Chapter 6 Unspoken Rules

• "Are you going to unzip this for me, Casian, or do I have to stand here awkwardly while you stare?" Megan asked, her fingers fumbling slightly with the stubborn zipper at the back of her midnight-black dress as the heavy foyer doors clicked shut behind them.
• Casian let out a low, dangerous rumble, closing the distance between them in two long strides. "Turn around."
• Megan didn't flinch. She turned her back to him, lifting her dark hair out of the way, though her hyperosmia instantly picked up the shift in his scent—the crisp, formal cologne was now laced with a heavy, restless musk of suppressed adrenaline.
• "Careful with the silk," Megan taunted smoothly as his long fingers brushed against her bare spine, dragging the zipper down inch by inch. "Your personal shopper might charge you extra if you ruin it before our next public circus."
• Casian’s knuckles grazed her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake before his iron grip settled firmly at the small of her back. "You handled Thomas Vance surprisingly well tonight. I expected you to throw champagne in his face."
• Megan turned her head slightly, holding his dark hazel gaze over her shoulder. "I don't waste good champagne on bitter old men, Casian. Besides, a sharp knife cuts much cleaner than a blunt punch."
• Casian let out a low, gravelly chuckle, stepping closer until his chest pressed against her exposed back, completely enveloping her in his solid heat. "You enjoyed putting him in his place, didn't you? You liked playing the ruthless Mrs. Morello."
• "I enjoyed watching his face turn pale," Megan corrected softly, her pulse fluttering against her ribs as she felt the hard outline of his body against hers. "And I enjoyed seeing you back me up for once. Though I suppose you only did it to protect your own pride."
• "I did it because you belong to my side of the table now," Casian hissed softly against her temple, his lips brushing the sensitive skin right below her ear. "No one disrespects my wife in public, Megan. Not even Thomas Vance."
• "Your wife," Megan repeated, a mocking, delicate smile curving her lips despite the sudden, intense throb at her core. She turned around within his loose hold, her hands coming up to rest against his solid chest, holding the loosened silk dress up against her breasts with one arm. "Is that what I am now, Casian? Or am I still just the calculating fox from Brooklyn who stole your birthright?"
• Casian’s jaw hardened, his hazel eyes darkening to a dangerous pitch as his gaze dropped to her mouth. His hand slid from her waist up to her jawline, his fingers gripping her chin with a firm, possessive strength.
• "You are a storm I didn't see coming," Casian whispered, his thumb pressing into her lower lip until it parted slightly. "And every time I think I have you under control, you prove how unpredictable you are."
• "Control is an illusion, Mr. Morello," Megan taunted through her short, shallow breaths. She reached up, her fingers tangling into his silk tie, pulling him down until their lips were just millimeters apart. "You can buy all the shares in New York, but you can't force my heart to submit to you."
• "I don't care about your heart, Megan," Casian growled, his breathing turning heavy as his hips shifted forward, pinning her lower body firmly against the wall beside the elevator. "I care about this fire between us. This dangerous, volatile friction that makes me want to tear this dress off you right here on the concrete floor."
• "Then why don't you?" Megan challenged softly, her thighs tightening instinctively as his hard length pressed firmly against her stomach through his trousers. "Stop holding back, Casian. Show me how ruthless you really are when there are no cameras around."
• Casian’s eyes flared with unbridled, primal hunger. He let out a dark, guttural growl, his free hand sliding down her bare hip, hooking under the fabric of her dress to pull her leg up around his waist. Megan gasped, her head falling back against the wall as his mouth slammed down onto hers in a fierce, demanding kiss that tasted of rich scotch and pure dominance.
• His tongue invaded her mouth with a ruthless rhythm, claiming every inch of her, while his fingers dug into her thigh, holding her locked against his hips. Megan’s hands tightened on his shoulders, her nails digging into the fine wool of his jacket as a sudden, blinding wave of heat crashed straight through her body. She kissed him back with equal fury, biting his lower lip until he let out a low groan against her mouth.
• Casian pulled back just an inch, his chest heaving, his hazel eyes completely consumed by pitch-black lust. "You think you’re winning this game, don't you?" he rasped out, his breath hot against her swollen lips.
• "I know I am," Megan whispered back, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his. "Because even right now... you're the one begging for more."
• Casian froze, his body locking up as her words hit him like a cold bucket of water. He stared down at her flushed cheeks, her disheveled hair, and the defiant, victorious spark in her eyes. The realization that she held a powerful emotional leverage over him sent a sharp wave of anger through his system.
• Slowly, deliberately, Casian lowered her leg back to the floor. He stepped back, pulling his hands away from her skin as if she had suddenly burned him. His face hardened back into an unreadable, icy mask, though his heavy breathing betrayed the storm raging inside him.
• "Go to your room, Megan," Casian said, his voice dropping to a cold, flat register as he straightened his cuffs with steady fingers. "We have a press conference on Monday. Save your acting skills for the reporters."
• Megan smoothed down her dress, holding the silk over her chest as she took a step back toward the guest wing corridor. She held his cold, distant glare, a victorious, sharp smile lingering on her lips.
• "Goodnight, husband," Megan spoke up, her voice clear and resonant in the quiet penthouse. "Try not to dream about me too much."
• Casian didn't answer. He turned on his heel and walked toward his master suite, but as he reached his door, he stopped, his back stiffening as he called out into the dark living room.
• "Make sure you lock your door tonight, Megan," Casian growled, his voice carrying a dark, lethal threat that made her pulse leap. "Because if I walk into your room before Monday... I won't be stopping."