Page 79 of Auctioned to the Devil

Not because I saved her.

Because she’s Emily.

Stubborn.

Reckless.

Brave.

Mine only because she chooses to be.

When I lift my head, she rests her forehead against mine.

“No more fake relationship?”

“Was never very good at fake.”

“No more ordering me around?”

“No.”

She laughs. “At least you’re honest.”

I kiss her again.

This time she smiles against my mouth.

And for the first time since I came home from the Army, the silence inside my cabin doesn’t feel empty.

It feels like peace.

I carry her up to our bedroom, our lips locked the entire time.

She tastes like everything I’ve been starved for. I lean her back into my bed and my hand fists in her hair, tilting her head back so I can take more, taste deeper. She gasps against my mouth, her nails digging into my shoulders like little anchors. That whimper she makes goes straight through me, a live wire down my spine.

“You sure about that?” My voice is rough, barely mine.

“Yes.” No hesitation. No fucking doubt. “I want you.”

A growl rips out of me. I lift her—so light, like nothing—and carry her toward the bedroom. Her arms lock around my neck, her heart hammering against my chest. When her back hits the mattress, I loom over her, drinking in the sight. Every damn inch.

“You’re mine,” I murmur, dragging my hands down her sides like a promise. Slow. Reverent.

She shivers as my palms skate up her thighs, pushing that dress out of the way. My mouth follows—lips tracing heat over her stomach, between her breasts, back to her mouth. By the time I get there, she’s trembling. Needy. Desperate.

I rest my forehead against hers. “This ain’t just tonight. Ain’t just some one-time thing.”

She swallows hard, legs wrapping around my hips. “I know.”

My hands frame her face, thumb dragging over that swollen bottom lip.

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, Emily.” A promise. A warning.

She smirks, breath shaking. “Good.”

Then I claim her. Not rushed. Not frantic. Slow. Intentional. Every kiss, every touch—deliberate.

I take my time peeling her clothes away, worshiping every new inch of skin I uncover. By the time she’s bare beneath me, she’s burning up. I lean back just to look at her—dark and hungry.