Page 35 of Rush of Jealousy

“If you don’t want to swallow,” he starts, his voice airy and out of breath, “I suggest you get up here. Now.”

I smile and ignore him. I know what I am doing. He just doesn’t know it yet. I use my good hand to reach under and grip his balls gently. I give him a squeeze at the same time I push forward all the way and hold my breath. I fear I may pass out but I stay still and hear my name echoing in the room.

Graham jerks in my mouth and warm liquid splashes against the back of my throat and down into my esophagus. I pull back and push forward again as the next wave erupts from Graham’s cock. I slurp and suck and inhale through my nose just to do the whole routine again. His hands massage and squeeze and pet my upper body—anything he can reach from his position. When I know he is spent, I allow him to fall lazily from my mouth.

Graham pulls me gently up and cradles me to his body. He turns so he is facing me, grips my chin in one hand, and makes sure I am staring right into his eyes.

“You are such a surprise to me. You are everything I didn’t think I needed in my life, Angie. And everything I am trying desperately to hold on to.”

“I don’t want to talk,” I whisper. “I just want to be here with you and not think about the hundred reasons I should leave right now.”

I can tell he wants to talk. To say something. But he chooses not to ruin the moment. Instead, he pushes me to my back, mounts me missionary style, and makes slow love to me until the sun rises with the first sign of morning.

We both drift back off to sleep, and I dream about the man I thought I knew. But in reality, everything I do know is what he has fed me.

* * *

I wake up alone. At a glance at the clock, I find it is almost ten in the morning. I notice the first aid kit is on the nightstand, and my bandage on my right hand got changed. I must have been really tired to not even feel it being done.

I glance around the room and don’t see Graham in the bathroom or closet. I search the floor for a shirt or something to wear but come up empty. I roll out of bed and pad across the room. I slide open the door for the walk-in closet and am overcome with surprise. The last time I was here, Graham’s clothing took up the entire space. Now, over half the racks and shelves contain female clothing. I run my hands over the elegant fabrics and leaf through the hung-up shirts to see that everything is in my size. The folded pairs of jeans have my length and waist measurements correct. Skirts and dresses are all tailored with me in mind. At the end, I find a variety of shoes that are meant for my feet. I am overcome with—

I don’t even know. Gratitude? Shock? Confusion.

I don’t want to have a beautiful wardrobe here. I don’t want to let my heart open just to have it stomped on again.

I hear Graham’s voice downstairs and assume he is on some business call. I really want to find my own phone. Thus, I pull a pair of gray leggings and a long-sleeved cranberry Henley down from a shelf to wear. In the dresser, I open several drawers until I find the sets of bras and panties. I knew if Graham spent this much time and effort on clothes that he would not skimp on the undergarments. He is an attention-to-detail kind of man. I select a black ensemble that feels like they were handmade using the softest silk and lace trim. Next, I pull open the bottom drawer to see his secretive items are still in the same location. I will need to find a good opportunity to pick the lock on the boxes. He mustn’t be too concerned over me snooping if he left everything right where I found it last.

I carry my items back to the bed and get dressed. I wash my face and brush my hair before making my way downstairs in search of my fake luggage bag. I vaguely remember Graham kicking it into the foyer after our heavy elevator petting session.

When I get to the main floor and round the bend into the kitchen area, I find Graham and another man talking in low voices. The man has sandy-brown hair that is cut military style. He is Graham’s height but has a bit more muscle on his bones. He looks to be about thirty and has chiseled jaw bones that make it hard for him to show much expression other than indifference.

The talking stops and both men turn to where I am standing—just staring. “Oh, hi,” I say in a breath. I rock on my feet, not sure what else to say.

Graham’s eyes focus on me, and I can tell he is on edge. Something has changed in his mood. He is no longer laid-back. Just by the way his back is so rigid and his face is stern, I can guarantee that Sex Crazed Graham has retired. Replacing him is now Calculated Graham. The steel look in his eyes makes me think I did something wrong. He saunters over to me, and I gulp at his no-nonsense attitude. Shit. What did I do?

“I, ah, I’m just going to go find my phone,” I say, pushing past him only to be halted by his arms that dart out to wrap around my waist. “What the—”

“It’s on the table,” Graham says, pointing to its location.

I pull out of his arms and glare at him. Why is he doing this in front of his guest? And why is no one introducing me? Awkward. I make my way over to the dining room, a room I have never actually spent time in, and feel both men shadowing me. My hair stands on end, as I spot my luggage and phone. When I get closer, I see my bags of pills and recording device out in the open. I spin around to find Graham just inches from colliding into me. I yelp at his angry expression.

“You went…” I stop my sentence and turn back around to make sure what I am seeing is actually true. Yup. This most definitely looks like he is violating—once again—my personal boundaries. Now some mysterious person on the sideline is witnessing his levels of overstepping. Lovely. Just lovely. “You went through my belongings?” I ask, venom dripping from my mouth. I’m not sure why I phrased it as a question, when the answer is so obviously ayes.

“Yeah, and you have basically made it impossible for me to trust you.” His voice is devoid of humor. “Yet again.”

This entire situation seems so hilarious to me. As if, how can this be real life? I let out an exaggerated laugh.

“Are you serious?” I ask. “Do you even hear yourself? Trust me? What the hell, Graham! You are the one snooping through my stuff.”

“You have overstepped,” he says. “You keep interfering. Putting yourself in danger. You are going to get yourself kidnapped or worse.”

“What? How?”

“This isn’t a movie, Angie. You are not messing with amateurs. You are putting yourself at risk and actively looking for trouble. Collecting pills? Really?” He closes the distance between us, forcing me to back up to get some space. He shakes a bag into the air, causing the pills to settle into the corner. “What if the person knew you took them? What if they had a count on them?”

I frown over his words and back up a few steps. I could be in danger. But right now, I am so invested and so determined to find out what is happening to the agency girls that I cannot back down now. Their lives, as well as mine, are affected.

“I’m sorry that you think it’s necessary to boss me around, but I have just as much riding on this as you do with your need to find justice for your sister. I have friends in the agency and am also affected by this craziness. This isn’t—”

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