Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Eve
I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed, my psychology textbook spread open in front of me as I try to hammer definitions into my brain, when the door abruptly swings open.
I glance up, blinking away the study haze I’ve been in, and notice it’s dusk outside. How long have I been doing this? Straightening, I stretch, and my back screams in protest, stiff from being hunched over my book for hours.
“There’s a ceremony tonight,” Christian says, his tone lazy, casual.
My heart stutters to a halt, and dread sinks like a stone in my stomach. This is the thing Skye mentioned earlier. I can’t let on that I’ve been talking to Skye, so I blink at him, surprised.
“A ceremony?” I shut my textbook with more force than necessary, suddenly aware of how small I feel in this enormous bed— his bed. “For what?”
He circles around to my side of the bed, each step dripping with authority. Goddamn, the way this guy moves—confidence in every subtle movement—it makes me wonder if he’s ever questioned himself. Ever. Or, in his mind, is self-doubt just something that happens to other people?
“Come with me,” he says, his voice dropping to that register that makes my thighs automatically clench. For once, it’s not a command, but an invitation.
“I’m tired,” I say, even as adrenaline spikes through me. Part of me wants to go—to learn the Burning Crown’s secrets, to be close to him—but this is my one chance to find that office while everyone is distracted.
With the tip of his finger, he traces my jawline, his touch light. Gentle. One part of me wants to lean into it, while the other part wants to pull away. It’s exhausting.
“I’d like you there,” he says, pushing off the bed post.
Something in his voice shifts—less command, more request—which is weird for him, and somehow more dangerous. It’s so much easier to defy an order than it is to decline a polite request. But I have to.
“I have to study.”
He grabs my arm and tugs me against him with one fluid motion. My breath catches as my body collides with his, the heat of him seeping through my skin. I don’t try to pull away, because I already know I can’t. Or maybe—and this thought terrifies me more—I don’t want to.
“Why do you want me there?” I ask. “So you can parade me around like I’m your prize? No, thanks.”
A thick band of tension stretches between us as his eyes lock onto mine, searching for the truth I’m desperately trying to hide.
“This thing between you and me is more than that,” he says smoothly. I shake my head, and that makes him laugh. “Are you really going to deny the raw, messy, volatile energy between us, Little Fox?”
My throat tightens. Of course, I’ve felt the crazy energy between us—I’d have to be brain-dead not to—but admitting that to him feels too much like surrender, too much like giving him the last sliver of control I’ve been desperately clinging to since I arrived.
Scraping my teeth across my bottom lip, I glance away. My resistance to Christian is weakening by the second, and looking at his face will only make this harder to say. “There’s nothing between us, Christian.”
His lips stretch into a devious smile. “Have you already forgotten what happened downstairs on the pool table?”
“You’re hot and I hadn’t had sex in a while…” I shrug, braving a side-long glance at him. “So, yeah, it was a moment of weakness. Any cock could have gotten the job done.”
I can see the exact moment that last sentence lands, because his expression hardens. His jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare.
“You’re lying.” His voice drops to a dangerous whisper as he pulls me a fraction closer. “You know how I know?”
He dips his head, and my breath snags as he traces his warm lips along my neck, creating a path of goosebumps that erupt across my skin. “Because every time I touch you, your skin flushes.”
When he reaches my ear, his hot breath makes me shiver. “Your pulse races at the base of your throat…” His tongue snakes around my earlobe, and he bites down. My clit throbs. “Your body fucking sings for me , Eve…” The way he growls my name is pure sin, like he’s claiming it. Like he’s claiming me.
My composure cracks, and a little moan escapes my throat. I hate that I’m literally proving him right, but masking my response to him is like trying to hold my breath—there’s only so much control I have before natural instincts kick in.
There’s still a microscopic flame of defiance buried deep down, though. I draw on it, twisting my head to the side, pulling my earlobe out of his mouth.
“Lust is a natural human mechanism,” I say, quoting one of my psychology textbooks. “It’s designed by nature to encourage reproduction and genetic propagation…” I turn to look at him dead in the eyes. “In other words, any animal can fuck, Christian.”
“Propagation…” he moans, his hand reaching under my cropped graphic-T, his large palm cupping my left breast through my bra. “Now there’s an idea...”
I’d scoff, but God help me, the way he says that, his deep, seductive timbre scraping over each syllable, I’m melting faster than a sandcastle at high tide. Despite my reluctance, I lean into his hand, breath stuck in my lungs, waiting for his next move...
His lips find my throat again as he tugs my shirt off and throws it over his shoulder. My bra is next. Reaching behind me, he unhooks it and pulls it off me in one fluid motion, letting it drop to the floor. Now, I’m only in my jeans, naked from the waist up.
He pulls back to study me, and for the first time, I don’t feel self-conscious. Maybe it’s because of the way he’s looking at me—with hunger and appreciation, like a starving man staring down a buffet. This guy can have any girl on campus, but it’s me he wants.
There’s something very addictive about that.
Feeling bold, I push my hands under his shirt and run my fingertips along the ridges of his six-pack. His skin is tight, warm, the muscles flexing against my fingers. With his back rigid, he pulls in a shaky breath, and I can tell he’s trying to hold himself back…
But it’s like putting a leash on a wolf.
It’s only a matter of time before that leash snaps.
For once, I want to be the one in control. I’m tired of being pushed around—by him, by my brother, by my own conflicted feelings. Something sparks inside me, a thrill at seeing the all-powerful Christian West struggling to restrain himself because of me.
Power tastes delicious on my tongue, and I’m thirsty for more of it.
Struggling to hold back a smile, I push back and retreat several steps, putting a little distance between us. He looks confused before taking a step forward, reaching for me.
“Ah,” I say, hand out. It manages to stop him. “Stay where you are. Remove your shirt.”
My voice is firm, and for once, I’m the one giving the orders. And the look on his face when he realizes it? So unbelievably priceless.
Narrowing his eyes, he just stands there for a second, the air between us charged with tension. I can practically see the internal struggle playing out behind those pale eyes—his instinct to dominate wrestling against my demand that he yield. No one challenges Christian West. Yet here I am, daring to do just that, and instead of shutting me down, he’s...considering it, which feels like a win.
Seconds later, he drags his teeth over his bottom lip—a movement so unintentionally seductive it makes my stomach flip—and does what he’s told. He pulls his shirt over his head, deliberately slow, never breaking eye contact, and drops the fabric at his feet. It’s compliance, yes, but barely. Somehow, he’s managed to make submission feel like he’s still the one in control.
Damn.
His pecs twitch as I stare at him, drinking in the sight of his toned body. He’s a masterpiece of tan, muscled perfection. His jeans hang low on his lean hips, a light dusting of hair trailing from his navel and disappearing into the waistband of his pants.
Something animalistic stirs inside me—a raw, clawing need for Christian that catches me completely off guard. I need his cock buried inside me again, and judging by the thick bulge in his jeans, he’s ready to deliver.
My nipples tingle, and there’s a pulse thumping rapidly between my thighs. One word from me, and I know he’d toss me down on the bed, and fuck me exactly the way I need it, but this boy needs to be taught a lesson in humility.
“Strip,” I order him, flicking my chin and pointing at his pants.
“I don’t think you realize who you’re talking to,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous register as he steps forward.
I bring my hand up, and by some miracle, it stops him again.
“I call the shots around here,” he says, flashing me with a withering stare I feel all the way down to my bones.
This is where most people would give in. That commanding tone, that deathly glare—I imagine it’s why so many people are afraid of him. If I had any sense, I’d be afraid, too. But I don’t have any sense, apparently, so I push past the instinct to back down…
“Strip,” I repeat, swallowing past the uncertainty that rises up inside me. “And get on the bed.”
His pecs twitch again as he considers his options. Clearly, this is foreign to him—being submissive—and I hold my breath, hyperaware that this power dynamic could snap any second.
He shifts like he’s going to reach for me, and on instinct, I respond—shifting back on my heel, ready to run if this little adventure goes sideways. He must sense it, because his eyes narrow and he studies my face, calculating.
Then— shockingly —he exhales, and with measured movements he kicks off his shoes, peels away his socks, and then unbuttons his jeans and slides them down along with his boxers—all while keeping eye contact.
Now he’s standing naked in front of me, powerful and unapologetic, his thick cock jutting out like he’s still the one in charge, despite everything. Seeing him like this makes my breath catch and my mouth water.
God. Damn. He’s so beautiful.
“On the bed,” I repeat, clearing my throat.
Is it hot in here? Jesus.
With a low growl that vibrates through the air, he climbs onto the bed and settles back against the pillows, one arm tucked behind his head lazily. Even in submission, he drips with self-assured confidence, like a wolf allowing you to approach, if you’re brave enough. But at any moment, that docile compliance could evaporate, and he could bare his teeth.
It’s stupid, but that sense of danger only makes me want him more…
“Now what?” he asks, those beautiful lips curled into a teasing smile. He’s testing me, maybe. Going along with this just to see what I’ll do, how far I’ll take it.
Our gazes lock as I unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs, my panties coming off with them. With electricity pulsing through me, I crawl onto the bed and straddle his thighs, our bare skin meeting, creating a spark of heat.
Sitting back on my heels, I study the hard planes of his body. His eyes darken as he watches me, waiting, that signature conceit temporarily quieted.
“Now,” I whisper, my hand trailing down his chest, the rapid thunder of his heart beating beneath my fingertips, “I teach this hound how to obey…”