Married To The Thorn In My Flesh

Sophia’s POV

He breaks our kiss, hands stilling on my thighs. 

I lock gaze with him, seeing how dark and dilated his pupils have turned. 

He’s panting just as I am. His face is frozen—an expression of shock I don’t miss.

My body trembles, but I shake my head weakly, letting him know I can’t. 

He withdraws his hands quickly.

But as my arms go around his neck, he grips my waist, lifting me suddenly.

“I don’t…”

His lips press against the soft swell of my chest. My heart kicks hard, my words melting into an inhale.

I coil in pleasure, releasing a deep breath as my head drops.

“You’re a fantastic kisser.” He murmurs, breathy, hands shaking on my waist.

The compliment sends a curl up my stomach. But it’s the kisses he keeps pressing that steal my brain cells. They’re soft, intentional—like he’s memorizing the shape of me.

“A-Alexander…” My voice is barely mine, thin and trembling.

His grip at my waist firms, his breathing settles, and he gently sits me back in his lap. 

“Let’s take our time getting used to each other,” he says as he pulls me close, voice deep and uneven.

My eyes stay closed, my chest pounds. Strength eludes me.

“You good?” He questions while stroking my back with gentleness. 

But my head is blank. I drag in his scent, letting it permeate my senses. 

Minutes pass.

And by the time my body calms, I’m still in Alexander Thorne’s arms, on his lap, in his penthouse.

The realization that I’ve just kissed the man who’s been passing through my mind from January up until last week starts to sink in. It’s heart fluttering.

I’ve never been kissed so recklessly. So beautifully.

He’s calm. Too calm, still stroking my back. His breath moves softly against my hair.

My mind drifts to my parents, and guilt settles in my chest, squeezing. If they were to find out what I’ve just done, my punishment would be worse than getting grounded for weeks.

But it’s been eight long months. 

Since I got back from London last month, I’ve been hoping to run into him at least once, been looking forward to next week when I will see him again, unfailingly. 

Shy, I fold my lips and shift in his embrace. 

And there it is again—sharp. Firm.

His chest jerks. A controlled, involuntary twitch.

I slowly peel myself off him.

“What is it?” He asks, calm as ever.

I just stare, unable to utter what I felt.

“Do you find them uncomfortable?”

Them?

I search his eyes. “W-what’s that?” 

“What’s what?” A teasing smirk curves on his lips, left brow lifted.

“On your…” 

The words die in my throat.

He raises his brow higher, waiting, knowing.

Then, “What do they feel like?” His hands slide to the small of my back in slow warmth.

My cheeks flame.

And he lets out a soft chuckle. “You know what they are, Soph. That’s why you’re turning all red.”

I drop my gaze because he’s staring too intensely. But then I see it—the faint raised outlines under his shirt. Impossible to unsee.

“They’re my nipple rings.”

My breath fractures. My eyes lock on his chest, refusing to move.

Silence. Thick and stuffy.

Suddenly, the bell chimes. 

But I’m paralyzed in place, glued to him, eyes fastened where metal should not be. Outlines I didn’t notice earlier. Outlines I couldn’t possibly have noticed, because he’s a man I’ve only ever seen in suits. 

“That must be Garvey with your clothes and dinner,” he murmurs.

His nipples are pierced?! Pierced!

And my boobs kept brushing against… them?!

My imagination goes feral immediately. My heart trembles.

“Your father is calling, Sophia.”

But all I hear is: Nipple rings. danger. And who the heck is this freak I’ve just let kiss me?!

“Sophia?” He calls.

I snap out of my daze. My eyes lift from his chest, away from those outlines. 

“Your father?”

“What?!” I jolt, already crawling off him. 

“Come here,” he drags me back fast. 

I lose half a second of air as I’m forced back in his lap.

“Don’t go until I say so.” He says, tone hoarse, eyes darkening. 

My body stills. I stare, swallowing hard without knowing why.

“It’s just you and me here…” He takes my chin, teasing a sinful smile as he leans in. “Where are you running off to?”

I shut my eyes, folding, only for him to kiss my nose. It tickles.

The bell rings again.

I open my eyes to see how calm he remains, holding his phone.

My father’s name floats on the screen. 

“Should I answer it? Your call.”

I stare at it until it stops ringing. Heat knots in my chest. The heat of guilt.

My eyes shift to his. They’re filled with delicious rebellion.

The bell rings longer this time. 

And in a few seconds, the door clicks open and slams shut.

“Alexander, I should get up,” I murmur, not liking the idea of being seen like this—in his lap, wearing his clothes, and probably looking disheveled. Even if it’s just his chauffeur, whom I don’t know.

He releases his grip on me.

“Alex?!” A voice suddenly echoes. A familiar voice.

I wheeze, locking my eyes back with Alexander’s.

“Dimitri.” He voices my thought, eyes rounding for a second.

Oh my god.

I fly off him in a flash, rolling onto the floor.

Why is Dimitri here?

“Alex?! Where are you, Man?” Dimitri yells, getting close.

I scramble to my feet, grabbing my slippers, trembling with fear.

“In there.” Alexander hisses, pointing to a dark space. 

I run on the tips of my toes.

“Hey,”

I look over my shoulder to see him throwing my purse.

I catch it surprisingly and keep running for my life and sanity.

My clothes! 

But it’s too late.

I catch a glimpse of Dimitri before I slip into the dark room.

My chest thuds rapidly as I lean against the wall. I press a hand over my mouth, stifling my quick breaths.

“I keep forgetting to change my passcode,” Alexander greets.

“Hey, Man! Why didn’t you come get the door?”

It grows silent for a moment, then Dimitri speaks:

“I’m interrupting something. Am I not?”

No response.

“I saw a pair of Manolo Blahnik heels at the door… are those her clothes?”

I palm my eyes, praying silently.

“You’re being nosy, Man,” Alexander responds dryly.

“Because you’ve never brought a woman into your penthouse.”

What?

“And it looks like you’ve been up to no good,” Dimitri adds.

“I’m always up to no good.”

I hear them slap their hands together.

“You didn’t inform me of your coming,”

“I did. You were probably busy getting all… Wow! Is she someone we know? I’m so curious—”

“Don’t you have a wedding to plan, Dimitri?”

“You invited her into your space? God, Alex… this is - this is new. Is she in here somewhere?”

The bell chimes.

“Is that her?” Dimitri is unrelenting.

My eyes roam in the dark, sweat prickling my skin. I listen to their slippers hitting the ground.

“That’s Garvey.”

“That means she’s here!”

“Why are you so nosy? You’re not drunk.” Alexander evades confirming anything.

“Being mysterious again, huh?” Dimitri murmurs. 

He says nothing.

I hear their retreating footsteps. Then Dimitri continues,

“I’m marrying Lena next week—”

“For the THIRD time. Don’t tell me you’re nervous?”

“You swore never to get married, so you’ll never know how it feels…”

I slowly slide down the wall to crouch, releasing my mouth and a long breath. Their voices get muffled and fade.

Alexander swore never to get married?

My heart races. My mind is processing a lot at the same time. A lot about Alexander and how pathetic I feel hiding in here. 

I recall the call I had with Dimitri in January, after he sent me a cropped photo of Alexander and me from the party on New Year’s Eve.

He’d asked if something was going on between us. I’d said no. Next, he asked if I liked Alexander. 

I’d barely answered when he said, “Alexander is not the type of man you’d want. Stay away, Sophia.”