Page 80 of The Exception

Graham flipped me over so I was lying on my stomach. I wondered if he was trying to regain control after my comment. Control over me? Over himself? Maybe just over the situation.

And he was doing a good job of it—distracting me. Especially when he trailed his fingers down my back, eliciting a shudder.

I glanced at him over my shoulder, biting back a groan at the sight of him. God, he was sexy. A sculpted chest that would make an artist weep. A dark trail of hair that led to his long, proud cock.

He leaned forward, and with his hands resting on my hips, he asked, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” I wiggled my butt in invitation. I didn’t want to go back to his cold façade, and I could tell that was what he was trying to do. He might be checking in with me, but he was also checking out. It was kind of fascinating to watch him battle himself.

He gripped my hips, my ass, giving it the most delicious squeeze. I knew this was a bad idea, but that was a problem for future me. Because if having sex got Graham to open up to me, even briefly, to communicate with me, then I wasn’t sure I could regret it.

Graham lined himself up with my entrance, slowly sheathing himself inch by delicious inch. It was torture of the best kind. I moaned into the mattress, overwhelmed by the feel of having him so deep inside me.

I was still pissed. But currently, my brain was too overwhelmed with pleasure to think much beyond the present. Beyond the feel of the way our bodies were connected.

He grasped my hips and pulled me up so my ass was in the air, my cheek pressed to the bed. I closed my eyes, gasping at the new position, at the depth. It was so intense. Almost too intense.

“You okay?” he asked, checking in with me again.

I nodded.

“Lil?” he bit out, and I realized how much restraint it took to hold himself still. And yet he waited, seeking that verbal confirmation.

“Yes.” I swallowed. “Yes.But I need you to move.”

He gave my ass a squeeze and edged himself in a little deeper. I hadn’t realized he wasn’t fully seated until then. I sucked in a jagged breath at the sensation of fullness. I gripped the sheets, twisting the material in my fists, as if to gain purchase.

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” It sounded like it pained him. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Look at you, using your words,” I teased, wanting to get us back to that place where he was playful and engaged.

His hand gave a sharp crack as it hit my ass, scorching my skin. Pain and pleasure bloomed in the spot where he’d spanked me, and I closed my eyes as I tried to find my bearings. I’d never been spanked. Never even considered that it was something I might enjoy, let alone with my ex-boss.

I was supposed to be in control. I was the one making the demands, and yet, he’d completely flipped the script once again.

Up was down. Day was night. We might be moored on the yacht, but I felt lost at sea. Especially when he smoothed his hand over the skin, rubbing circles until the sensation faded. How could he shift so quickly from punishing to tender? How did he seem to anticipate exactly what I needed when I wasn’t even sure what I wanted?

“Love your curves.”

He did?

While I was still grappling with that revelation, he gripped my hip with one hand and smoothed the other up my spine. I felt his desire in every caress. I melted beneath his touch, my body going into overdrive. My pleasure building and building until I thought I might explode.

Oh god.I nearly whimpered at the sensations.

“Are you close?” he rasped, his control slipping. “Please tell me you’re close,mon bijou.”

It was the sound of the French term for “my jewel” on his lips that nearly pushed me over the edge. “Yes.” My voice was breathy. It didn’t even sound like me.

“I can feel your pretty cunt squeezing my cock. God—” I moaned in response to his words. “You’re so tight. So perfect.”

He seemed to have no problem finding his words now. If only I could get him to communicate like this with me all the time. But then I imagined his deep, roughened voice whispering such naughty things to me over dinner with his family, and I nearly came on the spot.

“I’m almost there,” I cried out. “But I want us to come together.” I felt as if I were holding on for dear life as he pounded into me, chasing our mutual release.

“Partners,” he said.

“Partners,” I repeated, my mind freezing on that word even though my thoughts were barely coherent.

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