Claimed by the billionaire
His explanation hung in the air, too neat, too easy, as if he could dismiss my hurt with a few words.
I furrowed my brows, my gaze sharpening as I stared up at him. “Are you defending her?”
“Of course not,” Christian said, his voice a low, velvet growl that sent a shiver racing down my spine. He stepped closer, his broad frame looming over me, pinning me against the bedroom door without even touching it. His body was all heat and muscle, stealing the air from my lungs. Then his hand came up, his fingers—damn those sleek, perfect fingers—brushing my cheek, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to burn me alive with every touch. Goosebumps erupted across my skin, my body turning traitor, tin