CHAPTER 152
The invitation was a match dropped into a room filled with gasoline. Lucian didn't hesitate anymore; the last fraying thread of his legendary, centuries-old restraint didn't just break.
It snapped with the violent finality of a bridge collapsing under the weight of an impossible storm.
The air in the suite seemed to implode. Lucian's hand, which had been resting tentatively and with agonizing caution on the small of her back, slid upward with a possessive speed that made her skin tingle and her breath hitch.
Using his fingers that were tangled deep into the damp silk of her hair, he tilted Isabella's head back at an almost punishing angle, a move of pure dominance that exposed the long, elegant line of her throat to the dim light and his burning gaze.
