Chapter 40 Upon the Desk
[Nyx]
"Then you better be ready for the consequences when I get back," he said, his voice dropping to a rough growl that sent shivers down my spine. "Because I'm going to make sure you remember exactly who you belong to. Every. Single. Touch. You'll forget anyone else ever existed."
Heat pooled low in my belly, my breath catching. "Promises, promises."
"Not a promise, Nyx. A guarantee." His eyes blazed with possession and hunger. "Wait for me. And when I get home, you're going to prove to me—with your body, your words, your scent—that I'm the only one who affects you this way."
My pulse raced, skin flushing as desire coiled tight inside me. "I'll be waiting," I managed, my voice breathier than I intended.
"Good girl." The approval in his tone made my wolf preen. "And Nyx? Don't touch yourself while you're waiting. That pleasure belongs to me tonight."
The screen went dark before I could respond, leaving me staring at my own flushed reflection. My hands trembled slightly as I set the laptop aside, my body humming with anticipation. The raw, aching need that had been building all afternoon intensified, sharpened by his words into something almost unbearable.
He's going to ruin you, Sylva purred in my mind, sounding entirely too satisfied.
"Shut up," I muttered, but my wolf only laughed.
---
Two hours felt like an eternity. Every minute dragged, my awareness heightened, my skin oversensitive. I tried to focus on the financial records, but my mind kept drifting to his promise, to the heat in his voice, to the things he might do when he returned.
When I finally heard his footsteps approaching the study, my heart leapt into my throat. The door opened, and Lysander filled the doorway—broad shoulders still radiating heat from training, that confident swagger, eyes locked on me with unmistakable intent.
Before I could stand, he was there, hauling me up from the chair and backing me against the desk in one fluid motion. His hands framed my face as he captured my lips in a kiss that stole my breath—hungry, possessive, claiming. His tongue swept against mine with a dominance that made my knees weak, and I melted into him with a sound that was half gasp, half surrender.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His amber eyes had gone full gold, the wolf barely contained beneath his skin.
"Missed me?" he growled against my lips, his thumb tracing my jaw.
"Maybe," I managed, though my hands were already clutching his shirt, pulling him closer.
"Only maybe?" His hands slid down to my waist, gripping tight enough to leave marks. "Then I haven't made myself clear enough yet." He dipped his head, trailing kisses and bites down my neck that made me gasp. "I helped you today. Got you the evidence you needed. Don't I deserve a proper reward for being such a dedicated husband?"
Heat flooded through me, pooling between my thighs. "What kind of reward did you have in mind?"
His hands slid lower, cupping my ass and lifting me onto the desk in one smooth motion. Papers scattered, but neither of us cared. "The kind where you prove to me," he murmured, stepping between my thighs and pressing against me, "that I'm the only one who makes you feel like this."
I could feel the hard length of him through our clothes, and my hips rocked forward instinctively, seeking friction. "Lysander—"
"Say it," he demanded, his hand tangling in my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat. "Tell me who you belong to."
"You," I breathed, past caring about pride or independence. "Only you."
"Good girl." His teeth grazed my pulse point, and I whimpered. "Now let me show you exactly what that means."
What followed was intense, passionate, and thorough. The mahogany desk creaked beneath us as Lysander claimed every promise he'd made during our call. Papers scattered to the floor, forgotten, as we lost ourselves completely in each other. The study that had once been my sanctuary of solitude became something entirely different—a place where inhibitions dissolved and nothing existed but the two of us.
---
Afterwards, I sat on the edge of the desk, disheveled and breathless, using it for support as my legs still trembled slightly. Lysander stood between my thighs, his hands resting possessively on my hips, both of us trying to catch our breath.
That's when reality came crashing back. I suddenly remembered what I'd told him during our video call—the evidence, the betrayal, all of it.
My expression hardened as I recalled the stolen forty million. "You know what I said earlier about Isla?" I said, my voice taking on a fierce edge despite my current state.
Lysander's hands tightened slightly on my hips, recognizing the shift in my tone. "The forty million she stole."
"Exactly." I reached for some of the scattered papers, my fury reigniting. "I'm going to make her pay for what she did to my mother's company. She thinks she can steal from us and get away with it?" I looked up at him, my eyes blazing with determination. "She's about to learn exactly who she's been messing with."