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The Billionaire's Dangerous Claim  Novel Cover

The Billionaire's Dangerous Claim

One reckless kiss shatters every boundary she swore to keep. Bound to the cold and terrifyingly possessive Mr. Hanson by a dangerous deal, she lives caught between fear and forbidden desire, never knowing where the line truly lies. He thrives on control, yet she keeps slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he grips her. Every touch is a warning. Every whispered breath between them feels like a threat. As power and longing blur into something unrecognizable, she must decide how far she will go to survive a man who wants more than her obedience—he wants her silence, her loyalty, and her heart. Because with him, love isn't gentle. It's a weapon.
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Chapter 2

Clover's POV

He chuckled, a sound laced with cruel amusement, as his fingers trailed deliberately from my jaw down to the sensitive curve of my neck.

A violent shiver ripped down my spine, the ticklish yet electrifying sensation igniting sparks of heat across my skin.

"Is that so, Clover?" Calhoun taunted huskily, his piercing eyes fixated on my trembling lips with lustful hunger.

My breath hitched sharply when my name rolled off his tongue so seductively sweet yet laced with danger.

This was the first time he'd ever uttered it, and it sent a dark thrill coursing through me,

deepening my obsession.

He always called me 'Freckles' or 'mouse'

Overwhelmed by the intoxicating pull, I leaned in first, claiming his lips in a desperate, impulsive kiss.

Goosebumps erupted across my skin as he reciprocated immediately, his response fierce and unyielding.

This was my first kiss ever, stolen in the shadows of secrecy, and a twisted part of me was glad it was with him, if not this charming man, then who?

As our lips explored each other with growing urgency, I wrapped my arms around his neck subconsciously, pulling him closer, terrified the moment would shatter.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped me as our tongues intertwined in a heated dance, rubbing and teasing with raw intensity.

The kiss evolved swiftly from soft and exploratory to rough and harsh, devouring each other with a hunger that bordered on violence.

Our lips fused together as if we'd both harbored a dark, unspoken longing, and my yearning for him only amplified, a dangerous fire I no longer wanted to extinguish.

Even as air became scarce, lungs burning for oxygen, I refused to pull away, addicted to the feel of his thin, commanding lips sucking possessively on mine.

Finally, our lips parted, and I gasped desperately for breath, opening my eyes to find his already locked on mine, intense, unblinking.

Had he kissed me with his eyes open the entire time, watching my surrender?

Without pause, he claimed my lips again, plunging my mind into a thick, disorienting fog of desire and guilt.

Conflicting thoughts swirled chaotically,

What were we doing?

This was utterly wrong, inappropriate on every level.

Guilt crashed over me like a wave as reality intruded, he was my stepsister's fiancé, a man promised to another.

Betraying her like this should have filled me with revulsion, yet my heart throbbed with dark ecstasy and twisted fulfillment.

Why couldn't I tear my lips from his? Why did my vulnerable body crave his touch with such eager, shameful excitement?

Yes, I desired all of him, body, soul, and the darkness he embodied, but at what cost?

"This isn't right," I whispered breathlessly against his mouth during a fleeting pause.

He offered no response, only a darkening of his eyes.

Mustering every ounce of willpower, I pulled away, my body trembling from the effort.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a rare flicker of raw need crossing his features.

"I'm only making your dreams come true," he smirked mischievously, he taunted as he leaned in again, but I turned my face away, denying him.

It dawned on me then, with chilling clarity he had read me like an open book.

That CCTV... he had been watching, monitoring my every depraved act in this room.

My expression stiffened as mortifying memories flooded back, the times I'd pressed desperate kisses to his framed photographs, lost in fantasy.

That one humiliating instance when I'd lain on his bed, hand slipping toward my most private places, nearly giving in to self-pleasure while daydreaming of him.

Had he witnessed it all? The thought twisted my stomach with a mix of shame and illicit arousal.

"Mr. Hanson, you're my stepsister's fiancé," I protested weakly, clinging to the last shreds of morality.

"OK?" he replied flatly, his brows furrowing in feigned confusion, as if her existence meant nothing.

"Don't act all innocent, Clover. You're already far from it," his voice emerged hoarse and commanding as his fingers grazed my swollen lips teasingly, sending jolts of electricity through me.

I jolted violently when he yanked my head forward by the hair, crashing his lips against mine, harshly.

A second later, his hands moved with deliberate slowness, unzipping my dress.

My back quivered exposed to the room's cold air, vulnerability amplifying the dark heat building inside me.

He pulled back just enough to issue his next command "Take off your clothes."

My eyes widened in flustered shock, heart racing with a potent mix of fear, nervousness, and undeniable arousal.

My palms grew slick with sweat, my body overheating from the hot tension.

Rising shakily from his lap, I stripped off my apron and dress, letting them pool at my feet.

Now nearly bare, clad only in a strapless red bra and black underwear, I averted my gaze awkwardly, biting my lower lip hard to stifle the whirlwind of emotions.

"Quit standing still... come" he ordered in a breathy, lust-thick voice, his gaze raking over my exposed body, dark desire burning vividly in his eyes.

I'd always perceived Mr. Hanson as apathetic, his face, a mask of straight, indifference or lazy detachment.

But now, that mask cracked, revealing the raw, hungry predator beneath.

I straddled his lap obediently.

In a blur of motion, he gripped my ass firmly, raising to his feet with me in his arms.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and legs around his waist instinctively to steady myself, though his iron hold ensured I wouldn't fall as he carried me toward the bed.

He lowered me onto the sheets with deceptive gentleness before descending atop me, his weight pinning me in delicious dominance.

He captured my lips briefly before trailing hot, biting kisses down my neck.

"Umm... ah," my breath hitched sharply as he unclasped my bra and flung it aside, carelessly.

He latched onto one nipple, sucking hard while his fingers pinched and twisted the other mercilessly.

"Ah... mm," I gasped, clutching a pillow to muffle my escalating moans, but the pleasure was too intense, I couldn't silence the hums.

My body quivered uncontrollably, arousal flooding my core, soaking through with every ruthless touch.

A deep, coiling warmth built in my belly, butterflies twisted into something darker, more carnal.

Despite the air conditioning, sweat beaded on our skin from the scorching, blazing urge consuming us.

Humming in dazed pleasure, I tangled my fingers in his hair as he alternated between sucking and biting my nipples.

"Ah!" I cried out as he bit down hard on the right one, pinching the left with cruel precision, pain blending seamlessly into exquisite pleasure.

Suddenly, his hand delved into my underwear, fingers finding my slick heat.

I forgot how to breathe as one thick finger slid inside me, the invasion overwhelming, peculiar, and intoxicatingly invasive.

"Mr. Hanson... please... take it... ah... easy," I stuttered raspily, voice breaking.

He pushed deeper regardless, evoking a wince of sharp pain that mingled perversely with waves of pleasure.

Could pain and pleasure truly coexist so intensely? I'd never experienced anything remotely like this, my innocence shattered in his merciless grasp.

"Fuck..." he cursed lowly under his breath, his control fraying.

What had provoked that?

Had I displeased him?

My gaze darted nervously to the prominent bulge straining his trousers.

I looked away quickly, not from shyness, but from a weird satisfaction, knowing I affected him too, that his desire matched my shameful need.

His lips grazed my bellybutton teasingly as I bit my lip harder, suppressing moans that threatened to betray my utter surrender.

The pressure built unbearably until I shattered, climaxing slowly around his invading finger, panting heavily in release.

He withdrew his fingers with a smug smirk, holding them up, glistening with my silky, sticky essence.

Mortification burned through me; I'd come from just one finger, so easily satisfied.

Yet the fire in my body raged on, unsatisfied, craving more of his dominance.

My jaw slackened in disbelief as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with deliberate slowness, eyes locked on mine.

"Why would you... swallow it?" I whispered, flabbergasted and secretly thrilled by the depraved act.

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