Chapter 26: The Night They Claimed

Harper stood in her Brooklyn apartment Saturday evening, the faint hum of the city fading as she smoothed the lines of a deep navy dress—sleeveless, fitted, the hem brushing her thighs, a bold choice for tonight's dinner with Zane Carver at 8 p.m. Her body still thrummed from this morning's penthouse walkthrough—his hands pinning her to the window, his growled I love you, her own confession sealing them together. The job was done, the penthouse theirs, and now, with no work between them, she felt the shift—nerves and want tangling in her chest, a fire ready to ignite.She'd spent the day restless, packing a small overnight bag—lingerie, toothbrush, a change of clothes—knowing she wouldn't leave his bed tonight. His promise of Bed—slow, real echoed in her mind, a vow she'd felt in every lingering touch, and she dressed to provoke, to claim what they'd danced around for weeks. Her phone buzzed—his text, curt and warm: Here. Car's waiting. She grabbed her bag, heels clicking as she descended, her pulse a steady thrum of anticipation.He stood by the black sedan, leaning against the door in a dark shirt and slacks—sleeves rolled up, collar open, his gray eyes catching the streetlights as they locked onto her. His smirk was instant, reverent, raking over the dress, lingering on her bare arms, her legs. "Fuck, Harper," he said, his voice low, opening the car door. "You're a vision.""Thought you'd like it," she replied, sliding in, the dress riding up slightly, flashing thigh as he followed, the leather seat cool against her skin. "First night's gotta count.""Damn right." His hand settled on her knee, warm and steady, as the driver pulled away, his thumb tracing circles that sent heat up her spine. "No running tonight.""No need," she said, her hand covering his, holding it there, her voice soft but sure. "I'm here."The penthouse welcomed them with warmth—soft jazz humming, the walnut table set with candles and takeout boxes, flowers fresh in their vase. He kicked off his shoes, pouring wine into two glasses, his gaze never leaving her as she shed her heels, the hardwood cool under her bare feet. Dinner was a blur—pasta, laughter, wine loosening their edges—but the air crackled, their knees brushing under the table, his foot nudging hers, a silent promise building with every glance."Done?" he asked, his voice rough, setting his glass down as she pushed her plate aside, the candles flickering between them."Done," she replied, standing, her dress catching the light as she crossed to him, her hand outstretched. "Bed?""Fuck yes." He took her hand, pulling her against him, his lips crashing into hers—a kiss deep and hungry, tasting of wine and him, a claim they'd waited too long to make. She moaned, loud and unrestrained, her hands fisting his shirt, tugging him toward the bedroom as their tongues clashed, a dance of need and love.They stumbled through the doorway, the master suite a twilight haven—silk sheets gleaming, mirrors reflecting their chaos. He kicked the door shut, backing her against it, his hands sliding to her hips, gripping tight as he kissed her harder, his teeth grazing her lip. "Love you," he growled, breaking away, his forehead pressing to hers, his breath ragged."Love you," she panted, her hands sliding under his shirt, tugging it up and off, baring his chest—hard, hot, hers. He groaned, his fingers finding the zipper of her dress, peeling it down slow, deliberate, the fabric pooling at her feet to reveal black lace—bra, panties, a garter belt she'd worn to unravel him."Fuck, Harper," he rasped, his eyes darkening, roaming over her as he shed his slacks, boxers following, leaving him bare—sculpted, pulsing, ready. She stepped out of the dress, her hands trembling as she unhooked her bra, letting it fall, her panties next, the garter last, until they stood naked, vulnerable, aching for each other."Bed," he muttered, scooping her up, her legs wrapping around his hips as he carried her to the silk sheets, laying her down, the cool fabric a shock against her fevered skin. He climbed over her, his hands pinning her wrists above her head, his mouth on her neck, kissing the fading bruise with a tenderness that clashed with the fire in his grip."Zane—" Her voice broke, a gasp as he kissed lower, his lips closing over her breast, sucking hard, his tongue flicking until she moaned, loud and shameless, her hips arching into him. He released her wrists, his hands roaming—gripping her thighs, spreading her wide as he settled between them, his breath hot against her core."Love you here," he murmured, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path, tasting her, unraveling her with every lick. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as he devoured her—lips, tongue, a growl that vibrated through her until she trembled, her climax building, a wave she couldn't hold back."Zane—please—" Her plea shattered, desperate, and he pulled back, climbing up to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his lips, fierce and messy. She clawed at his shoulders, her legs wrapping around him, and he groaned, positioning himself, the tip of him brushing her, teasing."Say it," he rasped, his eyes locked on hers, wild and sure. "Say you're mine.""I'm yours," she gasped, no fight left, just love, and he thrust into her—slow, deep, filling her completely. She cried out, her nails raking his back, and he moved, a rhythm that shook the bed, silk sheets tangling around them, mirrors reflecting their union—his muscles flexing, her legs locked around him, their bodies slick with sweat, crashing together in a dance of raw, unfiltered passion."Love you," he groaned, his voice breaking, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her as she met every thrust, her moans echoing off the walls. He flipped her, pulling her to her knees, entering her again—deeper, harder—his mouth on her shoulder, biting as she pushed back, the headboard slamming with each thrust."Zane—fuck—" Her voice broke, her hands fisting the sheets, pleasure spiking as he reached around, fingers finding her, circling, pushing her to the edge. She shattered, her climax hitting hard, a scream tearing from her throat as she clenched around him, trembling, undone. He followed, a guttural roar as he buried himself in her, his release pulsing hot and fierce, his arms banding around her as they collapsed, breathless, spent.They lay there, tangled in silk and each other, the mirrors showing a wreckage of limbs and sated love. His hand slid to her jaw, turning her face to his, and he kissed her—slow, deep, tasting of them both, a seal on their night. "Mine," he murmured, his voice rough, satisfied."Yours," she whispered, too wrecked to argue, her body still trembling with aftershocks as she curled into him, silk draping over them. He pulled her closer, his heartbeat steady under her cheek, and she let herself sink, the fight gone, the love complete—for now.Tomorrow, they'd face the world—new projects, new fights, the life they'd build—but tonight, in his bed, with his hands possessive on her skin, she didn't care. They'd claimed each other, and it was everything she'd feared and craved.