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“You’re mine,” he repeated again, like a mantra, his voice raw and filled with emotion. Every thrust included the words you're mine like an oath or pledge of his love. He claimed me over and over again until I surrendered to him completely.
And then he finally collapsed above me, spent.
18
Gwen
Two days after Atticus brought my sister home, he still hadn’t let up on the overprotective bit. Nope. My husband pinned me with a serious stare. "You're to stay here, Gwen."
I frowned as the car squeezed into a tight spot at a warehouse in the meat packing district.
"Oh my God, haven’t you gotten your need to be overbearing out of your system for the day? You have a sister-in-law to smother now. Why do I need to stay here? What's the worst that could happen? Besides, there's a boutique down the way. I could just go and pop in there."
"Sven, stay with her."
"Yes, sir."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh my God, if you weren't going to let me do anything, then what is the point in bringing me along?"
"You're doing something adjacent."
I narrowed my gaze. "Haven't we already had the discussion about how you're supposed to include me in the plans?"
"Yes, we have. And I'm including you. See, you're here, aren't you? I didn't sneak out to do this on my own."
I whacked him on the shoulder. The man did not budge, though he did give me the stupid dimples, which meant, 'Oh, God, aren't you cute?'
"But you're not letting me do anything."
"It's better if you don't. But this way, at least you get to hear about it right away. On the ground, so to speak."
"I swear to God, I can murder you when you're asleep, you know."
"I am aware. You literally hold my dick in your hands. Constantly,” he reminded me. “However, you haven't started your self-defense training yet, so in case things get wild and crazy, I want to be the one who handles it."
"Atticus, you won't have a bodyguard with you if Sven stays with me."
"Yes, well, you're more likely to get in trouble than I am."
I scowled and watched as he strode toward the run-down apartment building. It was wedged between two warehouses, and it looked like one of those buildings where the landlord refused to give the property up to developers while all around it the neighborhood was changing. I could remember when the meatpacking district had been exactly what it sounded like.
It had been one area of town where my father had forbidden us from going when we were kids. But then somewhere along the way, it changed. Much like everything else. Thanks to gentrification, fashion houses, and avant-garde artists, everything changes eventually.
Atticus looked handsome as hell. He was wearing his peacoat, as there was a chill in the air today. I knew for a fact that would eventually come off, leaving him in a vest. All I wanted to do was peel his clothes off and lick him.
You can do that later. At home.
Since we'd almost gotten caught by his assistant, Andrew, again, we'd had to institute a new rule. No more fucking in the office. At least not unless it was behind closed and locked doors.
When Atticus left the car, that cute ass climbing up the stairs with a purpose, I sighed in the seat. "Sven, I know you're not going to let me in the building, but can I at least get out of the car?"
Sven frowned, his slight Norwegian accent crisp and clear. "No, Miss. Not wise."
And then a thought occurred to me. "Sven, you're an employee of Pendragon, right? Or does Atticus employ you personally?"
“Technically, ma'am, I am an employee of Pendragon."
"Oh, that's excellent,” I said cheerfully. “So technically, I'm your boss."
