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She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt that is emblazoned with the logo from a bakery.
Dobb’s Bakery.
“Hey!” she calls out to me as soon as she spots me. “I’m whipping together a little dinner for us.”
“Look at you, Graham. It seems someone was napping.”
The second voice startles me.
I didn’t realize we weren’t alone, but Lloyd is perched on a stool next to the kitchen island, watching my wife work some sort of fragrant magic in a skillet.
“It’s vegetable stir fry,” she offers. “With my secret seasoning. You’re going to love this.”
Emotions clatter inside me at the way she says it so effortlessly.
I’m going to love this.
I don’t know if she’s talking about the food or her.
I wipe a hand over my forehead. “I should finish getting dressed.”
That draws a deep-seated chuckle from Lloyd. “No need, Bull. I can tell that you two need more alone time. I’m going to call it a night.”
“I’m making enough for the three of us,” Trina says before stealing a glance at me.
Lloyd pats a hand on the top of the island. “I admit that it smells too delicious to pass up.”
I don’t blame him for wanting to stick around. Who in their right mind could resist time with my wife and whatever the fuck she’s cooking?
Running a hand over my bare stomach, I keep my gaze pinned to Trina. “I’ll grab a shirt.”
She nods. “We’ll be right here waiting for you.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from her. She looks freshly fucked and happy. She looks as goddamn happy as I feel.
Finally, when she turns her attention back to the pan on the stove, I take off in a sprint down the hallway.
I rush to get dressed because I want every second I can with her. I never want this fake marriage to end.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Trina
I curl a finger to lure my husband closer when I spot him returning from walking Lloyd to the guestroom.
Dinner was delicious and fun.
Lloyd ran through story after story about the vacations that he took with his late wife. For the most part, Graham and I laughed at their adventures, but there were moments when sorrow crept into Lloyd’s voice.
I reached out to hold his hand as he wept through the retelling of their third honeymoon in Rome. Right after he was finished, he offered to send Graham and me there on our honeymoon.
Neither of us said a word.
I’d love to travel to Italy, but I never considered doing it with my boss.
He’s more than that to me now.
The sex was as amazing as I imagined it would be, but it sparked something inside of me.
It might be infatuation or a full-blown hard like, but I’m feeling things for Graham that I haven’t felt before.
I need to rein it in since this marriage has an expiry date.
Before I can say a word to Graham, he’s got me wrapped in his arms, and his mouth is on mine.
He kisses me deeply. His mouth is demanding but tender at the same time. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I know after our divorce, I’ll never feel it again.
“Come back to bed with me,” he whispers as soon as the kiss breaks. “I’m craving you, Trina.”
I can tell.
He’s hard again.
I feel the length of him pressing against me through the fabric of his pants and the denim of my jeans.
His thumb traces a path over my bottom lip as he gazes into my eyes. “I’m spending the night in bed with you. Every night going forward.”
Until this ends.
Those unspoken words sit between us.
I nod because I’ll take whatever I can from this. It’s not just about faking a marriage anymore. It’s about savoring moments like this with him and letting my body feel things it’s never felt before.
“I want that,” I say breathlessly. “I want you in bed with me.”
As soon as I shut the door to Graham’s bedroom, his hands are all over me.
He yanks my T-shirt over my head and drops his mouth to my breasts. Feeling the lash of his tongue on my right nipple through the thin silk of my bra sends a shudder through me.
“You like that,” he states in a low growl. “You have sensitive nipples.”
Unable to find my voice, I nod.
“I’m going to remember that,” he whispers as he turns his attention to my other nipple.
The bite of pain when he closes his teeth around it is so intense that I don’t register the fact that he’s reached behind me with one hand to deftly unclasp my bra.
He slides it from my body, releasing my breasts as he does.
“I’m not going to make it to the bed.” He chokes out a half-chuckle, half-groan. “I’m going to fuck you against the wall, Trina. Strip.”
I do as I’m told because I want this just as badly as he does.
I want to feel him inside of me again.
