Those Three Words: A Single Dad, Billionaire Boss Romance(56)

“Let’s get you home. I think we both need a shower to get the grease off our fingers.”

When we get home, we walk silently up the stairs, her hand in mine. We hit the second landing and she pauses briefly before glancing toward her room.

“You’re mine tonight,” I say, tugging her hand as I keep walking toward the third-floor stairs.

We ascend the stairs and walk to my room. As soon as I close the door my hands are on her. It’s not rushed or frenzied. I just set about undressing her as we make our way to the bathroom.

I pull her shirt over her head, tossing it on the floor before reaching for her jeans. She stops in the doorway as I pull them over her hips and down her legs, pulling each leg free before tossing them to join the shirt.

I reach into the shower and turn on the water and the steam function before turning back to face her. She looks angelic, her pale frame leaning against the doorjamb as she watches me. Her full tits are on display in a white lace bra that matches her thong panties.

“I’ve wondered what was under that outfit all night,” I murmur as I trail kisses over her shoulder.

“You’re wearing too much.” She reaches for the buttons of my shirt and I step back, allowing her to undo the buttons one at a time. It’s agonizingly painful but she’s enjoying undressing me and so am I. As much as I have to talk myself out of bending her over this counter right now and driving into her, I want to go slow, to savor every square inch of her body.

Soon, we’re both fully naked. I put my hands under her arms and lift her to sit on the counter, settling between her thighs.

We kiss each other, our mouths hungry as her tongue finds its way inside my mouth. She pulls me closer, pressing her body against mine.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

I rest my forehead against hers, looking down her body as I cup her breasts, running my thumbs over her pert nipples.

“I’ve had so many fantasies about you. Imagined taking you in every way possible. But this”—I kiss her deeply, holding her head still so I can take it deeper—“has been my favorite fantasy. Savoring you, watching your body as I fill you.”

I look down to where my cock is jutting out, the tip at her entrance begging to enter. I grip myself, stepping forward till I make entry.

“Ahh.” She arches her back, holding on to my neck as I push in further. I watch as I pull back out, already slick with her arousal before pushing back inside.

We both let out an audible moan. I grab her behind her neck, kissing her harder.

It’s slow and passionate, deep and intimate. It feels like we’re both saying so many things with our bodies that we can’t yet say verbally.

Our eyes are locked. I keep one hand on her neck, pulling her to me as I thrust inside her. Our lips can’t get enough. With the other hand I hold hers, pinning it above her head against the mirror for leverage.

We make love like this for several minutes until we can’t hang on any longer and we both fall over the edge together.

I help her off the counter, pulling her into the shower with me where I wash her, taking care of her body before bending her over the marble bench and fucking her so deep, so thoroughly we’re both on the shower floor by the end, gasping and spent.





19





MARGOT





I wince as I stretch my arms overhead, letting out a yawn as I glance to my left.

The bed is empty. I listen for the shower, but I don’t hear it. I bury my face in the pillow for a moment, a smile spreading lazily across my lips as images of last night flood my brain. The pillow smells like Graham.

I sit up and look around the room. “Graham?”

No answer.

I toss the blankets off my body and lean down to grab his shirt from the floor. Our clothes are still strewn about the room, the blankets never righted after our lovemaking.

Lovemaking?

I don’t dwell on that thought too long. I’m not reading into things between us, and after the way he jumped back from me when Miss Perry came into the kitchen the other day, I’m not going to push things. Though I can’t deny the lingering feelings I have about their relationship make me uneasy. I know it’s none of my business, but he can’t be that oblivious to the way she panders to him. The constant flattery and little touches, not to mention the way her voice morphs into a breathy version of what I assume she believes to be sexy or flirty is getting on my nerves.

I poke my head out of his bedroom and glance around, not that I expect anyone to be up on the third floor considering it’s his bedroom. I walk down the hall toward the stairs when I pause, glancing around at the other two doors. I walk over to one and attempt to twist the handle, but it’s locked. I check the other one—same thing. Suddenly I feel a little icky snooping; this isn’t my home. I walk back over to the stairs and make my way to the kitchen.

It’s only six forty-five a.m. and the house rule is Eleanor has to stay in her room until seven fifteen a.m., even if she’s already awake. I tiptoe down the main stairs, looking for Graham. Maybe he’s in his office.

I’m about to turn toward the hallway when I hear the clatter of something in the kitchen. I turn and walk in to find Graham in his pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. His back is to me so I lean against the doorframe and observe him.

He picks up the spoon he dropped and tosses it in the sink before turning his attention back to the coffee he’s making. He places two cups with saucers on a tray that already has orange juice and two fresh croissants with butter and berries.