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“The password. It’s cunt.”
“Jesus.” Graves ended the call with a quiet command, then he turned to Susanne and unlocked the handcuffs. “Sorry I made you come over. Help yourself to something, just be sure to let yourself out before I return.”
She shrugged, bored. “That’s fine. I’ll just go fuck Randy.”
“Say hello to your husband and thank him for sharing.”
She grinned. “Don’t worry, he gets off on it.”
“Yeah, I know.” He crossed to his bedroom and shoved into a plain T-shirt, so damned angry that Chloe would expose herself, sacrifice herself, over some stupid idea of losing her virginity before Saturday. She’d always been all sunshine, spirited and mischievous. Something that, as the polar opposite of Graves’s grim personality, he liked in ways that defied his comprehension. But this?
“I’m leaving,” he called out as he stalked toward the elevator. “Set up security system after Mrs. Robinson leaves.”
Yes, sir. Security system on standby.
Anger had worked Chloe into a lather.
Her car smelled of Graves. The gas tank boasted full, the red indicator rising up above the top of the marker. And the fact these tiny details affected her so powerfully made her want to scream. Especially when the man she ached for was now, as she drove down the busy Chicago streets, with another woman, in handcuffs, in his apartment.
God, please let Luke allow her the use of his state-of-the-art gym, so she could just have a go at his punching bags. But then the thought of Graves—mesmerizingly sexy, dark in all the ways that that woman had been light and fair—doing sexy things to her this very moment made Chloe’s throat close and her eyes sting and suddenly hitting something was the last thing on her mind.
And all she wanted was just to have a good cry instead.
She swallowed back her tears and braked at a stop light, drawing in a deep, fortifying breath. No. She couldn’t cry now. Maybe if she’d thought all hope was lost, she would allow herself to break—especially when her entire life, she had been waiting for him.
But Graves’s words trailed unbidden in her head, and her storming hormone levels shot through the roof every time she replayed them…
That’s right, Chlo. I want you so much you make me shake in my fucking pants. I’m obsessed with you…with where you are…and what to do…and who the fuck you’re with…I want to bury myself inside you so deep I won’t ever want to pull out…
Her hands shook on the steering wheel, and when she made her last turn, Luke’s posh apartment building stood like a beacon of hope only two blocks away. Because Luke was such a party boy, Chloe had been to several of his legendary “pajama parties” a couple of times when Daniel was out of town and mercifully oblivious to it, and thanks to those random escapades she knew Luke’s key-code access. The man had even told her once that if she ever wanted to go into his place, she could wait for him naked like all the rest of his special “friends.” Yeah, right.
He was incorrigible, Luke Preston, making it look so good to be bad.
He had the amazing good looks of a Greek god and lived a life of excess like a true Roman. Super sexy and painfully aware of his magnetism, he was unscrupulous enough to take wicked advantage of every girl’s attention and then some. The fact that he’d been born a billionaire and his companies almost ran themselves left the guy with tons of time to visit every bedroom in the city. In fact, Chloe’s entire group of friends had slept with Luke—and years later, they still didn’t stop gushing about it and couldn’t stop complaining over the fact that Luke didn’t seem to visit any bed twice.
But Chloe didn’t plan to sleep with the guy.
She wanted Graves Buchanan so badly, she feared she would die a virgin if she couldn’t have him.
All she truly needed tonight was to lure Luke’s playful streak—which was easy because the man didn’t have a serious bone in his body—and ask him to please help her torment Graves so he’d believe they were having an affair. Maybe if she managed to push the right button, Graves would react and for the love of God just put her out of her misery already!
Graves.
Chloe had never before reacted to a boy the way she had when she’d first met Graves. He’d been so handsome with his dark, windblown hair and his gold eyes and that deep, grave voice of a man. His endearing somberness had made Chloe anxious to tease out a smile from him.
She’d been merely thirteen, while Graves had been almost seventeen, and he’d recently approached her father’s company with one of his brilliant intelligence plans. Her father had been so impressed with the boy, he’d pulled his only son out of the partying lifestyle he’d been dragged into by the incorrigible Luke Preston, and he’d forced Daniel to work with Graves on the project for months.
Graves and Danny had been best friends ever since.
Years later and barely in his mid-twenties, Graves had gone on to become independent and a billionaire, but his promising start had been with the Lexingtons.
Chloe still remembered how anxiously she’d waited for Graves to come over to the house to work on his projects with Danny. Sometimes, she felt like she dressed just so he’d see her. And God, did Graves see her.
He used to stare at her like she was the most beautiful, precious thing on this earth. Like he’d gladly miss the sight of a comet, a sunset, a rainbow, so long as he could keep staring at Chloe. He’d get so distracted when she passed through or came to say hello, Danny would have to call his name several times to regain his attention.
But then, a couple of years ago, around the time Chloe began seriously trying to flirt with Graves and dramatically improved her outfits in the sexiness department, he’d begun stiffening when he heard her voice, going almost into defense mode when he saw her approach. And that had just made Chloe more and more desperate to make him look at her.
But tonight, those pale tawny eyes that appeared in all of Chloe’s fantasies were now looking with desire at another woman.
