“I think you’re just not doing it right.”
He glances over to me with a wicked glint in his eye. “There’s a wrong way to do it?”
His words drip with sexual innuendo. “I didn’t mean that.” Judging by my epic orgasm, we both know he knows exactly what he’s doing in that department.
“I should probably warn you, my mother is kind of old school.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s going to assume we haven’t had sex.”
“Ah, I see.” I can play angel around his mother. Heck, I can be an angel and wear wings around his mother.
I don’t really understand all of this, though. He’s a grown man, a very sexy grown man. He’s successful and fucks like a stallion. So, I don’t see why he needs to pretend that he’s engaged. He could probably have a real fiancée in the blink of an eye.
Old money, I guess. Elite eccentricities I’ve never been privy to in my life. Like helicopters and helipads. Because that’s where Graham pulls in and parks— a helipad.
“My parent’s vacation house is a bit hard to reach after a heavy snowfall,” he says as if we just pulled into a gas station.
I point to the white helicopter, its blades already spinning. “We’re going in that?”
“Yeah, we are.” He turns to face me before we head over. “You’re not afraid to fly, are you?”
I shake my head, hoping the fear of flying falls away as I keep shaking. “No, no. I’m pretty sure the pilot knows what he’s doing.”
Graham laughs, softly. “He sure does.”
And the joke’s on me, because as soon as we get to the chopper, the man in the front gets out. “It’s all ready for you,” he screams over the roar of the blades. “And you'll have a vehicle waiting for you at your parent's house when you land.”
Graham nods before helping me inside the chopper. He takes the headset from the man and climbs into the pilot’s seat.
Remember how I said it was all easy before? Like taking cake from a baby, or whatever idiotic thing I said, well, I’m terrified now. This is real. What kind of house do you travel to by helicopter? Who are these people? Is there going to be a red room when I get there?
I try to smile as Graham hands me a headset, but my nerves get the best of me. “Are you sure you know how to fly?”
His sensual lips curve slowly into a smile. “I’ve seen a lot of movies.” He grabs the control stick. “I think I just wiggle this thing around.”
His humor isn’t funny at a moment like this, and he must sense I’m about to jump out, because he reaches his hand across, and gently squeezes my knee. “Relax,” he soothes, “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”
I believe the sincerity on his face and take a deep breath, or at least I try to, and the nausea settles a bit.
And then the helicopter leaves the Earth. The ground below gets further and further away, and I keep my eyes glued on it, watching the helipad get smaller and smaller.
“You doing ok?” Graham’s voice fills my headset.
I glance over and force a smile. “Define ok.”
He laughs. The intoxicating sound relaxes me. I mean, if he can laugh we’re obviously not crashing to our deaths. I finally look out the front window, watching the trees in the distance get closer as he flies us over snow-covered pine trees.
It’s really kind of beautiful up here.
He navigates between a gap in the mountain, racing through the skies, and I relax a little more. It’s actually kind of freeing up here. I could get used to this. I could get really used to experiencing new things with him.
But, I remember why I’m here, and let those thoughts go. After a few more minutes, Graham points to a speck of a cabin in a clearing.
And as we get closer, I realize the word cabin is too tiny for what we’re approaching. The place is massive, sprawling across the land like a wooden castle. Glass windows cover three-quarters of the house, and it’s stunning.
“You grew up here?” I ask.
“No, my parents bought this after we moved out.”
“We?”
He laughs. “My sister, Lindsey and me.”
“Ah, will she be here as well?”
“I’m not sure. She has two kids, and a great husband, but sometimes they spend it with his family.”
“The little girl from the mall?”
He nods. It’s hard to imagine Graham attached to people. That came out wrong. It’s hard to picture him as anything...normal. Or human. Because all of this has been a whirlwind, with no time to process.
“Won’t she recognize me?”
“Probably. You’re kind of hard to forget.”
My face blushes, and a warmth spreads through my body. And as he smiles, landing on the helipad, I’m not sure it’s a good thing if I see the real man behind the business deal, because, once this is over, he’s definitely going to be hard to forget,
Chapter 7
Graham
It’s go time. I hope Zoe is up for this.
As we approach the house, I reach down and twine her fingers in mine, for appearance sake, because I know curious eyes are watching. And, well, because my fake fiancée looks like she needs it. “I would like to apologize now,” I tell her.
She looks up at me, stricken. “That bad?”
“Sort of,” I answer, honestly.
She stops. “You’re not bringing me here to make me some kind of sex slave are you? I probably should’ve asked that before now.” Panic widens her eyes. “Is that why you flew me here, all Christian Grey-like, so I couldn’t escape? I just wanted you to use my soaps, not punish me.”
“Zoe, god no…” I try to interrupt, but she continues to ramble.
“I’m not calling you Sir, and if I have to chew my way through those wood walls, I will.”
And then I do the only thing I can to stop her freak out, I cup her flushed cheeks with my palms and kiss the fuck out of her. Like a second skin, her curves meld to my body. I didn’t mean to kiss her, well actually that’s a lie, but maybe I don’t mean for it to go on this long. Zoe’s words are long gone from her lips as I kiss away the ache burning inside me.
With one hand in her hair, I finally pull away. “Everyone’s going to love you.” I try to calm her worries, because it’s true, everyone will love her. It’s me that’s in for the earful. “I’ll give you every key to every car and door, if that makes you feel better.”
“I’m sorry,” she says a little breathless, and still clinging to me. “I didn’t mean to freak out.”
I kiss her again, soft and slow, slipping my tongue in her mouth for a taste of sweetness, just because I want to, not because I know people are watching. She breaks the kiss, darting her eyes to the house, and I reluctantly step away.
Now it’s show time. We stroll to the front doors of my parent’s vacation lodge, and I don’t even need to knock before it opens.
“I was about to send out the search party,” my cousin, York, says. His dark eyes scan over Zoe. “But then I saw you trying to be all alpha and shit.”
“Shouldn’t you be chasing a puck or something?”
He grins. “You’re just jealous you’re not a hockey god.” His eyes shift to Zoe. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Graham?”
“This is Zoe. My fiancee.”
“I know you,” Zoe chimes in, looking a lot star struck. “York Steele. You’re the center for the Colorado Blizzard.”
“Hockey fan?” he asks, looking way more interested than he should in my fiancee. I narrow my eyes, listening to Zoe gush stats at him like she’s a sports announcer. What is this madness?
“I can hook you up with tickets to a game,” he tells her, and she looks like he just offered her the moon.
“I can get her tickets.” Hell, I could buy her the team. And maybe I will. I don’t know where this territorial feeling is coming from, York and I are like brothers. I mean, technically, if she were interested in him, she’s free to do so, but there’s no way she�
�d prefer him over me. If I’m being objective, he’s alright, his dark hair is a bit too long. Women seem to love him, but they love me too.
They continue their chit chat as we step inside.
My mother, dressed like she’s going to a boardroom in designer slacks and pink silk blouse, stands beside a life size nutcracker in the entryway. Her hazel eyes hone in on Zoe.
“Zoe, it’s nice to meet you,” she finally says, walking over to pull me in for a quick hug.
“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Steele.”
“Please, call me Eleanor.” She beckons her staff to fetch our bags and take them to our rooms. “York, why don’t you take Zoe into the kitchen for some refreshments.”
Zoe gives me a wary look, and I smile and let her know I’ll be there soon. When they’re out of earshot, the interrogation begins.
“Why did you bring her here?” my mother asks.
“We’re in love. We’re getting married.” Being with Zoe the past few days, I almost kind of like the lie I’m telling.
“What’s her favorite color?”
I blow out a breath, fuck. “What do you mean?”
“If you’re in love, you’d know her favorite color.”
“Red,” I guess, based on the amount of the colors she’s worn in the whole two days I’ve known her. “I should check on her,” I say, abruptly walking out of the foyer and heading into the kitchen.
I spot Zoe standing at the island with York, and that’s when a laugh echoes that makes my skin crawl when I hear the small unmistakeable snort that goes along with it. Trudy Vesterlane.
Let me lay it all out on the line here— my mother is dead set on getting me hitched to Trudy Vesterlane. My mother thinks it will be a marriage made in Heaven since she’s best friends with Trudy’s mom. Her family vacations next to mine every year, and every year, despite my objections, it’s the same thing: Trudy and I paired up. Not this year. This year, I’m engaged.
Trudy enters the kitchen and stops short when she sees Zoe and I.
“Who’s this?” Trudy asks, her blue eyes glaring right at Zoe.
“My fiancee.”
“That’s unexpected,” Trudy says, assessing Zoe like a pony at a pony show. The contrast between them is stark. Where Zoe is warm and inviting, dark hair and carefree smile, Trudy is an ice queen, cold and snooty, blonde and a pinched smile that looks like someone shoved an icicle up her ass.
I grab Zoe’s hand. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.” We leave the frostiness in the kitchen behind and head toward the garland-wrapped grand staircase. She follows me up, quietly.
I peer over my shoulder. “Sorry about all of that.”
She smiles, but it’s strained. “It’s ok. It’s part of the deal, ya know?”
“Well, it shouldn’t be.”
“Were you and Trudy…” she trails off.
“Fuck no. Not for her lack of trying, though.”
“Ah,” she says as we enter the first room on the right. I shut the door behind us.
Zoe moves further into the large space, taking in the view of mountains from the floor-to-ceiling window on the far wall.
“This room is huge,” she says, admiring the dark wood furnishings. Her eyes stop on the faux reindeer head jutting from the wall between two butter-colored overstuffed armchairs, and she laughs. “I love it.”
“My mother themes the room every year, looks like you got Vixen.”
“Which do you get?”
“Prancer.”
She studies me, contemplating. “Well, I can see that. I read an article once where they ranked the reindeer, and Prancer came in second. He’s sweet and kind. A sensitive soul.”
Is that how she sees me? I make a mental note to be more badass. “I don’t like to be second,” I admit, resting my shoulder against the door frame. “I’m guessing red nose won.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. The only female on the team, obviously.” She thumbs over her shoulder, with a wink that sets my heart racing. “Vixen.”
How fucking appropriate. Cause that’s what she is. My dick hardens just from being alone with this girl. What is wrong with me? I can usually handle being in the same room as a pretty woman; I’m not a teenager for fuck’s sake. Right now, I don’t care about the situation, or all the people downstairs most likely talking about this relationship right now. I cross the room with purpose, that purpose being the need to touch Zoe. For the second in less than hour, our lips meet in a hungry kiss that makes me wonder what voodoo she possesses. Her tongue tangles with mine, and I tighten my grip on her. She tastes like peppermint and holiday wishes.
“Graham,” she whispers, breaking the kiss to run her lips along my jaw, “we shouldn’t be doing this here.”
She’s right. We shouldn’t. We should be on the bed.
I don’t know what’s come over me. It’s like a demon has possessed my body and put it into this constant state of horniness when I’m around her.
“I can’t help myself.”
She smells so good. Maybe it’s her soap, maybe she’s put some pheromone into it that turns me into this wild beast. I make another mental note to get an ingredient list.
I tug her closer, tearing at the button on the top of her jeans. Our lips meet again, and I unzip, and slip my fingers underneath her panties. “You’re so wet.” I groan against her lips, dipping into her heat.
“Graham,” she pleads, moving her hips against my hand.
So, I keep going.
I slide a finger inside her tight heat, and rock myself against her to ease the pressure in my cock. “Tell me you want me, right here, right now.”
“I do,” she says as pump my finger inside her, hooking it at just the right angle. Her moans increase, and I slip another finger into her pussy and circle her clit with the pad of my thumb.
“Zoe, come for me, baby.” I’m so hard. I can’t take much more of this, and I want to come right alongside her.
“Oh god,” she murmurs, bucking faster. “Call me baby again.” Her fingers grip tighter at the base of my scalp, her nails digging into my heated flesh.
“You like when I call you baby?”
“Yes.”
She moans long and hard, her pussy vibrating around my fingers.
I kiss her as she rides out her orgasm. When her body calms, I release my grip. “You’re so fucking hot when you come,” I tell her. My dick is painful when I pull my hand from her jeans and lick my fingers, savoring the sweet taste of her.
She blushes and then zips her jeans. Just as the door flies open.
Chapter 8
Zoe
Hells bells, it’s hard to pull yourself together after an epic orgasm when two children are prancing around the room, yelling for their ‘Uncle Graham’ to pick them up and see their pretty pink dresses.
“This is Gia,” Graham holds the youngest dark-haired girl, “and this is June.” He wraps his arm around the older of the two little girls, the girl from the mall. He gives a kiss to Gia before putting her down. “Ok, go downstairs, girls, and I’ll be right there.”
They bound from the room, and Graham gives me a half-smile. “My nieces.” He scrubs a hand at the back of his neck. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
I’m mortified. “Ok, no more of that. Can you imagine if they had…”
Graham cuts in, “I’ll make sure the door is locked, next time.”
There can’t be a next time. There shouldn’t have been a this time. I blame my lack of control on the fact he’s one of those guys who’s too good-looking. You know the type—the ones you can’t stop staring at because your brain can’t handle all the deliciousness at once. It’s like standing in a bakery shop. You can’t process all the things that look so great all at once, so you just keep staring in disbelief. Gawking, really. And then you tell yourself you’ll start your diet tomorrow, because you just can’t resist.
After a quick freshen up, we head back downstairs to rejoin his family. When we enter the gargantuan living
room, a dark-haired woman, with eyes the color of Graham’s, pulls a plethora of coloring books and crayons from a large ottoman next to the couch.
“You must be the fiancée,” she says, extending her hand for me to shake.
“Hi, I’m Zoe.” I shake her hand and she does something unexpected, she pulls me in for a hug.
“I never thought he’d settle down,” she says for only me to hear. I can hear the happiness in her voice, and even though this is as fake as fiction, I still feel a warmth spread through my chest at the thought of being the one he’s picked to bring home.
Absurd, I know.
“This is my little sister, Lindsey,” Graham introduces us. “And you already met the girls, Gia and Junebug.” He holds each by the hand, and they lead him over to the couch to color with them.
“He’s so good with them,” Lindsey says. “So, what do you do?” she asks, plopping down onto one of the two leather sofas.
“I make soap.” I peek over at Graham coloring with the two young girls and try to ignore the explosion in my ovaries.
“That’s a cool job. I’m always looking for good soap. Gia has such sensitive skin.”
“Well, I have all kinds of soaps you could try.” We talk about mundane things, but it’s oddly easy. I like Lindsey.
She’s nice. Things are going well until I catch June staring at me.
“Are you the elf from the mall?”
Graham’s head pops up. Well I can’t lie to a child, can I? Well, actually, I do by even pretending to be an elf, so yeah, I can. “No.”
My eyes collide with Graham’s and I wonder how in the world I’m going to survive Christmas in this house. The rest of the day passes in a blur of pretending to be in love, and after everyone is tucked in their beds, including me, I toss and turn replaying every touch and glance from Graham until I finally pass out and dream I’m in a runaway sleigh, careening through soap bubbles toward a cliff, unable to stop my demise.
* * *
“You have to take it slowly, and just let yourself glide,” Graham instructs, with his hands cradling my hips.
Graham Page 4