The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

The tines of the fork tinged as I set it down on the plate and nudged it away, showing him I was finished. The whole thing had been provocative and seductive, and I was humming with lust. He’d given me my amuse-bouche, and now dessert, but I wanted the promised meal.

Macalister stood, set one hand on the tabletop, and leaned over until he could dip a finger into the leftover chocolate ganache smudged on the plate. I watched with anticipation as he swirled it around and collected a dollop onto the pad of his finger. He straightened and focused on me, and the power of his exacting stare flooded every inch of the room, even where the candlelight couldn’t reach.

His clean hand went to the back of my head, gripping my hair and pins holding it in place, and tugged backward, angling my face up toward the ceiling. It was so he could smear the chocolate across my lips, and then chase it with his mouth.

My knees pinched together as he tasted me, kissing and licking until every trace of it was gone, either consumed by him or melted away beneath his fiery kiss. And it was exactly how I felt—consumed. The thought made me go boneless. I was owned by him, but also revered.

“I’ve decided I’ll eat after all,” he commented. “Get on the table.”

My stomach flipped over with excitement, and more lust flooded my bloodstream, so much of it that I became a jittery mess. It made it hard to move, but I stood, moved the plate out of my way, and climbed up on my hands and knees. I’d barely gotten up before Macalister’s strong hands guided me to sit on my bottom, my knees pointed toward his chair and my bare feet dangling over the edge.

Once I was how he wanted, he stepped up to the edge of the table and used his hips to urge my knees apart and make space for him. His expression was firm, but not cold. He looked elegant and refined in his tuxedo, a man determined to get what he wanted, and I was naked before him as an offering.

His hand dipped into his jacket. “This came for you.”

My entire body solidified as he produced the tiny black leather box and held it out flat on his palm. Holy shit. My eyes went so wide it was painful. I had to be hallucinating, because there was absolutely no way he was presenting me with a ring.

The corner of his sexy mouth lifted in a cunning smile. “No, Sophia. You won’t wear this on your finger.” His eyes turned serious and commanding. “But you will wear it for me.”

My hand was trembling as I took the box and popped it open.

The box had promised jewelry, and that was what he’d given me. The curved barbell was white gold, ending at one end with a ball and a large, brilliant diamond set in prongs at the other. I nearly dropped the box in surprise.

“This is fourteen gauge,” he said. “If that’s not correct, I also have one in sixteen.”

He was the type of man who could buy whatever he wanted and in multiple sizes, including diamond VCH jewelry. “Fourteen is right,” I whispered.

“Excellent. Do you like it?”

I nodded, still floored. He was giving me expensive jewelry that I’d wear intimately. He was the only person who knew about it, and it was like he was celebrating our shared secret. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “Thank you.”

He set his palms on my knees, resting them there as I stared at the sparkling gems, mesmerized.

“This comes with conditions.” Light and shadows danced over his expression, exaggerating his sexy and ominous appeal. “The first being that you wear this for me, and no one else. I am the only man who sees it.”

My pulse jumped. He wanted me to be exclusive to him, and that was easy enough to agree to. “Okay.”

“The second is that when you wear it, you belong to me. I own you and your body, Sophia. This means I can have you whenever and however and,” his gaze crept downward, “wherever I want.”

Oh, my God. Heat blasted through me in an explosion of volcanic proportions. I didn’t care what I was signing up for, I’d do it. I was adventurous, and I’d take whatever order he gave. His conditions made me frenzied and needy and eager to sign this contract.

“Yes,” I croaked. Macalister began to smile, but it froze when I tacked on, “Wait.”

I stared up at him, my lips pressed together.

“Speak,” he ordered.

“I want the same. I’m the only woman you get to own.”

He blinked away his surprise, like this was a request I shouldn’t have to make. “Yes, of course.”

He’d told me the world ceased to exist around me, but he was still a man and capable of flowery words and promises that meant nothing. His sons weren’t exactly known for their honesty, either. But as I searched Macalister’s eyes, they contained conviction, and if he wanted to own me, I’d make sure it was a full-time job.