Page 47 of The Billionaire and His Forever

My phone sits lifeless next to me. I’ve been here for hours, and still no texts from Graham. No calls from Jude. Nothing from Amanda, either. I’m truly alone in this horrible apartment, away from everything I hold dear. I’m debating a bath to drown my woes in when I hear the sound of a key in the lock.

I freeze, heart leaping in my throat, terrified it’s Natasha. She might actually murder me if she catches me in here—especially wearing this dress. I bolt, and I’m halfway down the hall that goes to Jude’s room when I hear a voice call out. It’s Graham.

“Abbie?”

Slowly, I turn, and then make my way back to the living room on quiet bare feet. The second Graham hears my footsteps, he runs up to me and gathers me in his arms. I let him hold me tight, breathing the smell of him through his shirt as relief washes over me. He’s here. He’s really here. He came back for me.

“Are you okay?”

I can’t respond except to shake my head silently. And then all of me starts shaking.

We stand there, pressed together, his palms warm against my back and my hands locked around his waist. Graham whispers soft, soothing words into my hair, and I melt into him, tears spilling down my cheeks. He only holds me tighter, letting me get it all out, until the shaking stops and I pull back to wipe my eyes.

“I’m sorry it took so long to get back,” he says, leading me to the couch to sit down. “I wanted to see Jude, but by the time I got there she was already asleep, and then I had to meet with the staff to debrief everyone, and then the drive all the way back—”

I interrupt his explanation with a long kiss. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“God. This whole day has been such shit.” He sighs deeply, then laughs through his nose. “Well, not the whole day. It started off rather perfectly, if I do say so myself.”

“That feels like it was days ago.” It’s hard to believe it was only this morning that Graham snuck into my room to pleasure me just before what was supposed to be our wedding. “I can’t believe today was…today.”

“I can’t believe my wife is a common criminal,” he says with a healthy dose of teasing to his voice.

“Future wife,” I remind him ruefully, managing to keep the tears locked away. I don’t want to cry anymore, not with him here. “Though I suppose I’ll fit right in. You know what they say about the Ratliffs—common criminals, all of them.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Graham growls, nuzzling my neck.

My sadness evaporates in an instant, replaced by something else entirely, something more primal. Hungrier. When he sucks on my earlobe, my center runs hot and I let out a moan.

“I don’t know if we should be doing this, Graham. We’re not married yet,” I tease.

In between the kisses he’s trailing down my neck, he says, “Nonsense. I demand that you be my wife. Today. Now. This very second.”

I laugh, just a little. “Do you know anyone who can get here now to officiate?”

“No. But I have a better idea.”

“Which is…?”

Graham pulls me off the couch and walks me over to the window, then carefully spins me so my back is against his chest. Our reflections meld together in the glass, and I watch him drop a row of kisses across each of my shoulders, his fingers gently running down my arms. I watch him caress me in front of all of New York City, his hands expertly working my dress off, until I’m left standing there in my strapless corset, garter belt, and ivory silk underwear.

“I don’t think this is going to make us married,” I whisper, head falling to the side so he can kiss higher up my neck. “We’ve done this plenty and haven’t been wed.”

“You don’t think so?” Graham murmurs, keeping himself very busy. I take a deep breath and goosebumps of pleasure break out across my skin. “Consummating the marriage is a very important step.”

“But we didn’t get to the marriage part,” I murmur, the words dripping slowly out of my mouth like molasses. He is so very good at doing things to me. I can barely even stand, thanks to how weak my knees are. “We can’t consummate what didn’t happen.”

“Who says we need someone else to marry us?” he says.

“Um, the state?”

Graham laughs. He wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on the top of my head. “There has always been marriage, my love, but the state is fairly new.”

“The state has been around for hundreds of years.”

“And people for a millennia. How do you think they celebrated unions?”

Something hot and heavy flares in my lower belly. “Naughty boy.”

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