Chapter 20
twenty
My two glasses of wine turns into two bottles.
Well, not really, since those bottles are shared among three of us. But still, I have twice what I originally planned to drink.
Luckily, I’m prepared to blame it squarely on Graham.
Specifically, Graham flirting with Tris and, occasionally, Alice. The fact that he feels he has to bestow equal attention upon Tris’ roommate so she won’t be upset—because, in his mind, he is clearly the biggest catch ever —only underscores his arrogant jackassery.
So why does it make me insanely jealous?
Possibly because, the more she drinks, the more Tris flirts back. By the time we pour out the final glasses from our second bottle, I realize: Her disdain for Graham is a front. She’s attracted to him, too.
How could she not be?
Why is any of this a problem for me?
While Tris and Alice giggle over one of Graham’s funny stories, I take a bitter slug of my wine and slide from my chair. “I’ll be right back,” I mumble.
A line in the hallway thwarts my plan to pop into the ladies’ room and regroup. I don’t really need to pee, but I wait anyway, biding my time behind several women until I find myself alone in the narrow, unlit stretch that leads to the back exit.
I’m eyeing the door, considering my options, when a voice comes from behind me.
Right behind me.
“You, too, huh?” Graham rumbles into my ear.
My spine stiffens while my throat goes dry, turning my words into a rasp. “Me, too?”
“Saw you looking at the exit,” he explains, drifting into my line of sight. “I had the same idea. But I suppose I should be polite and let the others down gently, right?”
I do my best to act cool. “A gentleman would,” I sniff, inspecting my nails. Suddenly I’m pissed and spoiling for a fight. “Unless you want to take Tris home. It seems like she’d be willing.”
His hands surprise me, finding my hips and slowly sliding up to the gold chain belting my waist. “Now, now, bijou ,” he murmurs, leaning close. “No need to break out your claws. You know I only want to take home one woman here.”
His thumbs draw circles on either side of my navel, sending a quiver down my legs. “What are you doing?” I ask. “We agreed no more.”
Graham shakes his head slowly. “We agreed we wouldn’t pretend,” he argues. “So don’t act like you haven’t felt this heat building for the last two hours.” He raises one slashing brow, midnight eyes glinting. “Unless I’m mistaken?”
The question hangs between us, floating in the space between his sculpted mouth and mine. An expensive blend of scotch and his usual spice blurs my already-muddled mind.
I’m too tipsy to remember to act indifferently, especially when his warmth washes over me and pools between my legs. My chest rises and falls faster as my breathing picks up.
Graham notices. His gaze, dark and hot, traces over my cleavage. He looms closer. “Am I, Jules?” he asks, deceptively soft. “Mistaken?”
I swallow a whimper, not wanting him to hear. “Even if you aren’t,” I breathe. “It doesn’t matter. We work together.”
His lips quirk form the ghost of a smile. Glittering eyes trail down to my collarbone at the same moment he raises one of his hands to the hollow above my sternum. Feather-light touch traces over the ridge of my clavicle, instantly hardening my nipples. An audible breath stutters out of me.
“Not anymore,” he counters, smiling more at my reaction to him. “After tomorrow morning, our business will officially be over. Once those contracts are signed, you won’t see me again.”
My throat clenches closed, trapping the single word that comes to mind.
No .
“This still isn’t a good idea,” I contend, though I hear my own reluctance.
The hand at my waist slips around to brush over the small of my back. “My bijou ,” he hums. “Always so sharp and full of fire. I bet you have a lot of rules for yourself, don’t you?”
I hate the patronizing drawl in his voice. “No,” I spit, lifting my chin to glare at him. “Only one.”
Carajo .
I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it’s too late. Damn the wine .
“One rule,” he repeats, pinning me with those black eyes.
His dark velvet depths are magnetic. Something in them connects with the fluttering sensation stretched taut in my belly. I feel like I’ve been hypnotized. Words fall from my lips without much resistance. “I could only sleep with you once.”
That shuts him up.
He goes still, with one hand flat against my tailbone and the other settled into the curve of my neck. His breath gusts against my lips as he stares right into me, completely immobile.
“Come again?”
I smirk at his unintentional double entendre. “That’s my whole point: You won’t come again.”
My laughter breaks his trance. He finally moves, grabbing both of my hips and pulling me flush against his body while he frowns down at me.
“Only once ? Dear God— why ?”
I lift one shoulder, aiming for blasé. “One time. It’s my rule.”
Graham’s fingers tighten, biting into my ass. “So, you don’t sleep with people more than once unless you’re dating them?”
My foggy brain thinks back through all of the faces of my former lovers—the ones I recall, at least—checking to be sure I don’t make a liar of myself before I shake my head. “No. That’s my point. I don’t date because I never sleep with anyone more than once.”
He looks incredulous. “ Never ? Ever?”
“Never ever.”
I expect frustration or badgering. Instead, concern fills his features, making him impossibly more handsome. He cups one hand around my jaw, his voice almost… soft. “Why not, bijou ?”
I’ve never explained it out loud. Most of the men I slept with knew they stood firmly within one-night-stand territory before things ever got physical. We met on dating apps and in clubs. I only went home with them if they had their own places. And I left as soon as we were done.
Because if I sleep with someone more than once, I might start to like them.
Because I never want to belong to anybody.
Because I’ve watched what happens when women trust men who don’t deserve it.
And I have to do better .
“It’s easier,” I offer simply.
“Easier?” He presses his forehead into mine while his thumb skirts my lower lip. “How could any man only have you once? That doesn’t sound easy; it sounds impossible .”
A fresh round of flutters warms my middle. I don’t know if it’s the wine or his proximity, but I can’t squash them. I find myself leaning into his hand, enjoying the way his long, strong fingers hold my face.
I love everything about the way he feels, actually. Especially when he shifts, putting one of his legs between mine and grinding his erection into my right hip. The solid weight starts a steady pulse in my pussy. It clenches, longing to tighten around his length.
Dios mío .
I’m in a bar with coworkers . Why don’t I care about getting caught or being kicked out? Why can’t I care about anything aside from him ?
“This is dangerous,” I whisper, turning my head to graze his palm with my open mouth. “We’re combustible.”
Graham's eyes follow my lips. “A match and a stick of dynamite?”
I’ve known from the moment I slapped him in the elevator—his antagonism brings out the worst, most volatile parts of me. All the heat I fight so hard to hide bursts out. I’ve been working overtime to bottle it all back up since.
“It’s your fault. You’re the match.”
“You are dynamite,” he agrees, brushing a smile over my cheek.
His stubble makes my breasts tingle. I strain closer, trying to rub myself against his chest. His hand slips back to the nape of my neck.
My resistance wavers. I whisper his name. “ Graham .”
Before I draw my next breath, his lips seal over mine.
It isn’t like our scorching moment in office Pod C. This kiss doesn’t plunder or demand. It’s a gift—slow and sensuous. Almost… sweet.
Graham coaxes my mouth open and slides inside, gently cradling the back of my head while our tongues meet. The luxurious vapor of scotch fills my senses, and I stretch up onto my toes, deepening our connection while he licks into me.
My fingers make short work of his jacket buttons, grabbing handfuls of his silk vest. He presses closer, humming his approval while stroking up the curve of my hip to cup my breast. Tingles tremble through my chest, wracking me with a shudder. I sink my teeth into his lower lip with a punishing nip.
His tenderness evaporates on the spot. He bites me back, then thrusts into my mouth with a possessive plunge. I suck his tongue, refusing to surrender.
My defiance only makes him hotter. He fists the loose hair at my nape and tugs, capturing me for more rough kisses. I let him hold my head still, but squirm against his body, purposefully rubbing my side into his erection until the steely prod of his cock settles into the sensitive spot between my hip and my pussy, his hardness melding perfectly with my softness.
Graham breaks away on a groan, panting. “Fucking hell,” he growls softly, pulling back to look into my eyes. “We are combustible.” He teases me with another stir of his hips. “Just give me one night, bijou . Let me show how good it can be.”
One night ?
It’s so… Graham . Never one to agree to a first offer, he has to push for a little more. Negotiating, even when he doesn’t realize it.
And, insanely, I don’t want to turn him down. As he frames my face with both hands and sweeps a stray hair off my forehead, I realize I’m not even sure I can .
Obviously, I want him. Badly. He’ll know I’m lying if I say otherwise. And what’s the point in denying it? He’s right—after tomorrow, we won’t work together anymore.
Besides… I feel like I might go crazy if I don’t have him inside of me.
I tilt my head back, eyeing him with all the starch I can muster while enveloped in his arms. “Fine.”
His eyebrows lift. “Fine?”
I give a single nod. “Yes. One night. Not tonight, though. It has to be after tomorrow, when our business is done.”
Graham’s cock twitches against my belly. He grinds his jaw. “Saturday night. All night.”
He kisses me again. Another slow, enticing brush of his lips over mine.
The fight drains out of me all at once. Graham gives a low rumble at my surrender, gently combing both of his hands into my hair. His fingertips massage my scalp while he nuzzles his forehead into mine.
He issues a command, but his breathless voice turns it into a plea. “Come over at seven.”
A hopeless laugh escapes me. “At the rate we go, we’ll be done by 7:10.”
Graham’s heated smile melts my amusement. “Oh, bijou ,” he sighs. “Don’t count on it. If I only get you for one night, I plan to take full advantage. Come at seven, and I’ll order us dinner.” He presses a kiss to my temple before leaning back. “You’ll need your energy for what I have in mind.”
With that, he pulls away. Tossing me one last boyish grin, Graham stalks to the rear exit and leaves me panting against the wall all over again.