Semua Bab Claimed by the billionaire : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Elizabeth — POV I could feel him watching me. Christian hadn't spoken much since he walked me back to our table, but his silence said more than words ever could. The weight of his gaze was impossible to ignore—hot, sharp, and possessive. I downed another glass of champagne. The burn was immediate, but it didn’t drown the heat simmering low in my stomach. I reached for another, my fingers a little too quick, too clumsy. The glass tipped against my lips too fast, and some of the drink spilled—trailing down my chin, over my throat. Damn it. I started to wipe it with the back of my hand. But before I could, Christian stood. My breath hitched. He didn’t say a word as he stepped around the table—calm, controlled, predatory. He stopped behind me, then leaned in slowly, mouth grazing the curve of my neck. “What are you—” He didn’t answer. Then I felt it. His tongue. Slow. Hot. He licked the champagne from my skin like it was his right. His tongue dragged up

Elizabeth POV The scent hit me first. Warm cinnamon, roasted tomatoes, and that buttery softness I hadn’t realized I’d missed. I stepped into the kitchen and froze. “Nana?” She turned from the stove, her apron already dusted with flour, cheeks flushed from the heat. “Well, look who it is,” she said, her smile wrapping around me like a hug. I crossed the room without thinking and hugged her tightly. “I missed you,” I whispered. She held me just as tightly. “I missed you too, my girl. Every single day.” When I finally let go, her eyes studied me. Not just my face, but my mood—like she was reading between the lines of my silence. “What happened while I was gone?” I leaned against the counter, my hands gripping the edge like I needed something to anchor me. “It’s always one step forward with Christian... and two steps back.” She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Just kept stirring whatever magic she had simmering on the stove. “Did you... see him this morni

On my way to the bedroom, I caught sight of Nana in the kitchen. Her back turned to me as she swept the floor. Everything about her movements was calm and peaceful—like she carried her own little world of quiet in this house full of storms. When she looked up and spotted me, her whole face softened. She leaned the broom against the fridge and made her way over, her eyes sweeping over me like she was checking for bruises. “Are you alright, child?” her voice was soft but concerned. I forced a smile, but it cracked at the edges. “I’m fine,” I whispered, though my throat still burned from earlier. Her gaze dipped to my neck, lingering a little too long. I followed it, the memory of Christian’s grip flashing through my mind. She quickly blinked away, but I saw it—pity. I hated that look. I’d spent my whole life avoiding it. Pity didn’t fix anything, it just made the cracks feel deeper, the weight heavier. Then Nana leaned in, voice lowering like we were sharing secrets. “He’s

If there’s something I’ve mastered lately, it’s the art of avoiding Christian Reed like a plague. I make sure to stay in bed until ten. He always leaves for work around nine, like clockwork. Very easy. Ever since that night, when he came into my room, tied my wrists, and tongue fucked me with his mouth—I haven’t been the same. I wake up with the ghost of his touch on my skin, shamefully wet and embarrassingly needy. Some nights I leave the door cracked open… pathetically hoping he’ll come back. Maybe he’ll pull me out of bed, pin me down, make me forget how much I hate him. But he never came. Maybe he smelled it on me, my desperation, especially after I asked, like a fool, “No sex?” Maybe he got bored. Maybe I disgust him now. I had shamelessly given myself to him. Not once. But Twice. I should’ve slapped him, pushed him away the moment he kissed me at that stupid event, when his fingers were inside me like he owned me. But I didn’t. I let him in.

Christian POV The whiskey sat untouched beside me, the ice clinking quietly against the glass. My glass was half-full, the sharp burn of whiskey doing nothing to cut through the irritation gnawing at me. Not from Adrian Lockwood's spiral earlier in my office, he was a laughable pest at this point—but from the spiraling disorder I could no longer ignore. I had come home from work because I couldn’t keep my head straight from the same spiraling disorder. Ever since Red—four years ago—I hadn’t kissed a woman or fucked them face to face. I had a way I did things. Detached. Cold. I fucked from behind because it was easier. No eye contact. No intimacy. Just pleasure, brutal and simple. No one could handle what I liked in bed, and I didn’t care enough to soften it. But the rules… started breaking when a certain blonde walked into my life. Elizabeth Harper. Or should I say Elizabeth Reed? She was cracking my walls, every damn day, without even realizing it. I’d kissed her. Fucking