Page 63 of Rush of Jealousy

I don’t even realize I am talking. He has me in a trance—some vortex that I get sucked into every time his fingers graze me with his worshipping touch.

“He has some fucking nerve to buy you jewelry.” His words are harsh. They vibrate against the softness of my lips.

My mouth opens at the sheer force of his, and I breathe into the kiss. I accept him and let him in, leaning into his embrace. His arm bands around my ass, and I get lifted up onto the island. He rips his mouth from mine and lifts my dress only to insert his head underneath—parting my thighs to accommodate him. I lean my hands back on the surface of the counter to brace myself for what will be a wild ride.

Graham pulls my red satin panties to the side and shoves his tongue hard into my crevice, probing and searching for refuge. He is hungry—starving—and for nothing that resembles actual food. I grab his dress-covered head for support and scream out his name. His thumbs pull my folds open to give him better access, and it only takes him a few strokes of his tongue to have me trembling with the force of an unexpected orgasm. Hot damn, he is efficient when he wants to be. He laps up my juices and crawls out of my fabric.

He fixes my outfit, smoothing down the fabric over my bent knees. It’s like he can be chivalrous and deranged at the flip of a switch. One second he is calling me sweetheart and the next he is giving me a mind-blowing orgasm with just his mouth.

“I—” My mouth opens and shuts, while my thoughts try to form. “I—”

“I can think of better uses for your mouth,” he grinds out, capturing my lips again with his. His mouth covers mine in a sloppy kiss and brands me with a bite. He pulls away reluctantly, and my hand moves up to rub at the wound he just inflicted on me.

“You are going to leave a mark,” I say in shock.

“Good.”

I am dumbfounded. “Good?”

“I want every fucking man who sees you to know that you are taken. That you are claimed. There is no part of you that I do not want.”

“We are not together!” I yell, sliding off the island. The audacity of this man to just storm into my home and make me breakfast and then give me a toe-curling orgasm—all without permission. “And where is your freaking shirt? And your socks? You look homeless.”

He stifles a laugh, knowing that his body is having a positive effect on my libido. “On the couch with my other belongings,” he says nonchalantly.

I walk into the living room and see his suitcase. His shirt is draped over the chair, and his wallet and keys are resting on the coffee table. I sense Graham at my back, so I ask without even bothering to look. “You spent the night?”

“I wanted to wake up to you,” he says softly.

“I’m impressed that you were able to stay out of my room.” My words come out as sarcastic as I intend.

“Oh, I visited there. You always say the cutest things when you are drowsy with sleep.”

My mouth gapes open like a fish. “You got issues, dude.”

“I get what I want, Angie. Always.”

I let out an uncomfortable giggle. “You sound like a petulant child that needs some sort of grounding.”

“I mean it. You are mine.”

I let out a sigh. “I’m asking you nicely to respect me enough to give me some time to figure things out. I’m on the verge of losing it from stress. And I just need to be by myself without you or Zander clouding up my vision.”

His eyes twitch at the mention of another man. “How long?”

My mouth dries over him actually considering this. “One week. No contact, no calls, no texts. Call off your guards too.”

“Hell no to the guards demand. How am I supposed to know you are safe?”

“Trust.”

“I don’t trust you. Not after you let a guy, who has been pining for you probably since the beginning, touch you.”

“Quit changing the subject.”

“It is a valid fact.”

I raise my brow. “It is blatantly an opinion.”

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