Chapter 3 Needy Woman
Outside, the night air was cool.
Magnus opened the passenger door and carefully placed Sophia inside as if she were made of glass. His hand supported her head, his other arm steady at her back, making sure she was comfortable.
Only after he was certain she was settled did he pull the seatbelt across her body and fasten it. Then he closed the door.
He walked around the car, his long strides quick, jaw tight, eyes dark. The moment he slid into the driver’s seat, the engine roared to life.
The car shot forward.
Within seconds, it disappeared into the night.
Across the city, Celia sat in her parked car along a crowded street, her eyes fixed on her phone. The harsh glow of the video call flickered across her face.
She watched Joseph and Violet being beaten, dragged, humiliated. When Violet collapsed, sobbing and begging like a madwoman, Celia’s expression twisted with fury.
Her fingers tightened around the phone so hard her knuckles turned white.
“What the hell is wrong with that woman?!” she snapped, her voice sharp with rage. “I told her to do one simple thing, and she still ruined it.”
Her chest rose and fell quickly, anger boiling over.
“Now I have to clean up this disaster.”
***
Magnus carried Sophia inside the mansion, his steps fast and hard against the marble floor as he shoved through the doors.
Each stride echoed. His jaw was locked so tight a muscle ticked near his temple, and his breath came rough, almost shaking.
His arms were iron around her, holding her close to his chest.
He didn’t slow down when he reached the stairs. He took them quickly, shoulders rigid, eyes dark, climbing straight toward the bedroom.
The moment they were inside, he put her on her feet.
But his hands never left her waist.
They stayed there, fingers spread, gripping, restraining himself, maybe restraining her, even he didn’t know anymore.
The coat he had thrown over her earlier had been left behind in the car. The dress clung to her like a second skin. The thin straps crisscrossed over her bare spine, barely keeping the fabric in place. Under the warm light, her skin seemed to glow.
Magnus forgot how to breathe.
His chest rose once, sharply.
The more he tried to swallow the storm inside him, the worse it became. His gaze dragged over her, heavy, hungry, furious, filled with a possession that made his hands tighten.
His throat burned.
Before he could stop himself, his fingers moved to the strings at her back. They weren’t gentle. They were impatient, trembling, almost angry.
He pulled.
The straps gave way.
The dress loosened, whispering down her body, sliding along her curves before falling in a soft pool around her feet.
Sophia swayed.
Immediately his other hand came up to the back of her head, fingers sliding into her hair, holding her upright.
“You need to take a shower,” he said.
His voice came out hoarse, tight, like it had been dragged through fire.
His eyes searched her face, dark, stormy, almost violent in the depth of emotion inside them.
“Look at you,” he muttered, his thumb brushing her cheek almost unconsciously. “You don’t want to sleep smelling like that disgusting bastard, do you?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she moved closer.
Her body pressed fully against his, soft and warm, her forehead dropping against his chest. Her fingers curled into his shirt.
“No,” she whispered.
The sound broke something in him.
With sudden urgency, Magnus bent and lifted her into his arms again. His hold was tight, almost desperate, as he carried her into the bathroom. He kicked the door shut behind them, turned on the water, steam already beginning to rise, and stepped into the tub with her.
He carefully lowered her down.
But the moment her feet touched the surface, she moved.
She surged upward instead of letting him go, her arms tightening fiercely around his neck. The force of it pushed him off balance. Magnus stumbled forward, one knee hitting the tub, water crashing over the edges.
“Sophia—”
Her fingers fisted in his collar, pulling him down. And then, her lips found his neck.
Heat rushed through her instantly, wild and merciless, burning along her veins. Her breaths came broken, uneven, her body trembling as if she were trapped in flames. Thinking became impossible. The world narrowed, blurred, until nothing existed except Magnus.
Air wouldn’t stay in her lungs.
She kissed him again, and again, restless, searching, like she was afraid he would vanish if she stopped. Her arms locked around him, holding him there, her mouth moving along his skin, up his throat, across his jaw.
Soft. Wet. Frantic.
Magnus sucked in a sharp breath.
Her touch made his fingers clamp down on the edge of the tub until his knuckles blanched. Every muscle in his body seized. Every nerve lit up at once.
He tried to lean away.
She followed.
A strained breath ripped out of him, his spine going rigid as her softness brushed him, as her scent curled around his senses and dragged him under.
“What are you doing?” he rasped, the sound rough, uneven. “Sophia, stop. You need to bathe and sleep.”
Her answer was another kiss.
She shifted to the other side of his neck, and his eyes closed against his will. A tremor went through him. Holding back was turning into agony.
She climbed over him, blindly, desperately. One of her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, clumsy, impatient, while her mouth kept moving over his skin, her tongue warm, her lips sucking lightly.
His head tipped back.
Her scent filled him, thick, dizzying. He was already painfully hard, and every second made it worse. The last threads of control were cutting into him.
She wouldn’t stop.
Kissing.
Clinging.
Breathing him in like she needed him to survive.
“Damn it…!” he muttered, the curse shaking.
Finally, he caught her shoulders.
His hands were trembling as he forced a small distance between them. Water streamed down his face, caught in his lashes, and ran over his chest. His breathing had turned heavy, fast, almost unsteady.
He looked at her.
Her eyes were unfocused, glazed with heat, shining with something raw and desperate.
“Look at me,” he demanded, voice breaking at the edges. “Do you even know who I am?”
Looking at her dazed expression, Magnus tried to drag himself back, to chain down every violent desire roaring inside him. One hand wrapped around her arm, while the other cupped her face, steadying her as she kept leaning toward him, chasing his warmth.
“Sophia, answer me,” he urged, low, strained.
Her lashes fluttered.
Slowly, her gaze cleared enough to find him.
“Magnus…” she whispered.
Her voice was soft, shaking, full of need. Her eyes burned with a hunger that made his restraint snap, strand by strand.
“…Please.”
That one word shattered him in an instant.
His restraint collapsed.
Before Magnus even realized what was happening, his back hit the tub. Water exploded over the rim, splashing onto the tiles, soaking the floor.
Sophia followed instantly.
She was on top of him in a heartbeat, her knees sliding against his thighs, her hands gripping his shoulders to keep her balance as her hips settled over his.
Magnus’s breath punched out of him.
Her fingers rose to his face, slipping into his wet hair, tightening, tilting his head up for her. Droplets ran down his temples. Her lips hovered just above his — so close he could feel her breath, warm, trembling.
Her eyes were blazing.
Untamed. Consumed.
Just before their mouths could crash together, Magnus’s hand shot up and wrapped around her neck. He didn’t squeeze but he stopped her, pushing her back just enough to drag air into his lungs.
His chest heaved.
“Weren’t you clinging to Elias yesterday?” he demanded, voice dark, shaking. “And now you want me to satisfy you?”
A humorless laugh tore from his throat.
“You’re cruel, aren’t you, Sophia?” he growled, something teasing and wounded twisting together in his voice.
She frowned.
Whatever he said never reached her. The meaning dissolved in the heat flooding her mind.
She was far past listening.
Her hand came up suddenly and caught his jaw, gripping it with a dominance that made him go still.
“Magnus Graves!” she snapped, urgency cracking her voice, “are you going to sleep with me or should I find another man?”
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes.
He pulled back a fraction—but she moved faster.
Her fist twisted in his collar, dragging him forward, and her mouth crashed onto his.
The force of it stole his breath.
She kissed him like she was starving. When she pulled away, it was only to chase another piece of him — his jaw, his throat — her lips pressing again and again as if she could never be close enough.
Magnus’s head tipped back.
A growl rolled out of his chest, deep and helpless. For one suspended second, his hands hovered in the air, still fighting, still trying to remember restraint.
Then they dropped to her waist.
Hard.
She didn’t slow. If anything, she became more insistent, clinging tighter, heat pouring from her in waves.
When he finally forced enough distance to look at her, the sight almost undid him.
Her eyes were wild.
Bright.
Lost to him completely.
She lay over him like living fire, relentless, devouring, leaving him nowhere to escape.
The last of his control turned to dust.
A low, possessive sound shook out of him.
“Remember,” he warned hoarsely.
His thumb slid under her chin, lifting her face, forcing her to keep looking at him.
“You are the one who asked for this.”
The next second, he grabbed the back of her head and snatched her close.
His mouth crashed against hers, their lips moving in rough, relentless strokes. He kissed her hard, claiming her mouth as she let him take control. He grew more frantic with every passing second, but she was just as restless.