So good it felt . . . dangerous somehow.
No matter how much I trust Graham, I don’t know if I trust myself.
Do I have what it takes to fly that high, that close, without sustaining life-shattering injuries in the process? Sure, I know Graham would never hurt my body, but what about my heart? That squishy, love-hungry organ that has always been way too sweet on Graham Campbell for its own good?
As long as I keep my head up, I’ve got this. There’s no reason my heart needs to overextend itself. This is a seven-days-to-seduction deal, and like any good business arrangement, you simply see it through, brush your hands, and move on when you’re done.
“Woman up,” I say to myself. “You’re a big girl. You can do this. You have to do this, and you will be just fine.”
Smart or not, I must see this through. After what I just experienced, I’m more certain than ever that I have Grand-Canyon-size gaps in my erotic knowledge, gaps that only Graham can help me fill. Too bad I have plans tomorrow night, but I’m confident he’ll give me extra credit work the next time I see him.
After taking a few more deep breaths and smoothing the worst of the wrinkles from my skirt, I find my panties on the floor. Stuffing them in my purse, I totter out the door and make my way unsteadily through the bar. It’s grown more crowded—a good thing, since no one seems to notice the disheveled, sex-rumpled girl making her way to the elevators. In the lobby, I charge past the line of people waiting for a taxi.
Time to walk this off, girlfriend.
My head is still swimming. My feet are giant gummy bears that wobble unsteadily beneath me as I plod the ten blocks to my apartment building. Sounds are louder. Lights are brighter. The world has shifted. I’ve walked home at night a million times, but suddenly, everything is different, sparkling, dusted in magic.
I’m floating up the two stories to my apartment’s front door when my phone hums in my purse.
Graham: Home safe?
I smile, heat rushing to my face again as I remember his hands on me, erasing the memory of all hands that had been there before.
Before I can reply that yes, I’m home, another text hums through.
Graham: Sendin
g you something to help you get to sleep, though I hope you realize only crazy people read horror novels before bed. Assuming you haven’t bought this one yet, since it just released yesterday.
I grin as I open my e-reader app to see the newest hide-under-the-covers read by my favorite mistress of horror. I tap out a thank you as I close my apartment door behind me.
CJ: Thank you so much! I can’t wait to read it. You’re a genius.
Graham: Sleep well, sweetheart, and don’t stay up too late. You need to rest up for lesson two. I know you’re busy tomorrow, so I’ll see you on Wednesday. Be ready.
Lesson two . . .
Oh my God, lesson two.
I shiver, my thumbs quivering as I reply.
CJ: Will do. Thank you and . . . good night.
Graham: Good night . . .
Lesson two, ready or not, here I come . . .
Chapter Nine
Graham
Never-ending first-Tuesday-of-the-month status meetings are par for the course at Adored. But since efficiency is my watchword, we can usually make it through them in less than an hour.
That’s due in part to Sean’s legacy.
He was a master at getting things done fast, smoothly, and right-the-first-time. I learned a lot from him. If I run into a thorny situation at work, I’ll often ask myself what he would have done.
The trouble is, as I wonder briefly how to quell the shareholders’ urge to slap up a “for sale” sign prematurely, I fight like hell to not think of him.