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“Graham, it’s too much. I want to go to the bedroom. I want you inside me,” I cried.

“Are you saying you don’t want to come?”

He followed up with that question by pulling down the top of my dress and sucking my nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth as he ground his thigh against me in the most glorious way.

“So close,” I cried.

Then he scraped my nipple with his teeth, and it was game over.

“Graham,” I screamed. It was the only word that mattered. The word that encapsulated every ounce of pleasure I was feeling… all my wants, all my needs.

I screamed his name again as I tumbled over into bliss. Melting into the moment, I realized I was lost and shattered.

“Now the bedroom.”

I vaguely heard the words. Graham’s heat lifted off me, and I heard a sound of protest. I soon realized it came from me. Then I was in his arms, and I smiled because I could snuggle against his chest.

Orgasms and cuddles.

This was the life.

Soon I was in his bedroom. I didn’t have to look or be told. It smelled like him, clean and crisp. But underlying it all, there was a whisper of something dark and dangerous—the mix of his own chemistry, sweat, and pure masculinity. I drank it in.

He moved me so that I slid down his front until my bare feet touched his rug and I was looking up at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“I was just thinking the same thing.” I smiled.

“What? That you’re beautiful?”

I loved the twinkle in his eye.

I spread my arms and did a pirouette. “Yep, that’s exactly what I was thinking. I’m beautiful, and you’re gorgeous.” I pulled on the collar of his dress shirt, forcing his head down so I could steal a kiss.

He chuckled and nipped at my bottom lip, making me shiver.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Do it again, and I’ll tell you.”

He captured my lips again. This time he lingered, letting the heat build up until I was clutching his shoulders, pulling him closer. Soon I felt the bed at the back of my legs, and he lowered me down onto the mattress, then stood up. There was something about him towering over me that made me tingle.

“Take off your shirt,” I demanded.

He smirked as he slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt, then unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of his pants.

“All the way off.” This time, I waved my hand in command.

“Yes, ma’am.” Oh my God, that grin should be illegal.

He threw his shirt over his shoulder, muscles rippling under the dim light, and I gasped. Yep, my mouth was open, and I prayed I wasn’t drooling. Judging by his smug grin, the man knew exactly what he was doing to me.

He came closer, which was perfect. It allowed me to push my fingers up, delving through his chest hair. I stopped when I felt a bump. I looked up at him. He grimaced.

“It’s just a scar, baby.”

I pushed back and saw another scar on his left shoulder. It was round and puckered. I touched it tentatively. “Is this a…?”