Page 92 of Stolen Vows

“You’re perfect exactly as you are, Francesca. And it’s a good thing these shelves aren’t any taller,” he replies smoothly, leaning a shoulder against the bookcase. “Wouldn’t want my wife to need a step stool.”

I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “I can reach the top shelf just fine, thank you very much.”

Graham’s lips twitch, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Sure you can, sunshine. That’s why I had to fix the inconsistent depths for you.”

I scoff, but a smile tugs at my mouth. There’s something so easy about this banter with him, a playfulness that feels natural, unforced. Like we’ve been doing this dance for years instead of months.

“You’re lucky you’re so hot,” I mutter, shaking my head.

His eyebrows lift, a slow, devastating smile spreading across his face. “You think I’m hot?”

Heat floods my cheeks and I look away, suddenly fascinated by the bookshelf in front of me. “I mean, wearemarried.”

He chuckles, a low, warm sound that wraps around me like an embrace. “Right. About that.” He pushes off the bookshelf and saunters toward me, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

My heart trips in my chest as he nears, his large frame taking up more and more space until he’s right in front of me, crowding me back against the bookshelf. His hands come to rest on either side of my head, caging me in. His warmth bleeds into me, his clean scent filling my head until I’m dizzy with it.

“I didn’t properly greet my wife, did I?”

I let my head fall back onto one of the shelves behind me. My tongue darts out to wet my lips, tasting the sweetness of anticipation. “Must’ve slipped your mind.”

He hums, closing the distance between us. “A mistake I won’t make again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine with every word.

“Prove it,” I whisper against his mouth, a challenge and an invitation all at once.

He captures my lips in a searing kiss. It’s deep and possessive, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to stake his claim. I moan into his mouth, my hands flying up to grip his shoulders, anchoring myself to him.

He presses me further into the bookshelf, the hard planes of his body molding to my softer curves. Desire licks through me, hot and urgent, pooling low in my belly.

It’s over as quickly as it begins. He breaks the kiss, pulling back a step. “How’s that for a proper greeting?”

“Much better,” I manage, still a little dazed from the intensity of his kiss.

He smirks, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he takes in my kiss-swollen mouth. “Ready for our coffee walk?”

“Oh, shoot. I’m not dressed for that long of a walk. If I would’ve known, I would have worn different shoes. But I have a couple things I was going to bring to your house?—”

“Our house.”

I smirk and nod. “Our house.” I don’t think of it as my house yet, not really. But I think I could get there one day.

I repeat the words in my head.Our house. It still feels like I’m a guest, like I’m playing house instead of actually living there. I’m sure it’s because it’s only been a day. But when he says it so easily, like it’s a given, something inside me warms. I think I could get there one day.

He studies me for a beat. “What shoes?”

I frown. “What?”

“What shoes do you need?”

“Oh, just my sneakers.”

He nods once. “Keys?”

I blink at him, confused. “What?”

“Your car keys, sunshine.”

My brows furrow but I dig in my purse, pulling out my key ring and handing it over. “Why do you need my keys?”