Mine to Hold (Mine 3)

***

He had his hands on her, but Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that Claire was about to slip right out of his fingers. She was kissing him back, her mouth moving so perfectly beneath his, the taste of champagne on his tongue.

Don’t leave me.

The kiss became harder, rougher. His hands curled around her hips, and he pulled her forward. His cock shoved against the front of his pants. Just one kiss from Claire, and he was hard and swollen. Aching. He remembered the feel of her silken mouth on his cock. The way she’d licked him. Sucked him.

His fingers slid down, and he found the slit in her dress. He put his hand on her thigh. No stockings for Claire. Just silken, golden skin. He parted that slit a little more and his hand rose. He touched the light scrap of lace that shielded her sex.

She was wet for him.

We touch, we kiss, and we ignite.

At least he wasn’t the only one addicted. For them, it worked both ways.

His mouth pulled from hers. He stared into her eyes. “I want to fuck you.”

“Th-they’re waiting…”

“Let them wait.” He jerked on the panties, hard, and they tore. He needed her. There. Right there.

No foreplay. No sensual build-up to release.

He had to take her.

He would. He freed his cock. The damn thing sprang forward, so eager for her that moisture already beaded the tip.

He lifted Claire up. She had on her heels. Those incredibly sexy heels. He held her easily.

And he drove into her as deeply as he could.

You’re mine, Claire. I’m not letting you go.

She thought the engagement was fake.

He withdrew. Thrust deep.

She didn’t realize…

I did it so you’d be tied to me.

The sound of her moans filled his ears. Her sex was a tight, hot paradise around his cock. Squeezing him. Driving him out of his mind.

He had her pinned to the door. He thrust into her. Again and again. And his fingers strummed over her clit. He knew Claire’s body better than she did. He’d made a point to learn all of her weak spots. To learn how she liked to be touched. To learn just how to make Claire-

Her sex clamped around him. She choked out his name.

Explode.

He drove into her even harder. The base of his spine tightened, and he came, climaxing inside of her on a long, powerful, mind-numbing release that left his legs feeling weak.

He didn’t let her go. He couldn’t, not yet. He waited until his breathing evened, then he kissed her again.

This time, the kiss was soft. Slow.

He started to get hard inside of her again.

With Claire, he was always ready to go again.

His head lifted. Red stained her cheeks. Her eyes shined, and her lips were swollen from his mouth.

“Everyone is going to know what we did,” Claire said.

Good. He wanted them to know.

Claire’s mine. I’m not letting her go.

Even if he had to kill in order to keep her with him.

***

Noah had fucked Claire. Drake could tell. Sure, their clothes were perfectly in place again, but there was a flush on Claire’s skin. A sensual gleam in her eyes.

And there was the obvious stamp of satisfaction and possession on Noah’s face when he looked at her.

Oh, yeah, Noah had staked his claim all right. It would be apparent to every male in the room.

“He’s got it bad,” Trace murmured as he slid up to the bar beside Drake.

The band was playing now. Some low, romantic tune that got on Drake’s nerves. “Guess you’d know,” Drake said, glancing over at him. “Since Skye’s made you crazy for years.”

Trace’s gaze was actually on Skye as she talked with Claire. “She’s worth every minute of insanity.”

Bullshit. Drake had been burned—damn near lethally—by a woman before. He didn’t plan on ever getting onto the insanity-boat again. As far as he was concerned, no woman was worth that nightmare. “I think your men need to focus more on Austin Harrison.”

Trace’s brows climbed. “The brother?”

“Yes, the brother.” Drake was done with champagne. He drained the whiskey he’d just been given. He motioned to Noah, and his friend started crossing the room toward him.

A few seconds later, Noah leveled his gaze on Drake. “You took care of him?”

“Sure did.” He saluted him with his empty whiskey glass. “And I’m guessing you recently fired an employee?”

Noah nodded. “Five minutes ago. And I’ve doubled the security at the hotel.”

“Good idea,” Trace told him as his fingers tapped against the bar. “Seeing as how you’re working so hard to get a killer to come after you.”

Drake put his glass back down. No one was close enough to overhear them, but he still dropped his voice as he said, “I think the brother did it. I think he set up the bomb to kill Ethan Harrison.”

The faint lines near Noah’s eyes deepened. “His own brother?”

“Austin knew Ethan would be at that funeral. He knew which car his brother would arrive and leave in.” Austin had all but admitted his guilt outside of the Towers. “He said that Ethan would never stop going after Claire.”

“He wouldn’t have.” Noah’s face had hardened. “He was counting down the days until he we was free. He was as hung up on her as he always was.” Noah glanced over his shoulder, obviously looking for Claire.

He’s not the only one hung up on her.

But Drake was going to let his buddy dig his own grave on that one. His fingers curled around the empty whiskey glass. “Austin said he didn’t stop him before, but I think he made sure he stopped Ethan this time.”

Trace was already pulling out his phone. Drake heard the guy giving orders for a deeper investigation on Austin Harrison. “I want to know every move he’s made for the last three months,” Trace said into the phone.

When Trace gave an order, Drake knew his agents scrambled to obey.

“I don’t like the way he is with Claire,” Drake added.

Noah glanced back at him.

“He looks at her the same way you do.” And that fact worried Drake. “It can’t be good.” Drake just didn’t get it. Claire was a pretty woman, sure, definitely. Great eyes. Hot body. And she was smart—that was always sexy.

But…