Page 130 of Resisting Mr. Granville

I use her hair to tug her off my cock. My gaze is hot when I look down at her, my voice hoarser than usual. “On the bed.”

She licks her lips with anticipation, then gets to her feet and goes over to the bed like she was told.

Such a good girl.

Before I can join her, a knock sounds at the door.

Are you fucking kidding me?

“The goddamn house had better be on fire,” I call without opening it.

Then I hear my son’s voice, and my hands clench into fists at my sides. “Tell Kennedy her sandwiches are ready.”

“Go the fuck away, Jonathan.”

Kennedy turns and hides her face in the mattress.

“Kennedy’s hungry. Wanted to make sure all her needs were being met,” he calls back.

That little fucker.

“My needs are being met very well,” she assures him. “You and Jet can split the sandwiches.”

“You sure? You might be eating for two. I can bring a couple of sandwiches up for you—serve you for a change.”

I shove my cock away but don’t bother buttoning my pants. Cracking open the door just enough to glare, I tell him, “Go away.”

“I had a nightmare,” he says mockingly, pulling a pout.

I shoot him a narrowed look and then shut the door in his face.

“Guess I’m on my own, huh?” he says dryly.

Christ.

I’m irritated as I walk away from the door and toward the bed, but I don’t let him interrupt any further.

I approach the bed and see Kennedy poised to apologize for him—again—but I stop her before she can. “Don’t say it.”

She snaps her mouth shut, but I can see she’s still worried.

I don’t let her see that I am, too.

I made my intentions pretty clear downstairs, and he knows I wanted our first time together to be special for her, so deliberately interrupting it is pretty fucking selfish.

It’s alarming, but if he’s developed a little crush on her, he’ll have to get over it. I don’t give a fuck who was inside her first. Kennedy is mine, not his.

I’m also concerned about the way she anxiously gnaws on her bottom lip, her gaze flickering to the door.

I don’t know if he’s still on the other side, but I don’t care—and she shouldn’t, either.

Kennedy gasps as I reach beneath her delicate nightie and yank her white lacy panties down her smooth thighs. I drag them to her knees, then bend to kiss the inside of each one before I tug them the rest of the way off.

“You worried he’s listening?” I ask, causing her eyes to widen guiltily. “Let him fucking listen.”

Her teeth sink into her fleshy bottom lip, but she won’t dare argue with me—not about him. “I—I wasn’t worried,” she insists.

It’s not good enough.

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