"Didn't you ask if I loved you? If I wanted you?"
Lucian stepped close, his hand rising to gently trace the line of her jaw.
His gaze was so soft, so overwhelmingly tender, it made her head spin.
Her heart began to hammer erratically against her ribs. Was he finally going to cross the line? Was he finally going to prove he was hers?
"These past few days," he murmured, his voice dropping into a rough, magnetic register, "I know I've put you through hell."
Tears pricked Sigrid's eyes. "It's okay."
He withdrew his hand, turning away for a moment to light a specific, ornate candle on the nightstand. A heavy, intoxicating, almost sickly-sweet fragrance immediately bloomed through the room.
Then, he killed the main lights.
Before she could adjust to the shadows, he pushed her back onto the mattress. In one fluid motion, he unknotted his silk tie and wrapped it securely around her eyes, blinding her completely. She heard the distinct, deliberate sounds of him unbuttoning his suit jacket.
Swallowed by the darkness, Sigrid's other senses kicked into overdrive. She couldn't see him, but her mind conjured the intoxicating image of a man shedding his clothes, raw testosterone suffocating the air.
Her body flared with heat.
"Lucian..." she breathed, her voice melting into something soft and desperate. "Are you ready?"
Silence.
But the mattress dipped beside her. A heavy, burning breath fanned against the skin of her neck.
She shivered violently, instinctively reaching up to pull him down, but a large hand clamped firmly around her wrists, pinning them to the sheets.
His skin was feverishly hot.
Her pulse was roaring in her ears.
Slowly, his free hand trailed down, tracing the sharp line of her collarbone, slipping over her shoulder, and finally gripping her waist.
"Lucian..." she gasped, her tone urgent and aching.
He didn't speak. He just buried his face in her neck, pressing a hard, bruising kiss against her pulse point.
So this was what it felt like to be touched by him.
She had never craved a man this intensely in her life. She arched into his touch, utterly consumed by the chemical cocktail flooding her brain. The silk tie slipped off her eyes, but the room was too dark, and her mind was too clouded by the designer aphrodisiac burning in her lungs for her to care.
She blindly tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, moaning his name over and over again like a prayer as she rubbed against him.
Nathan Huxley hovered over her in the dark.
He stared down at the heiress to Stellar Trust.
Her eyes were glassy, her eyelashes fluttering wildly. Her face was flushed crimson, and she was practically begging for a man who wasn't even in the room.
Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, clinging to him like she was drowning.

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