Page 143 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim

“Her passion for education, her fire… It’s an honor to stand beside her in this noble endeavor. So, raise a glass to her, and to the difference we’re all making together tonight.”

The crowd erupts in applause, glasses clinking, and my cheeks flush, a mix of pride and nerves. Dorian steps down, his eyes never leaving mine, and I feel the weight of his words, his claim, wrapping around me like his touch.

“Come with me.” Before anyone else can join us, he clamps his hand on my elbow and steers me outside, toward a quiet corner of the rooftop, where the lights are dim and the ferns create a curtain of green.

The jazz fades, the city’s hum taking over, and my breath catches as he backs me against a glass railing, the cool surface biting my skin through my gown.

With the way he’d eyed me so hungrily before we left the penthouse, I should have expected this.

“Dorian—” My eyes widen as I sense his intent. The man takes scandalous behavior to new heights every chance he gets. “Not here. We can’t—” My protest dissolves as he crashes his mouth onto mine, all heat and hunger.

He grabs the skirt of my gown, bunching the chiffon, and I’m unable to protest. Instead, I dig my fingers into his tuxedo.

With his tongue, he claims me. He’s whiskey and sin, and I’m drowning, my body igniting as it always does for him.

The slit in my gown parts, and he eases his fingers inside my lace panties. I’m already slick and ready.

“Fuck,yes.”

Gasping, I rock my hips against his touch.

“So goddamn exquisite.” He growls the words against my lips as his fingers circle my clit with ruthless precision. “Watching you own the room… I couldn’t wait another fucking second.”

His touch is relentless, stroking, teasing, and I bite my lipto keep from moaning loud enough for the whole gala to hear.

A flash snaps me out of my haze, and I look up to see Marcella, that damn photographer, near a fern, her camera clicking.

Though my cheeks are burning, Dorian doesn’t stop. Instead, he plunges deeper, curling against that spot that makes my knees buckle. “Ignore her.” His breath is hot against my neck. “I want the world to know you’re mine.”

Moments later, Marcella is gone, and my body’s screaming, pleasure coiling so tight I’m shaking, but the exposure makes my heart race. I’m bare, vulnerable, pinned between Dorian’s touch and the city skyline, and God, it’s thrilling. “Dorian… I…” My voice breaks, and I’m not sure if I want him to stop or push me over the edge.

His eyes dark with devilment, he pulls back to smooth my gown into place with deliberate care.

“Wait!”

He grins. “Later, little one.” His voice is a vow, leaving me trembling, aching.

After kissing my hand, he rejoins the crowd.

The gala hums along, but my mind snags on something I overhear near one of the bars.

Everett is near a man I don’t know, and his voice is low. “Davenport’s mess needs cleaning up. The escort ring’s unraveling—too many loose ends.”

Davenport?

As in my father?

My stomach drops.Escort ring?Afraid of dropping my champagne, I clench the stem so hard that my knuckles whiten.

Before I can ask questions, my attention is claimed by some new arrivals, and I do my best to pretend I’m interested in what they have to say.

As the night winds down, guests begin to leave. Dorian and Brennan find me near the champagne fountain, their eyes softening as they take in my flushed cheeks, my slightly mussed hair. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

On our way out, we stop to say goodbye to several other people, and Irving wishes us a pleasant evening.

Back at home, my heels click against the marble floor as Dorian and Brennan guide me through the dim glow of the living room, their hands warm against me.

I’m still buzzing from the gala, my body humming with the promise of their touch after that heated moment with Dorian on the rooftop.