Page 91 of Taste of Addiction

“What?” I ask, turning to look at his expression.

“It’s not realistic, Angie. Plus, these men have zero game.”

“Of course it’s not realistic, Graham. It’s a movie.”

“Then why watch it or read it?”

“An escape.”

“Next time let’s pick something more relatable.”

“Like the news?”

“No. Like sci-fi.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, because the chances of aliens overtaking the world in the next century is a likely possibility.”

He laughs and gathers dirty dishes from the coffee table. I grab the trash and follow him into the kitchen to dispose of it.

When I get upstairs, I brush my teeth and then decide to just forgo all of my clothes and crawl into bed naked. It has been one of those days where my mind is completely fried and even making the simple choice of what to wear to bed is too much for me.

“I could get used to this,” Graham says, gathering me in his arms.

I lean my head against his chest and curl up beside him. “You’re so warm.”

Graham gets me tucked into the covers and reaches over into the nightstand to pull out my tattered book that we both have been guilty of reading. Me for fun; him for research. Or so he claims. He must have snagged it from my side when I wasn’t home.

I watch in awe as he flips open to a section I have already read and starts to recite the lines.

“Trent grabs my chin and kisses me senseless. Just like he did when we first met. Eight months later and he still has the same effect on me. We breathe as one. My arms circle up over his neck, and his hands bury themselves into my hair. He pulls away and my lips instantly mourn the loss of his touch. He smiles at my pout.”

“I love this next part,” I whisper. “Keep going.”

“Maintaining eye contact, Trent gets on one knee and pulls out a tiny pink velvet box from his back pocket. My eyes fill with tears as he reveals the solitaire diamond ring. ‘Margaret Marie Carlson, I freaking love you. Will you marry me?’”

“Yes,” I respond absentmindedly. I sit up and bend down to kiss Graham. Our tongues connect as he tosses the book toward the end table, missing it completely.

“For someone who doesn’t do the whole romance thing, you sure know how to make me melt,” I comment.

I lie back on the pillow and savor the sweetness of such an action. Lying in bed with a man who makes me weak in the knees, having him read romantic lines from a novel, as I snuggle into his side under the dim light of a lamp and fall asleep in his arms.

* * *

“You smell so good,” I moan, my voice hoarse from sleep.

“You feel so good. Especially when you are…” Graham flips me under him and presses his weight between my parted thighs. His bare chest, strong and tanned, is perfectly defined in the morning glow of the sunlight sneaking through the curtains. I can’t keep my hands from touching him.

“Helpless?” I interject.

“No, not helpless,” he disagrees with a shake of the head. “Cooperative.”

“I’m always cooperative.”

“Lies.” He nuzzles my neck with his nose and licks up the side, until he finds my waiting, deprived lips. “Hmm.”

I can feel his erection awaken with a twitch and lengthen along my bare thigh. Hell, he feels good.

I squeeze my way out from under him and sit up. “Let’s chat.”

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