All Chapters of Sold To The Possessive Billionaire In A Suit : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Sophia’s POV“We need to get you home,” Alexander speaks, shattering the dull humming in my head.My eyes flutter open, and it’s still dark. I take a deep breath, blinking as my brain tries to piece together what just happened. One minute, his hands were on my boobs, the next, I was… I don’t know. His arms encase me against his hard chest; my legs fold on his thighs; my head rests against his shoulder. I lift my head, staring at him in the dark.I see that he drops his gaze, too. Despite the darkness, I can tell he’s looking at me. And it sends a shiver down my spine. Everything feels hazy, like a trance. But it happened. I can feel the absence of my bra. I can feel… no. I did something I’ve never done before. I experienced something for the first time—something I thought could only be felt when—“What are you thinking?” He questions, breaking my thoughts. My cheeks flame. I press my head against his chest, clenching my fingers.I know we didn’t do it. But why does it feel like I

Sophia’s POV“What was that, Sophia Rosetta?” My mom questions for the second time, her face pale as a sheet, Airpod in her fist.Mouth open, I stare at her in shock.My heart races at an alarming rate, my breaths are inconsistent—an aftermath of what I’ve just listened to, what my mom heard a portion of before I composed myself, enough to turn my phone face down.Still tingly, I tighten my legs together, pulling the sheet. My other hand grips my phone tighter.“Give me your phone.” She demands, stretching out a hand.My stomach sinks in dread, fear squeezing my chest.“Give it to me!” Her eyes well up.“M-mom?” I stutter, unable to conjure up anything else. I release the sheet and take out the other AirPod. “I-it’s not what you think.”“Not what I think?” She crosses her arms, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What do I think it is?”I bite my lower lip in response, desperately hoping for a miracle.“What in the world were you watching, Sophia? What was that? Why would my daughter watch

Sophia’s POVAn alarming thought crosses my mind—my dad is on his way home, and my mom might have started to wonder why I’m not back. But when I’m with Alexander like this, everything else fades to the background. “Soph?” He breaks the perfect stillness.“Hm,”“Open your eyes.”I shake my head thoughtlessly, arms curved around his neck.He chuckles. My mind still echoes what he whispered in my ear, while my body remains calm against his, feeling tingly and pleasant; I could stay like this for moments longer.“Just open them. It shouldn’t be that hard to look at me.”“It is.”“It is? Why?” He whispers, kissing my jaw, my cheek, and stroking my back.These are some of the reasons, but I can’t say it. He waits.I slowly lift my lids to see his face in mine. Eyes so dark, they see all of me; I can tell.My eyes fall to his lips, and a buzz begins humming through me. “It’s hard to look at me…” He mutters, breath minty. “Why is that? Wanna talk about it?” Shaking my head, I keep my eye

Alexander’s POVThe group chat’s been on fire since my marriage announcement. And here’s why:We have a pact in our friendship circle—nobody gets freaky with the other person, no matter what. For a bunch of sexually charged adults, we’ve all kept that pact flawlessly since it was established. Sophia is not one of us, but she’s been introduced to my circle. Her father is well-known. She’s the youngest person we know. She’s gentle, kind, polite, very well-behaved—although I’m discovering she has certain interesting tendencies—she’s also not a brat like outsiders make her out to be.And she’s easy on the eyes—it’s a topic I’ve heard the ladies gossip about.Since she hung out with us at Dimitri’s father’s tribute party last year, my friends keep claiming her as one of us. And for that reason, they believe I shouldn’t marry her.Dimitri was the first to say it to me in private last year; I thought he was just being protective. But someone else in our circle is using the same excuse. Whi

Sophia’s POVI slowly get up, my heart and body buzzing.There’s only one way to get to him—going around the table–the longer route.He reclines into his seat, hooded eyes shooting an ache through me. Yet I move, stepping out of my seat and turning right.My heels hit the ground softly as I go to him.I turn when I get to the end of the table, stepping into the path leading to where he’s seated on the long banquet bench.He grabs the butter-yellow fabric from the space beside him, puts it on the other side, and leans back, eyes returning to me.My stomach drops, tightening as the air feels colder.I finally get to him, and pause.“You’ll eat beside me,” he says, offering his left hand.I stare at it—large and beautifully patterned, capable of doing things to me.Slowly, I place my hand in his. His hand swallows mine, and he gently pulls me till I lower myself onto the banquet. Instantly, his heat wraps around me, mixing with his scent. He drops my hand in my lap and joins his togethe