Graham

It’s go time. I hope Zoe is up for this.

As we approach the house, I reach down and twine her fingers in mine, for appearance sake, because I know curious eyes are watching. And, well, because my fake fiancée looks like she needs it. “I would like to apologize now,” I tell her.

She looks up at me, stricken. “That bad?”

“Sort of,” I answer, honestly.

She stops. “You’re not bringing me here to make me some kind of sex slave are you? I probably should’ve asked that before now.” Panic widens her eyes. “Is that why you flew me here, all Christian Grey-like, so I couldn’t escape? I just wanted you to use my soaps, not punish me.”

“Zoe, god no…” I try to interrupt, but she continues to ramble.

“I’m not calling you Sir, and if I have to chew my way through those wood walls, I will.”

And then I do the only thing I can to stop her freak out, I cup her flushed cheeks with my palms and kiss the fuck out of her. Like a second skin, her curves meld to my body. I didn’t mean to kiss her, well actually that’s a lie, but maybe I don’t mean for it to go on this long. Zoe’s words are long gone from her lips as I kiss away the ache burning inside me.

With one hand in her hair, I finally pull away. “Everyone’s going to love you.” I try to calm her worries, because it’s true, everyone will love her. It’s me that’s in for the earful. “I’ll give you every key to every car and door, if that makes you feel better.”

“I’m sorry,” she says a little breathless, and still clinging to me. “I didn’t mean to freak out.”

I kiss her again, soft and slow, slipping my tongue in her mouth for a taste of sweetness, just because I want to, not because I know people are watching. She breaks the kiss, darting her eyes to the house, and I reluctantly step away.

Now it’s show time. We stroll to the front doors of my parent’s vacation lodge, and I don’t even need to knock before it opens.

“I was about to send out the search party,” my cousin, York, says. His dark eyes scan over Zoe. “But then I saw you trying to be all alpha and shit.”

“Shouldn’t you be chasing a puck or something?”

He grins. “You’re just jealous you’re not a hockey god.” His eyes shift to Zoe. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Graham?”

“This is Zoe. My fiancee.”

“I know you,” Zoe chimes in, looking a lot star struck. “York Steele. You’re the center for the Colorado Blizzard.”

“Hockey fan?” he asks, looking way more interested than he should in my fiancee. I narrow my eyes, listening to Zoe gush stats at him like she’s a sports announcer. What is this madness?

“I can hook you up with tickets to a game,” he tells her, and she looks like he just offered her the moon.

“I can get her tickets.” Hell, I could buy her the team. And maybe I will. I don’t know where this territorial feeling is coming from, York and I are like brothers. I mean, technically, if she were interested in him, she’s free to do so, but there’s no way she’d prefer him over me. If I’m being objective, he’s alright, his dark hair is a bit too long. Women seem to love him, but they love me too.

They continue their chit chat as we step inside.

My mother, dressed like she’s going to a boardroom in designer slacks and pink silk blouse, stands beside a life size nutcracker in the entryway. Her hazel eyes hone in on Zoe.

“Zoe, it’s nice to meet you,” she finally says, walking over to pull me in for a quick hug.

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Steele.”

“Please, call me Eleanor.” She beckons her staff to fetch our bags and take them to our rooms. “York, why don’t you take Zoe into the kitchen for some refreshments.”

Zoe gives me a wary look, and I smile and let her know I’ll be there soon. When they’re out of earshot, the interrogation begins.

“Why did you bring her here?” my mother asks.

“We’re in love. We’re getting married.” Being with Zoe the past few days, I almost kind of like the lie I’m telling.

“What’s her favorite color?”

I blow out a breath, fuck. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re in love, you’d know her favorite color.”

“Red,” I guess, based on the amount of the colors she’s worn in the whole two days I’ve known her. “I should check on her,” I say, abruptly walking out of the foyer and heading into the kitchen.

I spot Zoe standing at the island with York, and that’s when a laugh echoes that makes my skin crawl when I hear the small unmistakeable snort that goes along with it. Trudy Vesterlane.

Let me lay it all out on the line here— my mother is dead set on getting me hitched to Trudy Vesterlane. My mother thinks it will be a marriage made in Heaven since she’s best friends with Trudy’s mom. Her family vacations next to mine every year, and every year, despite my objections, it’s the same thing: Trudy and I paired up. Not this year. This year, I’m engaged.

Trudy enters the kitchen and stops short when she sees Zoe and I.

“Who’s this?” Trudy asks, her blue eyes glaring right at Zoe.

“My fiancee.”

“That’s unexpected,” Trudy says, assessing Zoe like a pony at a pony show. The contrast between them is stark. Where Zoe is warm and inviting, dark hair and carefree smile, Trudy is an ice queen, cold and snooty, blonde and a pinched smile that looks like someone shoved an icicle up her ass.

I grab Zoe’s hand. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.” We leave the frostiness in the kitchen behind and head toward the garland-wrapped grand staircase. She follows me up, quietly.

I peer over my shoulder. “Sorry about all of that.”

She smiles, but it’s strained. “It’s ok. It’s part of the deal, ya know?”

“Well, it shouldn’t be.”

“Were you and Trudy…” she trails off.

“Fuck no. Not for her lack of trying, though.”

“Ah,” she says as we enter the first room on the right. I shut the door behind us.

Zoe moves further into the large space, taking in the view of mountains from the floor-to-ceiling window on the far wall.

“This room is huge,” she says, admiring the dark wood furnishings. Her eyes stop on the faux reindeer head jutting from the wall between two butter-colored overstuffed armchairs, and she laughs. “I love it.”

“My mother themes the room every year, looks like you got Vixen.”

“Which do you get?”

“Prancer.”

She studies me, contemplating. “Well, I can see that. I read an article once where they ranked the reindeer, and Prancer came in second. He’s sweet and kind. A sensitive soul.”

Is that how she sees me? I make a mental note to be more badass. “I don’t like to be second,” I admit, resting my shoulder against the door frame. “I’m guessing red nose won.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. The only female on the team, obviously.” She thumbs over her shoulder, with a wink that sets my heart racing. “Vixen.”

How fucking appropriate. Cause that’s what she is. My dick hardens just from being alone with this girl. What is wrong with me? I can usually handle being in the same room as a pretty woman; I’m not a teenager for fuck’s sake. Right now, I don’t care about the situation, or all the people downstairs most likely talking about this relationship right now. I cross the room with purpose, that purpose being the need to touch Zoe. For the second in less than hour, our lips meet in a hungry kiss that makes me wonder what voodoo she possesses. Her tongue tangles with mine, and I tighten my grip on her. She tastes like peppermint and holiday wishes.

“Graham,” she whispers, breaking the kiss to run her lips along my jaw, “we shouldn’t be doing this here.”

She’s right. We shouldn’t. We should be on the bed.

I don’t know what’s come over me. It’s like a demon has possessed my body and put it into this constant state of horniness when I’m around her.

“I can’t help myself.”

She smells so good. Maybe it’s her soap, maybe she’s put some pheromone into it that turns me into this wild beast. I make another mental note to get an ingredient list.

I tug her closer, tearing at the button on the top of her jeans. Our lips meet again, and I unzip, and slip my fingers underneath her panties. “You’re so wet.” I groan against her lips, dipping into her heat.

“Graham,” she pleads, moving her hips against my hand.  

So, I keep going.

I slide a finger inside her tight heat, and rock myself against her to ease the pressure in my cock. “Tell me you want me, right here, right now.”

“I do,” she says as pump my finger inside her, hooking it at just the right angle. Her moans increase, and I slip another finger into her pussy and circle her clit with the pad of my thumb.

“Zoe, come for me, baby.” I’m so hard. I can’t take much more of this, and I want to come right alongside her.

“Oh god,” she murmurs, bucking faster. “Call me baby again.” Her fingers grip tighter at the base of my scalp, her nails digging into my heated flesh.

“You like when I call you baby?”

“Yes.”

She moans long and hard, her pussy vibrating around my fingers.

I kiss her as she rides out her orgasm. When her body calms, I release my grip. “You’re so fucking hot when you come,” I tell her. My dick is painful when I pull my hand from her jeans and lick my fingers, savoring the sweet taste of her.

She blushes and then zips her jeans. Just as the door flies open.