by Logan Chance
This isn’t real, so I point to a platinum band with an oval diamond. It’s the smallest of the three, but still heavy and cumbersome when I try it on. I’ll need to cart my hand around in a wheelbarrow.
“We’ll take it,” Graham says, appreciating the ring on my finger.
I smile, trying my best to gush like the bride to be, but then another ring catches my eye. One not from the exclusive vault collection. It’s different, with a rose gold band and vintage vibe, and judging by its positioning in the case, probably much less expensive.
“May I see this one?” I just want to see it closer. It’s like the ring is calling my name. It’s probably my grandmother’s ghost, and when I slip it on, her face will appear and ask me what the hell I’m doing.
Charles frowns, but obliges anyway. “This is a James Allen natural diamond ring.”
Thankfully, grandma Lila does not appear as I study the facets and fall in love with its character. When I get engaged for real, this is the one. I remove the gaudy spectacle on my left finger, and slide this one home. And that’s exactly how it feels, like home on my finger.
Graham takes my hand, sending little goosebumps flaring across my skin. “This ring was made for your finger.”
“It’s...wow.” I can’t find the words to finish my thought.
“We’ll take the vintage style one instead,” Graham informs Charles.
“Really? But the other is premium.”
“What my baby wants, my baby gets.”
His words send a ripple of lust through my veins. It’s silly, I know, and this is all pretend, but this desire is also what I want when I’m for real engaged. I look up at Graham. “It’s really ok,” I say. I don’t want to ruin the facade before it even begins.
He leans down and whispers against my ear for only me to hear. “Every ring in this shop is an acceptable ring my mother would believe.”
I nod, and my heart kind of has its own hesitations, but I throw caution to the wind, and take the offer. Twenty minutes later, it’s official: we’re fake engaged.
After we finish with the ring, and buy me some new clothes for my stay as his fiancée, we hop into the SUV and head off toward his mother’s. I flip the radio to a station playing “Silent Night.”
He switches the station to another.
“Not even Silent Night?” I balk.
“No.”
“Graham the Grump. No wait, Graham the Grinch. That’s what I’m going to call you from now on.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t.”
The authority he says it with, and the hooded gaze he gives me, causes me to shift in my seat, envisioning a spanking from him. I think I’d like that. Nothing too much, I’m not into whips and chains, just a hard spank, while he calls me baby. God, I have to stop this. No sex. This is business. “Why do you hate Christmas so much?” I ask to swipe the smut from my mind.
“Because, listen…,” he turns the radio off, “it’s just not enjoyable.”
“I think you’re just not doing it right.”
He glances over to me with a wicked glint in his eye. “There’s a wrong way to do it?”
His words drip with sexual innuendo. “I didn’t mean that.” Judging by my epic orgasm, we both know he knows exactly what he’s doing in that department.
“I should probably warn you, my mother is kind of old school.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s going to assume we haven’t had sex.”
“Ah, I see.” I can play angel around his mother. Heck, I can be an angel and wear wings around his mother.
I don’t really understand all of this, though. He’s a grown man, a very sexy grown man. He’s successful and fucks like a stallion. So, I don’t see why he needs to pretend that he’s engaged. He could probably have a real fiancée in the blink of an eye.
Old money, I guess. Elite eccentricities I’ve never been privy to in my life. Like helicopters and helipads. Because that’s where Graham pulls in and parks—a helipad.
“My parent’s vacation house is a bit hard to reach after a heavy snowfall,” he says as if we just pulled into a gas station.
I point to the white helicopter, its blades already spinning. “We’re going in that?”
“Yeah, we are.” He turns to face me before we head over. “You’re not afraid to fly, are you?”
I shake my head, hoping the fear of flying falls away as I keep shaking. “No, no. I’m pretty sure the pilot knows what he’s doing.”
Graham laughs, softly. “He sure does.”
And the joke’s on me, because as soon as we get to the chopper, the man in the front gets out. “It’s all ready for you,” he screams over the roar of the blades. “And you'll have a vehicle waiting for you at your parent's house when you land.”
Graham nods before helping me inside the chopper. He takes the headset from the man and climbs into the pilot’s seat.
Remember how I said it was all easy before? Like taking cake from a baby, or whatever idiotic thing I said, well, I’m terrified now. This is real. What kind of house do you travel to by helicopter? Who are these people? Is there going to be a red room when I get there?
I try to smile as Graham hands me a headset, but my nerves get the best of me. “Are you sure you know how to fly?”
His sensual lips curve slowly into a smile. “I’ve seen a lot of movies.” He grabs the control stick. “I think I just wiggle this thing around.”
His humor isn’t funny at a moment like this, and he must sense I’m about to jump out, because he reaches his hand across, and gently squeezes my knee. “Relax,” he soothes, “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”
I believe the sincerity on his face and take a deep breath, or at least I try to, and the nausea settles a bit.
And then the helicopter leaves the Earth. The ground below gets further and further away, and I keep my eyes glued on it, watching the helipad get smaller and smaller.
“You doing ok?” Graham’s voice fills my headset.
I glance over and force a smile. “Define ok.”
He laughs. The intoxicating sound relaxes me. I mean, if he can laugh we’re obviously not crashing to our deaths. I finally look out the front window, watching the trees in the distance get closer as he flies us over snow-covered pine trees.
It’s really kind of beautiful up here.
He navigates between a gap in the mountain, racing through the skies, and I relax a little more. It’s actually kind of freeing up here. I could get used to this. I could get really used to experiencing new things with him.
But, I remember why I’m here, and let those thoughts go. After a few more minutes, Graham points to a speck of a cabin in a clearing.
And as we get closer, I realize the word cabin is too tiny for what we’re approaching. The place is massive, sprawling across the land like a wooden castle. Glass windows cover three-quarters of the house, and it’s stunning.
“You grew up here?” I ask.
“No, my parents bought this after we moved out.”
“We?”
He laughs. “My sister, Lindsey and me.”
“Ah, will she be here as well?”
“I’m not sure. She has two kids, and a great husband, but sometimes they spend it with his family.”
“The little girl from the mall?”
He nods. It’s hard to imagine Graham attached to people. That came out wrong. It’s hard to picture him as anything...normal. Or human. Because all of this has been a whirlwind, with no time to process.
“Won’t she recognize me?”
“Probably. You’re kind of hard to forget.”
My face blushes, and a warmth spreads through my body. And as he smiles, landing on the helipad, I’m not sure it’s a good thing if I see the real man behind the business deal, because, once this is over, he’s definitely going to be hard to forget.
Chapter 7
Graham
It’s go time. I hope Zoe is up for th
is.
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 fiancée.”
“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 fiancée. 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 fiancée.”
“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 the 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. I cross the room with purpose, that purpose being the need to touch Zoe.
For the second time in less than an 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 he
lp 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 slip my fingers into her panties. “You’re so wet.” I groan against her mouth, 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 it 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.
Chapter 8
Zoe
Hells bells, it’s hard to pull yourself together after an epic orgasm when two children are prancing around the room, yelling for their ‘Uncle Graham’ to pick them up and see their pretty pink dresses.
“This is Gia,” Graham holds the youngest dark-haired girl, “and this is June.” He wraps his arm around the older of the two little girls, the girl from the mall. He gives a kiss to Gia before putting her down. “Ok, go downstairs, girls, and I’ll be right there.”
They bound from the room, and Graham gives me a half-smile. “My nieces.” He scrubs a hand at the back of his neck. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
