Graham clears his throat. “You are playing with fire again.”
“And for once, I don’t really care if I get burned.” The words are out of my mouth before I even comprehend the magnitude. What am I saying? Am I admitting to myself that Graham could hurt me and that I really don’t care? What does that make me? A masochist, that’s what.
I stand on my tiptoes and rub my crotch against Graham’s thigh.
“You are sore.”
“It’s the good kind of sore. The one that needs friction and extra attention.”
“Angie,” he warns.
“Graham,” I warn. “Either take care of me or I will take care of myself.”
I yelp as he picks me up and hauls me to his bed, throwing me down in the center next to the takeout bag of food. His hands slide down my sweatpants.
“You look damn fine in my clothes.” He squeezes the meaty flesh of my ass. “But you look better without them.”
I lift my hips to assist in the discarding. His face nuzzles my neck, causing me to arch my back and mold myself to his body.
“You are mine,” he growls.
My lower body jerks upwards to meet his thrusts, but he is wearing way too many clothes. I sit up and start pulling off his shirt. I admire his form with a hum. “There, that’s better.”
I lick along his neck, and out of my peripheral vision, I see the door move. My body jerks over the unexpectedness, and my stomach clenches with distaste.
Graham’s body stiffens, and he looks over his shoulder to see what has my attention. “What the hell? Sophia? What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says softly, staring right into my eyes.
“No, you’re not,” I mumble under my breath, but no one hears.
“You told me over lunch to let you know if I receive any more text messages.”
So they just had lunch together? Lovely. I thought we were going to eat together here. And she is receiving texts too? What kind of texts?
I roll to my side, trying to tug the comforter over me while I find my pants. I retrieve them off the floor and slide them on ungracefully. Oddly enough, it feels like I am the other woman, and I cannot get out of this room fast enough.
He halts my movements with a gentle grasp to my arm. Then he turns back to Sophia. “You could have called,” he says coldly.
“But I figured that since I was already in the area, I would just show you in person.”
I try to tug free, but Graham is blocking my way. “I’m going to go.”
He ignores me, keeping his menacing eyes on Sophia. “How did you get in?”
I don’t need to be here for his interrogation. I just want to go home.
“You know your doorman has a sweet spot for me. He let me up. Just like old times.”
“He shouldn’t have,” Graham sighs.
“Let me go,” I snap.
“Angie, I want to discuss this.”
“Seems pretty basic to me.”
“When I went to pick up our food, I ran into Sophia. We had a coffee and chatted. That’s it.”