Page 63 of In Darkness We Claim

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” he asks, with a cocky edge to his voice, as if he wasn’t checking me out just as much.

Still, I can’t help the flush that spreads to my cheeks over being caught. “You were looking at me too,” I mutter, almost childishly.

He lets out a short laugh, and my stomach flutters when his lips tilt into a genuine smile that makes him appear younger and more carefree than normal. His face becomes almost boyish, and even more handsome.

Quick as a flash, he grabs hold of my hips and twists me around, pulling my back flush against his chest. He crushes my body against his, making sure we’re both positioned in front of the full-length mirror I was using not too long ago.

There’s heat in his beautiful steel-grey gaze as we stare at each other in the mirror. I can feel the sharp points of his ribs, the hard lines of his abs, and the rough texture of his skin pressing into me, causing goosebumps to erupt over my flesh. His erection, a hard, undeniable presence, is growing warm and insistent against my thigh, its heat radiating through our clothes.

He leans down and presses several short, sweet kisses along my shoulder and up my neck, stopping just as he reaches my ear. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look right now?”

The deep, raspy rumble of his voice sends a wave of heat through me, coiling low in my stomach. A shaky breath escapes my lips as I shake my head, the movement feeling heavy under the weight of his stare. The air seems thick, charged, and I’m struck by the silence, the right words seeming just out of reach.

“I’m so fucking torn right now,” he tells me, and my brow furrows in confusion. “I need to complete this assignment, and I know you’re my best chance at doing that, but the thought of anyone else seeing you like this makes me murderous. It’s going to take all of my effort tonight not to stab someone in the eye.”

A silent chuckle escapes me at his ridiculous words, but a sharp, icy glare reflected in the mirror halts me mid-breath. “You’re not kidding, are you? Why does it matter if people look at me?”

His steel-grey eyes deepen to an almost black abyss, reflecting the intensity of the moment. The rough fabric of his shirt scrapes against my skin as his strong hands grip my hips. The pressure is intense, a tangible heat radiating through my clothes, and I can already feel the phantom sting of a bruise forming beneath his touch.

“Because you’re mine,” he growls possessively.

“I’m so confused,” I mutter, my brain working hard to understand the complexity that is Lawson Radley. “You told me to dress sexy, so it’d be easier to draw the attention of the Pledge, but now you’re saying you don’t want anyone to look at me. You hate me, but you don’t want others to look at me. And they say women are confusing,” I huff, shaking my head in despair.

Lawson lets go of my right hip and wraps his hand around my neck, spreading his fingers out just enough to force me to tilt my head back, whilst still being able to meet his gaze in the mirror. His touch feels coarse against my skin, a firm pressure that doesn’t steal my breath, but makes it clear he’s in control.

“None of that matters. Since I can’t tell everyone in the room tonight that you belong to me, I’ll have to settle for knowing that you know you’re mine.” His voice is a deep rumble that vibrates against my back.

The air around me hums with an unseen energy, and every nerve ending tingles with the sheer proximity of him. He ignites my body, a cascade of electric sparks dancing beneath my skin, the sensation both dazzling and new.

“I have your name tattooed on me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget,” I snap, needing to rebel against the way he’s making me feel.

I’m supposed to be holding onto the knowledge that he hates me, that he’s only doing this as a punishment for my dad, despite his promises to help me. Him playing my body like a bloody fiddle cannot make me forget that.

His cocky smile widens as he looks down to the bottom of my dress, the hand on my left hip trailing lower across my thigh. He grabs hold of the hem and lifts it up, bunching it into his fist until he’s exposed my black lace thong underneath.

His dark eyes appear almost hungry as he takes in the scrap of material that’s barely covering me. Lawson then lets go of my neck, and slowly trails his fingers down the length of my body, stopping when he reaches the elastic of the thong. He gently slips it down a little, only stopping once the tattoo of his name is visible on my bare mound.

There’s a little redness around the cursive writing and small rose, as the tattoo is still healing, making it quite sensitive. Usually, I cover it with a large plaster, to stop the elastic on my underwear from rubbing against it. But tonight, it’s almost as if I knew he wouldn’t want me to have it covered, even though he never said anything.

Lawson trails his fingers over the writing, his touch featherlight, so it creates more of a tingle than a sting. I’m actually a little impressed by how beautiful the writing is, given Lawson is the one who did it—since he’s hardly a professional tattooist—and we weren’t exactly in a tattoo studio with all the best equipment. Still, you wouldn’t know any of that just by looking at it.

“I like seeing my name on your skin. Maybe I’ll find some other ways to mark you,” he muses, before asking, “Have you ever considered getting tattoos?”

I shake my head, not even needing time to think about the answer. “It was never an option for me. The perfect Order Wife is expected to have unblemished skin. A tattoo would be seen as common. Even though I secretly thought I might quite like one, I never would have gotten your name if I had been given a choice.”

That bloody smug smile of his grows as his touch sweeps lower, and he slides his finger through my slit. The only thing separating us is the thin lace material. He can feel how wet I am, and I can’t help but moan quietly as his finger strokes my clit.

“What tattoo would you have got?” he asks, as he slowly circles around my sensitive bud, making my head swim.

“I don’t know. I never gave it any thought, since it was a waste of time. Why did you choose the tattoos you have?” I ask, trying to concentrate on our conversation and not the way his finger is sliding through my fabric-covered pussy, while his hard cock rubs against my back.

“They all have meaning, but I had to get them in places that aren’t visible, as my father would never approve,” he tells me, and I’m stunned that he so willingly gave me a little piece of himself, but that’s quickly pushed aside when he moves my thong so he can press his fingers into my wet hole.

I let out a shuddered breath that quickly turns into a moan as I rock my hips to meet his fingers, pushing them in deeper. I throw my head back and rest it against his shoulder, closing my eyes as I lose myself to him and his fingers.

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart,” he growls against my ear, sucking on my neck as soon as he’s finished speaking.

All the sensations I’m experiencing at once overwhelm my body, and my core is tightening as heat floods my veins, making every nerve ending feel like it’s on fire.