Page 66 of Taste of Addiction

“Hmm?” he says casually. “Consider it like a temporary tattoo.”

“Oh yeah, this totally looks like a butterfly or dolphin.”

“Actually”—he drags a finger slowly over the sore skin—“it looks like a perfect replica of my teeth.”

His words come out so seriously that I burst into laughter over his literalness. “I’m going to need a lot of makeup to cover it up. It’s already turning purple.”

Graham moves behind me and wraps me in his arms. His lips kiss my mark and lick along the barely bruised skin. I would be lying if I said I didn’t find it hot. The mark. The kiss. Everything. His animalistic side is one I try to bring out. So, for me to complain over the ramifications of me making him lose control would be silly.

“I love seeing my mark on your pale pure flesh. Do not cover it up.”

I turn in his arms and stretch up to give him a kiss to the lips. “Pretty sure the world knows I’m taken.” I just hope they will relearn that it is by him. The whole fake engagement thing has probably thrown everyone for a loop.

“Good. But that still doesn’t stop assholes from trying to get you to notice them.”

I’m not really sure if he is speaking of some specific asshole or just the generic ones. We finish tidying ourselves up and walk toward the exit. Graham opens the door, stifles a gasp, and reaches for my hand.

14

I glance up to see four people waiting in line to use the restroom we are now exiting. The three guys in line give us knowing grins. The woman looks like she is disgusted by our actions that I assume she heard. Dang. I keep my eyes on the floor as we walk past the line, while Graham leads me out into the actual eating area.

“Is this what they mean by the walk of shame?” I grumble, once we are in the clear.

“Wouldn’t know.”

I peek a look up at him and wonder if he is referring to differences in genders or if he just has never partaken in a sexual romp that left him embarrassed. I skip inquiring because we are next in line to order; plus, I’d really rather not know. I examine the menu and decide a hot beverage would taste good since I am starting to feel the chill from my body coming down from the high.

“What would you guys like?” the teen worker asks.

Graham rubs a hand along my lower back to encourage me to order first. “Can I please get a medium gingerbread latte with skim?”

“And you?” the worker asks.

“Make that two lattes and add a large cinnamon roll.”

“Heated?”

“Please.”

Graham finishes paying and we find a place in the corner to sit. Our order gets delivered and we do what normal couples do—enjoy each other’s company doing mundane things like visiting coffee shops.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” I say softly.

He reaches across the table and squeezes the hand that is not holding my drink cup. “Always, baby. Always. And I enjoy doing it.”

I give him a half smile in return. I really hope he is telling the truth. Because this year has not been the easiest on me, and I am taking way more than I am giving back. I wonder if I will ever catch up to my IOUs. But that is not how Graham treats me. He never acts like I am indebted to him for anything.

My phone vibrates, and I fish it out of my jacket pocket to see that Claire has sent me a message and pic. I open the app and laugh at her pouty face selfie.

Claire: I’m in need of a Girls’ Night. You game?

We have a lot of catching up to do. When I was at the safe house, we video chatted nearly every day it seemed. Now life is getting back to normal and things get in the way. I type out an info-seeking response.

Angie: When and where?

I see the dots that indicate she is typing and wait patiently for her to reply.

“Something definitely has you preoccupied,” Graham says, eyeing my phone. “Everything okay?”

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