21. Graham
Chapter twenty-one
Graham
I ’m in love with her.
I’ve stayed up all night trying to convince myself that I’m wrong, that my brain took an extended vacation to orgasm land and hasn’t come back yet, but as she lays here on my chest, I can’t deny this feels…
right. She feels like she belongs with me, like she’s mine.
Last night might’ve solidified my feelings for her, but I’d be an idiot to think she hasn’t had this hold on me since the moment we met.
Her hair fans out over my chest, soft snores bringing a smile to my face.
There’s a serenity to the moment, where none of the outside worries have tainted it and I can pretend this is what every day will look like going forward.
Rosay naked and wrapped in my arms, limbs tangled together as the sun rises.
After Bethany, I never thought I’d find someone I would trust, not only inside the bedroom but with the intimate parts of my life.
The way Rosay and I communicate shows me that I don’t have to be scared to let her in, that she won’t use me for what I can do for her.
A flash of light from the nightstand draws my attention, and I ignore it, pretending there isn’t anything I need to be doing right now except for holding this woman.
When the vibrations begin to rouse her, I decide it’s time to step back into reality.
I slide out from under her, taking a moment to drink in the smooth curve of her spine, the dip at her lower back where the sheet covers her round ass.
My cock jumps at the image, and before I ignore eve ry task waiting for me, I find my boxers, get dressed, and go downstairs.
Out of twenty emails that have come in since five a.m., two make my heart race.
During our game of golf, Kieran gave me information for the local rancher who rents one of his fields.
They’re planning an expansion and looking to diversify their income streams, a perfect option for me to approach on behalf of Thompson.
Another potential client just recently bought a cattle farm with the hopes of opening an upscale farm-to-market restaurant.
Everything is falling into place.
I finish responding to the emails and text Preston, letting him know I’ve set up meetings.
Two down, four to go. Inside the kitchen, I open the fully stocked fridge, courtesy of Winnie’s foresight, and grab what I need to make Rosay breakfast. I find a bottle of rum in the small wet bar to make an infused syrup for the French toast and set it beside the stove.
A quick peek tells me Rosay is still in deep sleep, and it takes everything in me to go back downstairs after covering her naked body.
I beat the ingredients together in a small bowl and drench the Texas toast in the egg wash, smiling at the sizzle as I place it into the hot pan.
I find a small carton of heavy cream on the fridge door—most likely for the Yorkshire tea stocked by the kettle—and take the powdered sugar from the cabinet to make fresh whipped cream.
The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg fill the air as the toast cooks, and I focus on pouring everything needed for the syrup into a saucepan.
Rum infuses with the other smells as it simmers, thickening to create the perfect addition to the toast.
“Oh my gosh, what smells so good?”
My head snaps up to where she’s leaning on the banister, hair tossed up into a messy bun. I frown at the shorts and white camisole she put on, covering her beautiful breasts and ass.
“French toast,” I reply, watching her long legs as she comes downstairs.
She stands on tip toes to kiss me, and I immediately try to deepen it.
When she pulls away and heads to the coffee pot, I inhale a deep breath and temper myself.
Last night might’ve changed everything for me, but I can’t guarantee she feels differently or wants to change anything about our deal.
Hell, I don’t even know how we could work things out at Thompson, but I want to figure it out together.
I decide to broach the subject after breakfast.
“Want coffee?” she asks, reaching for a coffee pod.
“Sure, if you don’t mind pouring it for me. I’ll do the rest.”
I focus on plating fresh berries and the French toast, adding a dollop of whipped cream and drizzling the syrup over top.
Rosay sidles up beside me at the table and sets a coffee down in front of my plate.
Steam rises from the cup, and my lips part in surprise that she added the perfect amount of cream.
“Thank you.” I wrap her in my arms and kiss her breathless. “It’s perfect.”
She takes the seat beside me, tangling our feet beneath the table as she cuts into her French toast. The noises she makes while eating are indecent and bring about a million images of her making those noises with something else in her mouth.
“Is this rum-infused syrup?” she asks, scooping some onto her finger.
“Yeah, I made it right before you woke up.”
She glances at me with a devious gleam in her eye as she sticks her finger into her mouth and swirls her tongue around it, sucking off the syrup. I’m instantly hard as steel and it’s not even ten a.m.
She cuts into another piece. “You know what this would go really well with?”
Your pussy .
“We cou ld totally use it in the bedroom,” she says, shocking me at how well she can see right through me. “But I think a sponge cake with this syrup would be perfect.”
“I’ll be sure to let our wedding planner know,” I say, trying to gauge her reaction.
A smile takes over her face as she chews, and a beautiful blush rises to her cheeks. My throat is tight waiting for her response, waiting to see whether she’s going to laugh it off and tell me I’m an idiot.
“Well—”
A knock at the door halts her words, and I stifle the urge to tell her to pretend we’re not here. I’m sure whoever is at the door, most likely Winnie, is about to steal Rosay away from me, and I’m not ready for that just yet.
“I’ll get it.” I grit my teeth and push back from the table.
Reign stands at the door in a cowboy hat and boots, the epitome of Texas royalty with a massive silver and turquoise belt buckle.
“Good morning,” he says, stepping inside when I open the door wider.
“Hola, Papa.” Rosay gives him a hug, ushering him over to the table. “?Todo bien?”
He chuckles. “Everything is fine, mija. Wendy sent me down here to make sure you were awake and ready to do wedding stuff, and I came to steal your fiancé here for a tour of the place.”
I swallow through a thick throat at the thought of spending the afternoon with Reign.
With Bethany’s father, even though I didn’t feel the need to seek his approval, I knew I could impress him with my lifestyle and the connections I made as a venture capitalist. Rosay’s father, while successful in his own right, isn’t impressed by fancy things.
He’s authentic and hardworking and values relationships over standing.
And I find myself despe rately wanting his approval even though this relationship with his daughter is technically not real.
Yet.
Rosay’s mouth is twisted into a half smile, half grimace that I smooth out with the swipe of my thumb across her lips, pretending to clear a bit of whipped cream. “That sounds great. We’re almost finished up here.”
“I’ll go get dressed,” Rosay says, stuffing the rest of her French toast in her mouth and taking her plate to the sink.
My posture slumps at her exit, saddened by the fact our morning is already over when it barely just started.
I’m savoring our solo time, getting to know each other outside of the boundaries of boss and employee, though if I’m honest, Rosay runs the place, and I just have the title.
She’s fully capable of running a team and ensuring goals are met, a businesswoman by nature.
In my mind, I know the entire reason we’re here is for the wedding, for her to have support with her family and for me to put on the show of a good fiancé, but from what I’ve seen, they’re all kind and welcoming, a true unit.
“We’ll take the golf cart down to the lake,” Reign says, interrupting my rumination.
“There’s a lake?”
“It’s more like a big pond.” Rosay descends the stairs in a long, flowing white and coral dress with flowers all over it. “Mom and I used to have weekly picnics there when I was young.”
My legs lift me without thought, propelling me toward her.
I can’t help but pull her to me, forgetting the fact that her father is still sitting at the table.
Her surprised inhale as I kiss her gives way for me to deepen the kiss, but she brings me back to reality when she separates us with a hand pressed against my chest.
I blink t o clear away the lust and feel my cheeks heat under her scrutiny.
Her brows are pinched tight, curiosity brimming in her gaze.
I can’t tell if she’s upset by my action because her dad is here, and my throat tightens as I swallow down the embarrassment of overstepping a boundary.
We need to revisit the topic of us—something I had planned before her father’s arrival—because I can’t stand this in-between zone where I can’t tell what’s real and what’s for show.
“I’ll see you at the rehearsal brunch?” She slips out from under me, grabbing her purse and giving her dad a kiss on the head. "Tú también, viejo.”
Reign chuckles at being called an old man, and Rosay exits, taking all the sunshine with her. I can’t help but feel bereft, lingering at the doorway, checking my watch to see what time it is so I know how long I’ll have to be without her. I’m fully under her spell.
“I remember those days.” Reign chuckles, knocking his fist on the table.
“What days?”
“When being without them feels like surgically removing your heart.” His smile is wistful yet reassuring. “I’d like to say that it gets easier, but it doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t?” I ask, only because I don’t ever remember missing my ex the way I miss Rosay when she leaves a room.