Page 116 of Stolen Vows

“Take me upstairs, Graham,” I whisper again, softer this time, my fingers curling the hair at the nape of his neck.

He exhales sharply, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath my touch. Then he moves.

One second, I’m sprawled across his lap on the couch, the next, I’m in his arms, my chest pressed against his as he stands effortlessly, lifting me like I weigh nothing. A startled laugh catches in my throat as I grab onto his shoulders for balance.

“Wait—Romeo,” I manage breathlessly.

Graham doesn’t stop moving, but he jerks his chin toward the stairs with a sharp whistle. “Romeo.”

My dog huffs dramatically from the other side of the couch before standing to stretch his front legs. He jumps off the couch and does a full-body shake before trotting after us.

We strides toward the stairs, his hands palming my ass and holding me flush against his chest.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” I murmur, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“I know.” He takes the stairs two at a time, and I’m almost positive he’s doing it to prove a point.

I wiggle my hips a little when we get to my bedroom, a silent request to be put down. But my husband just grunts and tightens his hold on me until I feel the tip of his cock brush against me.

Graham gets Romeo in his kennel, turns on his white noise machine, and marches us into his bedroom without saying a word.

He doesn’t set me down until we’re in his bedroom, the door clicking shut softly behind us. The room is dark, the only light coming from the street lamps outside, their orange glow shining through the open blinds. It casts his features in sharp relief, all angles and shadows.

My heart pounds against my ribs as he slowly lowers me to the bed, his hands skimming down my sides, his touch scorching even through the thin fabric of my shirt. He stands between my parted thighs, his gaze roaming over me hungrily, possessively. Like he wants to devour me whole.

I wouldn’t say no.

“You sure, sunshine?”

I nod, once, twice, three times. “Yes.”

My breath catches in my throat as Graham’s hands slide beneath the hem of my shirt, his rough palms skimming over the sensitive skin of my stomach. He takes his time, exploring every inch of newly exposed flesh as he slowly pushes the fabric up, up, until it bunches just below my breasts.

“Arms up,” he commands, his voice a low rumble that I feel in my bones.

I obey without thought, lifting my arms above my head. He tugs the shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside carelessly. Cool air kisses my overheated skin, making me shiver despite the heat simmering just beneath the surface. His gaze rakes over me, hot and heavy, lingering on the swell of my breasts encased in delicate lace.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

He leans down, his lips finding the hollow of my throat, and I gasp at the first hot press of his mouth against my skin. He kisses a trail down my chest, his beard rasping deliciously, sending sparks of sensation racing through me.

When he reaches the valley between my breasts, he pauses, his breath fanning across the goosebumps pebbling my skin. I arch my back, silently begging for more contact, more friction, more of him.

He chuckles, low and dark, the sound vibrating against my flesh. Then his hands are cupping my breasts, kneading them as his thumbs brush over my nipples, already hard and aching.

“Graham,” I breathe, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him to me.

He hums in response, the sound muffled against my skin. Then his mouth closes over one nipple, sucking it through the thin lace. I cry out, my back arching off the bed as pleasure zings through me, hot and electric. His tongue swirls and flicks, teasing me mercilessly until I’m writhing beneath him, panting and desperate for more.

“Please,” I whimper, not even sure what I’m begging for. I just know I need him, all of him, right now.

He releases my nipple with a soft pop, his hands smoothing down the sides of my ribcage. He toys with the waistband of my lounge shorts. “I need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

I exhale shakily, desire swirling inside me. “I’m ready,” I breathe. “I promise I’m ready.”

But he just smirks, his fingers dipping beneath the elastic of my shorts to stroke along the crease of my hip. “I don’t know, sunshine. I think I need to check for myself.”

With that, he slowly drags my shorts and panties down my legs, his knuckles grazing my skin and leaving trails of fire in their wake. I lift my hips to help him, kicking the offending cotton and lace off and leaving me bare.

---