Page 97 of Claim Me

“Wasn’t that the point?” I asked.

She cocked her head, revealing more of her creamy shoulder and I resisted the urge to bite it. “What are you getting at, X?”

“Simply, that you were meant to be seen dancing. I suppose he told you that,” I said before spinning her away and drawing her back to my body.

She melted against me. “He did. Were you in on this?”

“I was informed by Norris.” My mouth twisted at her disgruntled expression. Only Clara could get mad over me behaving myself. “He seemed concerned that I might start a fight.”

“I wonder what gave him that idea,” she said, refusing to give in to the smile dancing in her eyes.

“I thought you wanted us to get along,” I whispered.

“I didn’t expect such a sudden change of heart,” she said.

“Let me put your mind at ease.” I kept my voice low. “I didn’t like seeing his hands on you. I wanted to take you away, and so I did. He had the good sense to relinquish what belongs to me, so there was no problem.”

“Is that so?” She shook her head like I was being ridiculous.

“That you belong to me?” I asked. “I thought we established that fact, but perhaps you need a refresher.” The hand I had on her back slipped down to grip her ass. Only for a moment, but it was all it took.

Clara bit her lip, squirming a bit in my arms. “What are you saying?”

“You seem guilty and a bit confused, and I can’t help thinking that punishment might help you sort that out,” I murmured, noticing how her nipples hardened at the mere suggestion of my words.

“Punishment?” she repeated. “I thought you would never touch me while you’re angry.”

I winked at her. “Do I seem angry?”

“But punishment?” she said, her voice peaking on the final word.

“I’m frustrated, Poppet,” I told her truthfully.

“With me? Why?”

It was artless and naive, and it only made me want to take her more.

“Because you’re breathtaking in that white silk that shows every inch of your body. Your nipples are hard and every man around us is eye-fucking my wife while she’s in my arms.” I moved my mouth to her ear, eager to catch every soft noise she made as I spoke. “They’re wondering what it’s like to touch a queen and they know that they’ll never experience a woman like you. But that’s not why I want to punish you.”

“Why?” she murmured, and I knew she was as turned on by my words as I was by her body in that dress.

“Why do I want to punish you? Because you’re being a gorgeous little cocktease. Because you’re making me so hard that I have to keep my jacket buttoned so people don’t see how hard you make me. Because other men are looking at what is mine.” I paused and breathed the most important reason, “Because I can.”

I didn’t ask her if it was okay. I took her hand and led her from the party—from our friends and family and guests. There was no way I would make it through this evening without touching her, tasting her, claiming her. I nodded to one of my men who stopped his conversation mid-sentence and walked away from the guest to clear a path for us. A few more followed, blending in with the crowd until we reached another gallery. Clara didn’t notice until we were suddenly alone.

She eyed the men as we passed them without a word.

“Subtle,” she teased.

There were more on the other side. They’d all been briefed that I needed a moment with my wife privately. When we came into the sculpture gallery, Clara looked around in surprise.

“We’re alone,” she said.

“Yes.” I ran a finger from her chin to her breastbone, enjoying how her nipples beaded even harder as my touch grew closer.

“You planned this,” she accused.

“You did tell me where the party was,” I said, feeling not the least bit apologetic. The moment she’d said the V&A, I’d thought of the sculpture gallery and fantasized about this moment. I couldn’t have planned for how she would look, although I should have thought of it, or how the men would react to seeing her like this.