Page 123 of Claimed At First Sight

“Who is Lee Roberts?” I ask, my attention fixed on her face. I want to know exactly what that name means to her.

Mia looks genuinely surprised. Then a devious smile spreads across her face. I immediately distrust it.

Holding my gaze, she crosses the room and lowers herself onto the sofa opposite me with infuriating deliberation.

Apparently, we’re settling in for a siege.

“Are you going to give me back my book if I tell you?”

What an absurd question.

“You could ask a hundred more times. The answer isn’t changing.”

She presses her lips together, unimpressed. My gaze drops to her mouth, and unfortunately, I’m immediately reminded of one particular photograph.

Mia lying on her back, her head hanging over the edge of the bed, her long dark hair fanning onto the floor. As if that image wasn’t distracting enough, she had to draw her finger between those plump lips I’m staring at right now while looking directly at the camera.

The memory of that image is enough to make my blood rush south in a frenzy, my cock hardening again.

One day soon, I’ll have her in that position. But she won’t be sucking on her finger.

Christ, I really need to shut down that image and the future it keeps tempting me with. Mia’s sharp tone certainly helps bring me back to the here and now.

“You have no right to keep it,” she declares.

Her protest pours fresh fuel onto my still-simmering irritation.

“And you had no right to parade around half-naked in front of some stranger.”

Her mouth falls open. Then she closes it again, seemingly lost for words. I enjoy the sight. Sadly, it doesn’t last long.

“I can do whatever the hell I want.”

My teeth grind together.

“We covered that only yesterday. Not while you’re in my city and under my protection.”

The sound she makes is somewhere between a groan and a strangled cry. She throws her hands into the air.

“Now answer the question,” I order.

“No.”

Her refusal hits me like gasoline on an open flame.

“No?”

“Your hearing is remarkably good for a man your age,” she taunts.

Her gaze drifts to the album beside me. A faint flush creeps into her cheeks before she quickly looks away again.

“You realize it won’t be hard for me to find out who that man is.”

“I do. But you want to know right now, don’t you?”

I stare at her, willing her to tell me. But she remains silent, holding my gaze without flinching. It feels like minutes pass in this quiet standoff, neither of us willing to give in first.

I shrug and stand, picking up the book and turning to leave. If she isn’t going to tell me who Lee Roberts is, I’ll find out myself.