บททั้งหมดของ Make Me Yours (A Steamy Collection): บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Chapter 4I nod, my body already moving with his as he takes my hand, his grip bruising. He doesn’t look back as he pulls me through the crowd; his strides are long and purposeful, and my heels click quickly to keep up. The breeze outside is so cold, almost making me shiver, but it does nothing to dampen the fire burning inside her. The fire that only this rock star could tameWe find our way back to his hotel. His hotel is close. Way too close. All throughout the elevator ride, we make out, Jaxton pinning me against the wall, his thigh forcing its way between mine, his fingers tangling in my hair as he kisses me like he’s starving. By the time the doors ping open, my dress is hiked up around my waist, my panties are soaked, and my body trembles with need.The suite is all dark wood and low lighting, the bed is fucking massive, and the sheets are already rumpled, as if he’d been waiting for this. Jaxton kicks the door shut behind us, his hands going to his belt, the buckle clinking

Chapter 6The diamond engagement ring on my finger basically laughed at me. It felt cold, heavy, like a shackle.“I hate him,” I hissed, my voice trembling with barely contained rage. “I hate all of them. How could they do this to me?” My breath came in sharp, uneven bursts, my chest rising and falling beneath the sleek, form-fitting black dress I'd been wearing. The neckline dipped just low enough to tease, the hem riding high on my thighs.Jaxton sat beside me, Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair tousled just enough to suggest he’d run his hands through it one too many times,He didn’t speak at first, didn’t offer empty sorry’s. Instead, his hand lifted, his fingers threading through my hair, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to calm me down.“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. His touch was electric, sending a jolt down my spine that made me hate myself for reacting to him.I shouldn’t want his comfort. I shouldn’t lean into his to

Chapter 2I don’t pull away. Instead, she leans into his palms, my fingers curling around his wrists, holding him there as if he’s the only thing keeping me upright. My breath hitches, my lips parting, but the words stick in my throat for a heartbeat too long. When they finally spill out, they’re raw, broken. “I love you, Dame.” My voice cracks. “I want to be with you forever. “I’m loyal to you, Aurora,” he says, his voice rough, “you know I am. But I’m not royal.” His hands drop from my face, but only to reach for the buckles of his armour. The clinks of metal hitting metal fill the silence between us as he peels off the breastplate, the pauldrons, each piece discarded with deliberate slowness. “It may not be possible for us to be together.”I watched him, my chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. The candlelight catches the sheen of sweat on his skin as he strips, defining the hard planes of his torso, the ridges of old scars, the dark trail of hair that disappears

Chapter 4The servants barely look me in the eye while they prepare me. Maybe they’re afraid they’ll see the truth… how close I am to shattering.They lace my gown until the breath leaves my chest, until I feel more like a doll than a woman. Someone pins my hair into an intricate crown of braids. Someone else brushes gold across my eyelids and murmurs, “Hold still, Princess.”Their hands move delicately. Mine shakes.The mirror shows a bride.But the girl staring back feels like she’s at her own funeral.I sit there while they fasten the final pearl, trying not to think of Dame.Dame with his storm-dark eyes.Dame with his voice that could steady me with one whisper.Dam,e who kissed me under the training bridge last summer, like he wanted to brand my soul.A knock breaks the silence.“Princess Aurora,” the guard says, “the King, your father, awaits.”I stand on unsteady legs. My skirts move around me, making me uncomfortable and overstimulated, but the doors open, and Father stands t

Chapter 1 I moved with effortless grace down the plane aisle, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor, my hips swaying just enough to make the tailored fabric of my navy-blue uniform cling to the curves of my ass. The skirt rode high enough to tease, the crisp white blouse stretched along my full breasts, the top two buttons undone, just enough to hint at the lace beneath. My auburn hair was swept into a sleek chignon, a few deliberate strands framing my face, my eyes scanning the cabin with practised ease.And then she saw him.Seated in 1A, his long legs stretched out with the arrogance of a man who owned the world, was Bill Dubois. His dark, wavy hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d just run his fingers through it, and his sharp jawline was dusted with the faintest shadow of stubble. He was an heir; everyone knew who he was. The tailored charcoal suit he wore hugged his broad shoulders, the fabric straining just enough over his muscular thighs. His cufflinks glinte