Page 99 of Lured By Shadows

His eyes stayed on the road, not a flicker of surprise in his expression. “So that was the goal.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, smirking as I leaned back into my seat. “I’ll try not to talk about my past hookups.”

“Perfect,” he replied, far too calm, as his fingers slid right back between mine, threading together. “Now, should I run my tongue along your body? It would only be fair?”

His eyes smiled my way. I stared at him like he’d just told me Wi-Fi wasn’t real.

“Culver,” I said slowly, my mouth opening and closing as I tried to process what he’d just asked, “Absolutely not.”

He didn’t argue. Just hummed thoughtfully, squeezing my fingers once, soft and grounding. For a brief second, I could’ve sworn he wished he had another hand free, maybe to tuck my hair behind my ear or trace my cheek, but he didn’t let go.

He kept our fingers locked together the entire drive.

And the silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

It settled over me soft and steady, the kind of comfort that made me want to sink into it without thinking twice. I let my shoulder rest lightly against his arm as the road stretched out ahead. It felt more real and intimate than any rushed hookup I’d ever stumbled through, and I knew the difference because I’d chased enough empty nights to recognize when something was different.

Normally, by now, I’d be ghosting a guy, blocking his number and scrolling past the memories before they could catch up with me, always leaving early before things got too tangled. But this time, staying felt like the only option that made sense, even if it scared the hell out of me.

And I was going to make Culver want more, even if it meant playing this push-and-pull game until he was the one breaking first, the one begging for whatever came next between us.

When we rolled up to the gates again, the same surreal feeling lit up inside me. The Scarbrough estate stretched ahead like something pulled straight from myth. It was too pristine, too ornate, too far removed from the real world to feel entirely solid. The tires glided over the pavement so smoothly it barely felt like the car touched the ground.

“Martin,” Culver greeted the man in the booth with one of his calm, regal nods, like this was just another day ruling a small country.

The gates swung open obediently, as if they recognized his bloodline.

As the house came into view, every detail screamed money. Gold-trimmed windows, ivy crawling up pale stone, a silence that came from never having to worry about mundane things like bills or groceries or whether your life might implode next week.

The awe hit me again. This wasn’t a house. It was a statement.

And I wasn’t built for statements. I felt more like the messy edge that didn’t quite fit into all the polished perfection, the kind of girl who showed up uninvited and stirred things up without a plan.

I was the scribble in the margins. The chaotic footnote nobody planned for, the one always complicating the neat lines everyone else drew so carefully.

His words replayed in my head, looping in ways that were equal parts comforting and unsettling, making me question what I actually brought to any of this when I had nothing solid to lay on the table. No old money. No connections. Just me. Impulsive, emotional, messy me.

That shouldn’t have been enough.

And yet… here I was, sitting in his car with our hands linked, feeling the pull grow stronger even as doubt nipped at the edges of it.

Maybe he wanted a sugar baby with a backbone. Maybe he was just as gone for me as I was for him. Or maybe I was overthinking it again, twisting every good moment into something complicated.

Honestly, I almost wanted to laugh at myself, at how quickly I jumped to the worst conclusions the second things started to feel real.

My spiraling cut short when his hand slipped from mine.

26

Imust have looked panic-stricken because his chuckle came rich and low, curling through my ribs.

“I promise,” he murmured with his sinful mouth, “it will be right back where it belongs. Just for a moment, let me have it.”

My cheeks warmed helplessly beneath the weight of his attention, and I nodded, agreeing like some wide-eyed girl who’d just realized how good it could feel to let someone in close… even if it meant handing over a little control.

Culver opened my door and offered his hand like we were stepping out of a limousine at a red carpet event instead of simply walking into his family’s mansion. Gentlemanly to a fault, as usual.

We fell into step through the towering entrance, both unusually quiet. I tilted my head up to study him as we walked. His lips curled into a smirk—not his usual vaguely sinister one, but something rooted in genuine amusement. Seeing him amused by me made my stomach flutter and my pride bristle all at once.