite, Vivianne,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. His fingers trace the lace edge of my bra, sending sparks of pleasure across my skin.

I reach out, my hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, tracing the ridges of his muscles. He captures my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. His other hand trails down my body, his fingers circling my nipple through the thin fabric of my bra. I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips.

Paul’s mouth follows the path of his hand, kissing every inch of my skin as if it were sacred ground. He unclasps my bra, freeing my breasts, and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. I gasp, my body writhing beneath him as waves of pleasure course through me.

He releases my wrists, his hands moving to my hips, gripping them possessively. His mouth moves lower, trailing kisses down my stomach, dipping his tongue into my navel. I shiver, my hands gripping his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.

His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, slowly pulling them down. I lift my hips, helping him to remove the last barrier between us. He tosses them aside, his eyes locked onto mine as he spreads my legs, positioning himself between them.

Paul’s fingers trace the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, sending shivers of anticipation through me. He leans down, his breath hot against my core. I can feel his lips, soft and gentle, pressing against me, his tongue exploring, tasting, teasing.

I cry out, my body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over me. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he continues his sensual assault. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my body trembling as he brings me closer and closer to the edge.

Just as I’m about to tumble over, he pulls back, his eyes dark with desire. He reaches for his discarded trousers, retrieving a condom from his wallet. I watch, my heart pounding, as he tears open the packet and rolls the condom onto his length.

He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes locked onto mine. “You’re mine, Vivianne,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Now and forever.”

With one smooth thrust, he enters me, filling me completely. I gasp, my body stretching to accommodate him. He stills, giving me a moment to adjust, his eyes never leaving mine.

Then, he begins to move, slowly at first, each thrust deliberate and powerful. I match his rhythm, my hips rising to meet his, our bodies moving in perfect sync. His hands roam over my body, touching, caressing, claiming.

The sensation is overwhelming, a dance of pleasure and passion that consumes us both. I can feel the tension building, the delicious ache growing with each thrust. Paul’s lips find mine, his kiss matching the intensity of our lovemaking.

He reaches between us, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. He circles it gently, his touch sending me spiraling toward the edge. My body tenses, every muscle coiling in anticipation.

“Paul,” I gasp, my voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m going to…”

“Come for me, Vivianne,” he growls, his voice thick with desire. “Let me feel you come undone.”

With a final thrust, he sends me tumbling over the edge. My body convulses, waves of pleasure crashing over me, leaving me breathless and shaking. He continues to move, his body tensing as he chases his own release.

With a low groan, he finds it, his body shuddering as he collapses on top of me. We lie there, our bodies entwined, our hearts pounding in sync. I can feel his breath, hot and heavy against my neck, his body still joined with mine.

As we come down from the high, a sense of profound connection washes over me. This wasn’t just sex; it was a merging of souls, a promise of something deeper and more meaningful. In this moment, wrapped in Paul’s arms, I feel truly and completely alive.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. A soft smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice filled with wonder and awe.

I smile back, my heart swelling with emotion. “We’re incredible,” I correct him, my voice soft but steady.