Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
Booking a hotel is the sensible action to take. Informing Graham is the adult thing to do. I will be both sensible and adult. With the web page for the Warwick Hotel open on my laptop, ready and waiting for me to finish reserving a room, I tap out a note.
CJ: Thank you again for the offer to stay at your place. I’m so grateful, but I’ve decided I should stay at a hotel. I don’t want to cramp your style, and sleeping over night after night was never part of our bargain.
Graham: Part of the bargain? That’s not what this is about. I don’t want you to stay with me as part of a bargain. I want you to stay with me because I like having you with me. And for the record, you aren’t cramping my anything. Is this because of Lucy?
“No,” I mutter to myself. “Not in the way you think, anyway.”
There’s no way Graham can know how Lucy has made me realize how vulnerable my heart is. Not to mention my sanity. Graham literally makes women crazy with wanting him, and I don’t need crazy in my life. I like peace, harmony, and routine, thank you very much. I get more than enough crazy dealing with twenty employees and an out-of-state production and warehouse situation.
I decide to lean on a little humor.
CJ: I don’t think multiple sleepovers are in the sex education curriculum.
Graham: Multiple orgasms are, though, and they’re aided by multiple sleepovers. Plus, last time I checked, I was the teacher. And the teacher would like his model student in his bed.
Since humor isn’t working, I’ll need to break out the big guns. I gulp. Time to be direct.
CJ: You are, but I don’t need to learn how to be a considerate houseguest. I know how to do that. And in this situation, that means I should stay in a hotel.
He doesn't reply right away, and I set my phone down to focus on work, then it buzzes again with a text.
Graham: This isn’t about being a houseguest. This isn’t about politeness, CJ. This is something else, since I’m pretty sure until my ex showed up that you enjoyed spending the night with me too. It’s over with her. It’s history. And I truly want you to stay with me. So what is it going to take for you to give me another chance to convince you? I’d really like to fall asleep with you again, and wake up with you, and do everything in between.
I’m starting to type a reply when my phone rings. His name is big and bold. Demanding. Like him.
And damn it, I like his demands, which is part of the problem.
“Hello, Graham,” I say, playing it cool. I love that he’s calling to plead his case—it makes me feel special—but I truly intend to book that room.
“Butterfly.” His tone is firm, a little commanding, a lot sexy.
“Yes?”
“You are one tough woman, and it sounds like your mind is made up. But I can be pretty persuasive. Give me twenty minutes to change your mind.”
A shiver runs through me. Is he suggesting some afternoon delight? The idea is, well . . . a whole lot more than delightful. “Are you saying you’d like to pop over to my office and—”
“—bend you over your desk and remind you why you want to stay at my place?”
The shiver turns into a pulse, beating low and hot in my belly. Still, I try my best to think rationally. “Graham, this isn’t about sex or lessons.”
“I know, Butterfly. Trust me. And that’s precisely why I’m not coming to your office to bend you over the desk. Nor to spread you out in front of me and devour your sweet pussy.” His voice is husky, and a small gasp escapes my lips at his words. “I’m not going to shut the door to your office or kiss you until you melt for me the way you did the first night, the way you do every night. Even though I want that. Badly.”
I grip the edge of my desk, tingles spreading like wildfire across my skin. God, I want that badly too. Must. Stay. Strong.
“So what are you going to do?” I ask evenly.
“Just wait. You’ll have the answer in twenty minutes.”
He hangs up.
I shake my head, trying to rid it of thoughts of that man. The trouble is, he seems dead-set on convincing me, and judging from the flush flooding my cheeks, my body wants to be convinced. But I need to stick to my plan. Batten down the hatches. Time to be an iron butterfly without a single soft spot in my armor.
On impulse, I reach out, punching the intercom and calling my intern. “Katie, could you grab me one of those green smoothies from the market downstairs? The kind with extra kale and seaweed?”