Page 22

chapter thirteen

Jillian

T he book.

That could be my excuse for walking back up Graham’s walkway. My book was still on the floor in his foyer, drying on a vent. He’d probably think I forgot it on purpose, but when my knuckles met his heavy wooden door, I no longer cared.

Please, please, please.

What was I even begging for? What exactly did I want him to do when he opened that door?

His words from the night before repeated in my mind: “Some men don’t need an instruction manual.”

And some men, when you knock on their front door after a kiss that ended too soon, know exactly what to do.

They anticipate your needs before you can even form the thought yourself.

And they pull you into their dark foyer, pin you against the door, and fill your mouth with their tongue before you can even get out the words, “I forgot something.”

My purse dropped to the floor, and I smiled against Graham’s mouth, his tongue gliding over mine as his hands traced down my back. “I’m trying to be good,” he said before cupping my ass and lifting my body, “but this dress is making it so damn hard.”

Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, crossing my feet at the ankles as my back pressed flat against the door. “I know,” I said, breathless as he kissed my neck. “I can tell.”

And I could.

Oh, how I could tell.

Graham buried his face against my collarbone, his hot tongue tracing a line along my skin while his erection pressed against my center. “Tell me you’re not still drunk from last night,” he said against my skin in a desperate whisper.

I held his face in my hands, making him look at me. “I fantasize about you sober. All the time.”

Those must’ve been the magic words. His mouth crashed into mine again, eager and urgent, his body pinning me harder against the door.

I ran my fingers through his hair, giving it the gentlest tug.

Graham growled against my mouth, and I could feel his restraint slipping even more.

“You have no idea how badly I need you right now,” he said, his voice rough and breathless as he reached back, removing each of my shoes, throwing them aside.

I tightened my legs around his waist, my fingers resting on the back of his head. “I’m all yours, Graham,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his.

Nothing else existed in that moment. We weren’t CEO and employee. We were just Jillian and Graham—two people satisfying a need.

Graham kissed me again, slower this time, as he lowered me to the floor. “Bedroom?” he whispered, studying my eyes like he was looking for hesitation.

Well, he wasn’t going to find it.

“Yes, sir.”

Those words might have just been playful when I’d said them before, but they meant something different now. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips before he took me by the hand and led me up the stairs.

He nudged me into his bedroom, and I was on him before the door even closed all the way.

His hands roamed the front of my dress as he kissed me, and my fingers found the buttons of his shirt.

I paused to grin at him in the dim lamplight, taking my time with each button like I was unwrapping a present.

When the fabric parted, my eyes traveled from the tuft of chest hair down to his solid abs.

“Tell me how to get this dress off of you,” he told me. I turned around, gathering my hair up in one hand.

“There’s a zipper.”

I caught sight of myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on his closet door, my hair wild, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen from kissing.

What a mess. None of it seemed to bother Graham, who kissed my neck as he slowly tugged the zipper down the center of my back.

I slipped my arms out of the cap sleeves, and as the dress slid down my body, I reached behind me to touch the back of his neck.

He unhooked my strapless bra, and it fell to the floor, leaving my breasts bare to the cool air. My nipples peaked from the sudden exposure—and from the feel of his gaze on them in the mirror.

But he didn’t touch them yet. He tugged my panties down, too, and held my hands to steady me as I stepped out of them.

Now I was totally naked before him, the warmth of his bare chest against my back.

His chin rested on my shoulder as his hands traveled around the front of me, gliding over the curves of my breasts.

“Look at you,” he said, his fingers grazing my sensitive nipples.

I stared at his hands in our reflection, his thumbs pressing over my hard peaks. “Look at us,” I said, the heat from his hands sending a spark down my core. I was torn between wanting him to throw me down on the bed and needing him to take his time.

Graham chose the latter, his right hand splayed across my stomach as it drifted lower.

I turned my head against his chest, hungry to taste his mouth again.

He kissed me slowly and deliberately, like he wanted to savor every second of it.

I opened my eyes when I felt the fingers of his free hand curl around my chin.

He turned my face back toward the mirror with quiet force and brought his mouth close to my ear, his hot breath making me shiver.

“Watch,” he commanded, his grip still firm on my chin.

Graham’s other hand drifted lower down the front of my body, dipping between my thighs.

With his thumb and pinkie, he parted my legs just enough to touch me exactly where he wanted.

I drew in a sharp inhale when his fingers slid over me, easing me apart to touch my clit with two fingers.

I reached behind me with my free hand and gripped his jeans, letting out an uncontrollable, squeaky gasp.

Those two fingers moved in circles as he pressed his lips to the side of my neck.

“I want to see you unravel,” he said.

I already felt like I was melting from his touch, with one arm locked around my waist as his other hand worked my clit with a slowness that was both agonizing and pleasurable. Graham traced kisses along my shoulder and then, tightening his grip around my body, he slipped a finger inside of me.

“Fuck, Graham,” I moaned. I was watching us in the mirror, but he was staring at me, smiling in satisfaction. My head tipped back against his chest, but I didn’t take my eyes off of us. When he slid a second finger in, I gripped his pants harder, my breath catching in my throat.

“Do you like watching my fingers disappear inside of you, Jillian?”

My name on his lips combined with the sinful sound of his fingers going in and out made me cry out in desperation. I moved my hand to the back of his head, tugging at his hair as his fingers continued their slow torment.

It felt incredible, but I wanted more. I wanted all of him. “Graham, I need more. I…” I started, barely able to get the words out between shallow breaths. “I want…”

“I know,” he said, his breath hot against my neck. He slowly withdrew his fingers. “I’ve got you. Come on.” He positioned himself in front of me, nudging me backward toward the bed with his hands on my hips. I felt the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed and sank down onto the mattress.

I tugged at the open flaps of his shirt, and he pulled it the rest of the way off.

I reached for him again, my hands running along the hard lines of his stomach until they found the button of his jeans.

My eager, fumbling fingers weren’t as quick as his.

He unfastened them and tugged them down his hips.

His boxers did nothing to hide how ready he was as he kicked the jeans away.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I stared up at Graham’s face from the edge of the mattress. Not a seductive or sultry smile, either—I was giddy. Elated. Because this was finally happening. He was happening. It didn’t feel real.

Graham hovered above me, his own expression softening into a grin as he delicately touched my cheek with one hand. His eyes twinkled in the dim light, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real, either.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice low.

While he was distracted by my eyes, I reached up with both hands and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, yanking them down with ease.

The tender moment was over. His boxers hit the floor, and his erection sprang free, stealing the breath from my lungs.

Talk about beautiful , I thought, my mouth suddenly dry.

I reached for him without giving it a second thought, wrapping my hand around his shaft. I stroked up and down the length of him a couple of times, gazing up into his eyes.

Before I could do more, Graham gently caught me by the wrist. “Lie back on the bed,” he commanded.

I did as I was told, scooting back on the plaid, black comforter as I watched him disappear into the bathroom.

I kicked away the comforter, sinking into the soft gray sheets that felt cool against my skin.

He returned a few seconds later, condom in hand, already stretching it over the length of him as he walked toward me.

I didn’t even have to ask.

I bit my lip as he approached me on the bed, pressing my thighs together tight because I wanted to feel him pry them apart.

And that he did, with a roughness I wasn’t expecting.

With his hands under my knees, he yanked me toward him, parting my legs around him.

He teased my entrance with the tip of his cock, lowering his body close to mine.

I tilted my head back on the pillow, my eyes drifting shut until I heard him say, “Eyes on me.”

I obeyed. “Yes, sir,” I said, gasping as he pushed into me. He took his time, stretching me slowly as he filled me inch by inch.

And everything else faded until there was only him.