Chapter 7
DOUBLE TAPPED
Graham
As much as I hated the idea of inviting more supernatural bullshit into my life, I had that sickening feeling that if I wanted to keep Maggie close, I’d have to suck it up and take it.
That shit was attracted to her just as much as I was, only it wasn’t just attracted to her—it was in her blood.
And part of me—yeah, the dumb part—wanted to utilize her in every aspect.
My hand tightened on the wheel as the icy gravel crunched under the tires. We rolled up to the manor, the headlights catching the edges of the fog looming in from the woods before flickering across the house.
“Looks like Hunter’s back from his ride,” Maggie said, pointing to the mountain bike chained to the front porch.
I snorted. “Guy can’t stick it in the garage? That thing probably costs more than my cabin.”
“It does,” she said with a teasing grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.
I shot a look to her. When did she go to my cabin?
“It’s got electronic suspension. Hunter said it’s the highest-performing XC bike he’s ever had—whatever that means.”
Of course he did.
I rolled my eyes. My jaw clenching at the thought of Hunter.
It was shit like that that rubbed me the wrong way.
Why was this guy trying so hard? Maggie didn’t care if he had money or not…
unless that goddamn obsession spell rewired her taste too.
Maybe the obsession was eating him alive, making him show off just to try and keep her looking his way.
The cold nipped at her cheeks and brought out her freckles—just like it did the first time I laid eyes on her.
Hunter wouldn’t be the first man to lose his dignity over her.
I didn’t even need the fucking spell. All it took was a glance in my general direction and my dick perked up like a hound dog on the scent of a rabbit.
Maggie reached for the door handle.
“Don’t even think about it.” I put my hand on her thigh, my pulse reacting to the heat of her skin. “I’ll carry you.”
“You don’t have to—” Her voice followed me out the door, but before she could finish, I was already around the car and reaching for her.
“You know…” She wrapped her arms around my neck as I scooped her up. “It seems like every time you bring me home, you end up carrying me over the threshold.”
“Wanna walk?” My eyes darted to her ankle.
“No.”
I closed the door with my hip and carried her to the house and up the steps.
God, feeling her against me… the way she just… fit… it made everything inside me come to life again.
I loved how her hair brushed against my jaw when I carried her, and how her strawberry shampoo seemed to linger even after she left a room.
Whatever bound me to her still hummed under my skin like static, an ache settling in my chest—and it hurt.
I didn’t have some joke or one-liner ready. Nothing felt right.
Yeah, I wanted to carry her over that damn threshold every day.
I wanted to drink her in whenever I could.
Wake up to her beautiful face, come home to her voice.
Maybe one day I’d get to do it for real.
But right now, being this close again only reminded me of how easy it used to be—before I gave in to bullshit… before I left.
It was like we were never apart. Like we just picked up where we left off. Except, I still held the guilt of leaving her weighing on my heart, and she… she had a completely justifiable grudge and a hundred and sixty pounds of regret weighing her down.
I opened the door and carried her into the foyer.
“Hunter?” Maggie called. “You home?”
“In the study, love,” he said, his voice scraping every raw nerve. “Be right out.”
I set her in the chair and took a look around.
The manor was the same but different. She’d settled in nicely.
But I couldn’t tell if this was a hundred percent her doing.
The house had a sort of bondage-holiday situation happening.
Not necessarily Christmas, but more… drunken Renaissance festival meets BDSM orgy in the woods complete with twinkling fairy lights.
Even the plants were strapped in leather and hanging in front of the window like it was their time to shine in the dungeon of love.
The scent of candy canes and leather filled the air…
like Mrs. Claus and Santa got caught being extra naughty with the elves just before Yuletide.
Jesus Christ.
There was a visual I didn’t ask for.
“I see you… redecorated.” I nodded to a statue of two girls fighting over one guy’s dick.
She rolled her eyes, and a small snort escaped her. “Yeah, they were Hunter’s idea… to help give my videos a certain vibe.”
“Oh, they give a vibe, alright.” I let out an amused huff. “I’m glad you didn’t change the sunroom.” I peered around the corner, taking it in. “It’s my favorite.”
“Mine too,” she said with a small smile tugging at her beautiful lips. “I told Hunter it was off-limits.”
“Are you alright, darling?” Hunter crossed the kitchen with his arms outstretched carrying roses in one hand and a tumbler of something golden in the other, the ice clinking with each step. His silk bathrobe flowed behind him, barely tied shut. “What did the doctor say? Is it broken?”
Hunter sat on the arm of the chair and gave her the roses, then kissed her neck, twirling his fingers through her hair.
I wanted to rip her from his reach, take what was mine, but I didn’t. I just sat there and let the pain twist slow and mean—it got off on hearing me whimper.
“It’s fine,” she said, placing a hand on his bare chest. “I just need to take it easy for a few days.”
“Good.” He kissed her forehead.
“Katie mentioned you needed to go for a ride after the awards. Everything alright?”
He took a slow sip, eyes darting to me. “Fine.”
I didn’t like the way his tone shifted so fast. Like he had anything to be upset about. Maggie should be pissed at him for the way he embarrassed her on stage.
“I was just worried about you… about your ankle.” He gestured to it with his drink in his hand.
“Hunter, I’m fine.” She brought her hand up to his face and gently caressed his cheek.
“So, it shouldn’t interfere with your job?” he asked.
“No. Not at all. We will be fine.”
“Speaking of which…” Hunter rose and turned to me. “You are joining us tonight, correct?” He took another slow sip. Something flickered behind his eyes—a knowing look, only I didn’t know what it meant.
My gaze jumped to Maggie’s and all my blood slammed south. My mind instantly filled with memories of us together. The way she looked and the sounds she made when she came echoed up my spine.
My suit coat rustled as she crossed her legs, too deliberate to be innocent. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“Looks that way,” I said, unable to take my eyes off her.
“Perfect.” Hunter started through the kitchen again. “What are you drinking tonight?”
Maggie rose and balanced on one foot, then fisted my shirt and pulled me to her.
“Uh-whiskey,” I said, barely, unable to take my eyes off hers.
I leaned in. She met me halfway—then nipped my lower lip instead of kissing me. Laughter spilled against my mouth before she fell back into the chair with a shy giggle.
A mischievous glint flashed in her eye. “We’ll be upstairs, Hunter.”
“I’ll be there in a minute. Make sure he knows the rules.”
Fuck, she looked gorgeous. She always did, but the way the light from the fairy strands wrapped her in a soft honeyed glow… and how she practically drowned in my suit coat… the sight of her… all thigh and temptation… it was excruciating.
She looked through her lashes at me, beckoning me with one finger.
My cock pulsed once behind my zipper, and I nearly lost it. I wanted to grab her. Have my way with her. Let her know just how sorry I was for the way I left things. It was enough to make me want to take her right in that chair.
Fuck Hunter and his rules.
Why did she do this to me?
Every time I looked at Maggie Maxwell, it was torture to look away.
Maggie
Graham carried me up the stairs. I loved it when he threw me over his broad shoulders—the way he manhandled me.
He slapped my ass once, giving it a playful squeeze before running his hand down the length of my thigh.
It felt so good to have that man’s hands on me again.
I’d dreamt of it every night since he left.
We entered the bedroom and stopped just inside the door.
“You got a new bed?” he asked, setting me down. “What was wrong with the old one?”
“Oh, uh… Hunter wanted us to start fresh, so he bought a new one. One that was more his style.”
“Jesus, Max, you’re really bending over backwards for the guy.”
“Hey. I owe him, remember.” I hopped to the bed and sat down. “Don’t worry, the old one is in the guest room.”
Graham followed and moved in close, leaning me back.
He hovered over me for just a moment before kissing me and running his hand up my thigh again.
“Why don’t we get comfortable?” I suggested.
“I’m only comfortable when I’m with you, princess. You know that.”
God, his voice did it to me every time. And when he slid his hand under the jacket to remove it from my shoulders… I was nothing more than a puddle.
We moved to the head of the bed, where I unbuttoned his shirt and started on his belt.
“So did you find what you were looking for back in Colorado?” I asked.
Shit.
Why the fuck did I bring that up now?
He straightened a little, but stayed leaning on his elbow.
I ran my fingers through his soft belly fur and traced the stars on his ‘V’.
“No. How could I when I left it here?” He traced lazy circles on my hip. “Max, I’m so sorry I did that to you. I don’t deserve to—”
I brought my finger to his lips, shushing him. “No,” I whispered.
He grabbed my wrist and kissed my scars individually. Two on the forearm, one on the bicep, the latest one under the silicone bandage. Then he moved to the other arm, working his way up to my neck where his kisses sent that irresistible heat straight between my thighs.