Chapter 5 #2
Dinner was a multi-course gourmet meal. Champagne and sparkling cocktails came with the arrival of the appetizers, followed by tiny portions of high-end meats and desserts.
Graham shoved his fork through his salad, unimpressed. “Who puts gold leaf in rabbit food?”
“No kidding, I could really go for a burger,” I said, glaring at the lobster bisque in front of me. “I hate seafood.”
He barked a short laugh. “Christ, you’re perfect.”
Perfect. Right. Perfect for hiding a curse under a five-hundred-dollar dress. Perfect for sitting next to a man I'd ruined and another I was actively ruining. If perfect meant a walking disaster with good bone structure, sure. I'd take the trophy.
It felt like dinner dragged on forever. Hunter never sat down. Tiny tastes of extravagance kept appearing before me, turning me off from anything related to glam and ritz.
“xXPrettygirl47?” A woman in a rhinestone-drenched gown slid between Katie and me.
“Y-yes?”
“Ever considered a collab? You’d be perfect with Ricki Denatori.”
Katie snorted. “Isn’t he the guy who shoves weird things up his ass—and the girls’ too?”
Graham’s fork clattered against his plate. “Jesus Christ.”
My eyes went wide. Derek half-choked on his drink.
“I don’t do butt stuff,” I blurted.
“Shame. He’s dying to work with you.” She moved on to Graham, placing her hand on his arm. “What about you, big boy? Ready to make your mark in the industry?”
Graham leaned back slowly, eyes hard. “Already got the only job I want—her.” His smirk cut right through her. “No offense, but I don’t get involved with the ass-bandit crowd either.”
The lady left in a huff. I looked to Graham as he swirled his drink in the stout tumbler and mouthed, “Oh, my God!”
He shrugged, then his face went serious, jabbing his finger at my wrist where makeup and silicone bandages hid the scars. “We’re talking about those—later,” he growled.
My gaze snapped to Derek. He shrugged, face flat. Little prick.
I let out a breath that sounded nothing like composure—daggers shot from my gaze, aimed directly at him.
What? I wasn’t allowed to have a breakdown? That was only for big burly men who bottle everything until they implode? Jesus.
I swung back to Graham. “So what—sometimes I need pain as a break from reality, okay? I was hurt and I needed a way to let it out. It happened. It’s over and—”
“Not here.” Graham cut me off, closing his hand around mine and hauling me up out of my chair, dragging me out the side door.
“Don’t lecture me like you’ve been here for me. I—”
Before I could finish my sentence, he shoved me back against the rough brick and crushed his mouth over mine. His hands locked on my waist, tugging me in until I could feel every inch of him.
The casino’s noise dulled the second the door clicked shut, leaving just his breath, my racing heart, and that brutal heat between us.
Graham broke the kiss just long enough for his breath to scrape my lips. “Look at me, Maggie. Don’t ever do it again.”
The growl rattled through me, his stare burning into me. Then he crashed back in, kissing me with a hunger that burned like wildfire, unstoppable.
His command seared into me. My defiant instinct was stolen before my brain could even argue.
I melted against him, ignoring my better judgment. God, I’d missed this. I missed him and the pull that felt inevitable, like gravity—like I was made to fall right there. My lips clung to his, my body already betraying me as I palmed his throbbing bulge behind his zipper.
Still, Hunter’s name flickered at the edge of my mind—but I shoved it down. Just for another second of Graham.
He pressed in harder, the rough brick at my back grounding me as his knee slid between my thighs, claiming space that made my breath catch.
My pulse stuttered—
—and then something firmer shifted against my thighs, unmistakable even through the layers, the heat of it sending a sharp, electric awareness straight through me.
And I moved—just enough. Just enough that he’d feel what I wanted.
His mouth didn’t leave mine for long. When it did, it dragged down my throat, slow and consuming, before finding its way back like he couldn’t stay away.
Each kiss unraveled something I’d been holding too tight.
I gave in—just a little—rocking forward and back, chasing the pressure, the friction, the almost of what could happen. He pressed in again, rubbing himself against me.
A broken sound slipped out before I could stop it.
“Graham—I—”
His hands tightened at my hips, pulling me harder against him, guiding my hips, grinding my pussy onto him. The world narrowed to just the heat and breath and the way my body stopped following its orders.
Oh, God. I wanted to come right then, right on his thigh, leaving my mark so he’d have a reminder of what he threw away.
Then the sharp rasp of his zipper broke through it. My eyes flew open, and reality hit like ice.
“Graham—” My voice cracked as I pushed against his chest, breath uneven. “Stop.”
Everything stilled.
The night rushed back in around us—cool air, distant noise, the hard line of the wall at my back.
He braced one arm above my head, holding himself there, close enough that I could still feel his heart beating in his chest.
Not touching.
Not moving.
Just watching me from under his brow.
And somehow, that restraint hurt worse than if he hadn’t stopped at all.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered. “Not like this.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze—drowning in those storm-dark eyes for one reckless heartbeat. My fingers brushed his cheek, lingering longer than they should have.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Come over tonight. It’ll take the edge off.” I let out a breath. “I owe it to Hunter to follow his rules.”
For a second, he didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Like something in him was deciding whether he would remain standing or crumble to ash.
His chest rose slowly, then again—sharper this time, like he was dragging air through fire. The heat between us didn’t fade—it coiled, unsure if it wanted to ignite or go out.
His hand lifted, stopping just short of my waist like he couldn't quite stop himself, but he didn't touch me, just let out a long, controlled breath like I had forced him back into his cage.
Slowly, he let it fall.
The sound of his zipper closing cut clean through the space between us.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low, roughened at the edges. His jaw flexed once. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules.”
His eyes were still on my lips when he stepped back, and I walked away from him. It was like trying to breathe underwater.
I gave Graham a minute to pull himself together, let things simmer down before I pushed the door open into the casino.
Hunter spotted me instantly and swooped in, voice clipped with irritation.
“Where in the bloody hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere.
We’re on in—” He flicked his watch. “Three minutes!” His hand grabbed my arm tighter than I preferred as his eyes dropped to my mouth before he steered me backstage.
“We’re announcing several categories tonight, and I need you focused. This is my night. Don’t embarrass me.”
Embarrass him? His night? I thought it was our night. And what about my award?
“Okay—?” My jaw clenched, and I suddenly was hot, nauseous, and slightly perturbed. Ahh—yes, the familiar stress response I’d get when Mom insisted I change my clothes because pentagram necklaces and dark eyeliner weren’t “Christian” enough for her.
“Oh—and mo chróí …” Hunter gestured to my face. “Fix your mouth… you’ve messed up your lipstick.”
I pulled out my phone and flipped on the selfie camera with a hasty swipe.
Shit!
When the time came, I slipped on a practiced smile and followed Hunter onto the stage. The lights were too bright, too warm—pressing in, demanding a performance—but I didn’t have one. My spine held straight, breaths even.
Controlled.
My gaze skimmed the front tables, over polished porn stars and camera-ready smiles, all of them waiting for their names to be called like it actually meant something other than they looked great while they fucked.
Graham had reappeared at the table, all easy posture and careless charm, like I hadn’t just dry humped his thigh in a back alley. He nodded along to something Katie was saying, glass tipped lazily in his hand, but his focus never wavered.
It was still on me.
That look hadn’t softened. If anything, it settled deeper into a quieter, heavier smolder that was waiting for the tiniest spark to ignite.
It wasn’t a look of hunger. No… something slower than that.
Patience. Like he already knew how this ended, because he was the wolf watching its prey after a long, frigid winter… and I was the only thing he wanted.
My fingers tightened around the envelope as I jerked my attention back to Hunter, now at the podium waiting for the nominees.
Deep breath.
Focus, Maggie.
I barely had time to step forward before my toe snagged the hem of my dress.
My ankle rolled, and I went down hard.
The stage lights flared white, blinding. All eyes on me. Pain shot up my leg, bright and immediate, humiliation burned hotter than both—searing straight through my chest as the room tilted.
A chair scraped back hard enough to turn heads.
A ripple moved through the crowd. Graham, already shoving past tables toward the stage.
Then Hunter’s hand was on my arm, dragging me upright while the other ripped the envelope from my grip like it was the only thing that mattered. He didn’t hesitate—already turning, already moving back to the podium.
Of course he was.
I barely had time to steady myself before I felt it—
Graham.
He took the steps two at a time, eyes locked on me like the rest of the room didn’t exist.
“You okay?” His voice cut through everything—low, focused, entirely too close for only a bodyguard.
“Yeah…” I tried to put weight on my ankle—pain lanced up my leg, sharp enough to steal my breath. “Ow! I don’t think I can walk right now.”
He didn’t say anything—just tucked his arm around my waist and scooped me up like I weighed nothing.
It wasn’t a question.