The Real Heiress Rules the World (Sloane Rivers) novel Chapter 337

Chapter 337 Cancel The Meeting

Chapter 337 Cancel The Meeting

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Sloane pondered. As for how Samantha had managed to fool so many people, that remained a mystery.

“Tomorrow I’ll have Andrew look into this more thoroughly,” Lucas said, turning to Sloane. “What about you? What’s your next move?”

Sloane swirled the glass in her hand; the ice clinked with a crisp sound. “For now, I’ll stay put. I’ve written to my master to ask about my uncle. I’ll wait for his reply before making any decisions.”

Lucas gave a slight nod, his gaze darkening as it lingered on her face. Just as she was about to speak, he suddenly reached out. His long fingers encircled her slender wrist with a light but deliberate touch.

Sloane’s breath caught as Lucas drew her hand slowly toward him. The glass tilted, the dark red wine shifting inside, casting fractured glimmers of light across his sharp features.

He kept his eyes locked on hers, lips parting slightly as he took a sip from the glass still in her hand. His Adam’s apple moved with the swallow. A single drop of wine clung to the corner of his mouth, catching the light with an enticing sheen.

“Sweet,” he murmured. His voice was deeper, richer than the wine itself. His thumb brushed against her wrist, the heat of his skin burning into hers until her fingers trembled; she almost lost hold of the glass.

Their gazes tangled at close range, the air thick with the fragrance of red wine mingled with the clean, resinous scent clinging to him. The rain outside fell heavier, yet it couldn’t drown out the thunderous rhythm of her heartbeat.

“Lucas…” she whispered, only to have her words cut off the next second when his mouth claimed hers. The kiss carried the fire of alcohol and the hunger of long-suppressed desire. His tongue pressed past her lips, sweeping through with an urgency that left her breathless.

Sloane’s fingers tightened around the glass involuntarily, her knuckles blanching from the strain.

Outside, raindrops traced winding paths down the glass window, echoing the erratic pounding of her heart. Lucas’ hand slid down to her lower back, pulling her more firmly against him.

His kiss deepened suddenly, and the glass in her hand finally gave way; it slipped and fell with a sharp crack onto the Persian carpet, the dark red wine spreading in a swift, blooming stain.

“The glass…” Sloane braced her hands against Lucas’ chest, trying to push him back just a little.

“Forget it.” His breath was ragged as he pressed her against the table. Beyond the window, the curtain of rain blurred the world outside, refracting the room’s intimate glow into fractured, shimmering patterns.

Sloane tilted her head back, surrendering as his lips trailed to her neck. A tiny red mole there drew his teeth irresistibly. The gentle bite made her shudder from head to toe.

Sloane’s soft moan broke free, edged with a tremor she couldn’t contain. Her hands, once intent on pushing him away, now clutched at his shirt instead, her fingertips white from the force,

Lucas’ breath grew hotter, fanning over her delicate skin. His lips marked a trail downward from the mole, as though he meant to fuse her into his very bones.

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6:41 pm P PPP.

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