Page 114 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim

“No,” Isla says sweetly. “But I think you should live up to your reputation as a kingmaker rather than making excuses for your poor performance in advance.”

Celeste clears her throat and hides a smile behind her teacup.

I squeeze Isla’s hand beneath the table, slow and firm. My chest aches—with pride, with disbelief. I married her to fix a problem. I didn’t expect to admire the hell out of her. Didn’t expect toneedher in this.

She’s not just mine. She’s a damn revelation.

Celeste leans back, clearly satisfied. “We’ll move forward, then, shall we? Dorian, I’ll be in contact. We’ll need to begin work as soon as you’re back in Houston.”

“Tomorrow.” I stand and offer my hand to Isla as everyone at the table also rises.

As regal as a princess, she shakes Celeste’s hand. To Everett she says, “Show us you’re the Kingmaker.”

As we walk away from the table, I hear Everett mutter, low and stunned, “Well…fuck.”

Celeste’s answering laugh is light, musical, and absolutely lethal.

Just like my wife.

In less than five minutes, I intend to show her just how much she’s pleased me…

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Dorian

“You were magnificent,” I murmur, my hand tight on Isla’s waist as we exit the Grand House’s dining room.

She glances my direction, eyes wide, a flush creeping up her neck.

On her far side, Brennan nods. “You conquered.”

Outside, I climb into the waiting golf cart and Brennan hands her in.

I hadn’t wanted to get married, but now…? I’m not just proud, I see possibilities. And she’s fucking beautiful too. With Isla, I won the lotto, and my dick knows it. A need to possess her rocks me, and the demand won’t be denied.

The moment Brennan is settled, we are on our way back to the cottage.

With as hungry as I am for her, the drive takes too fucking long.

We enter the air-conditioned space, and I’ve waited as long as I can.

The moment Isla puts down her purse, heat sears through me.

I tighten my hand on the silver collar at her throat. The vines catch the light, a symbol of her strength, the surrender I’ll demand.

“Dorian…” Her eyes lock on mine, and her mouth parts softly in invitation.

My cock throbs even more incessantly.

I capture her shoulders while Brennan locks the door. With frantic energy, I claim her lips, deep, hungry, tasting her victory, savoring her loyalty.

She moans softly leaning into me, responsive, perfect.

Somehow I manage to move her into the living room. Beyond, on the patio, Calypso is curled on top of the cat tower, catching a sunbeam, sleeping. She never even blinks her eyes open.

Near the plush rug in the middle of the room, I draw us to a stop before dropping to my knees. I lift her dress and bunch it at her waist. Then I slide her silk panties down, the fabric whispering past her thighs. “You’ll keep the shoes on.”

“Anything you say.”