Alexander’s POV
The journey from the kitchen to the master suite was a blur of white linen, heated skin, and the overwhelming, intoxicating scent of her arousal.
Lilian didn’t protest. She didn’t make a joke about her “unionized legs” or the fact that I was carrying her like a spoil of war through the corridors of my ancestral home. Instead, she buried her face in the crook of my neck, her breath hot and damp against my skin, her hand tangling in the hair at the base of my skull.
She was holding on.
For a man who had spent a decade making sure no one could ever get a grip on him, the sensation of her small hand anchoring me was…heavy. And terrifyingly welcome.
MINE, Titus roared, pacing a frantic, joyous circle in the center of my chest. DEN. TAKE HER TO THE DEN. KEEP HER.
I kicked t
