Chapter 159

Chapter 46

Isla’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly as his words painted a vivid picture in her mind. She could almost feel it—the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the heat of his skin against hers, the way his hands would roam her body, claiming every inch of her. His voice, rough and demanding, echoed in her thoughts, promising pleasure so intense it would leave her trembling and spent.

Graham’s gaze burned into her, his eyes dark with a hunger that made her knees weak. There was no mistaking the intent behind his words, no escaping the raw, primal need that radiated from him. He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t pleading. He was telling her, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, exactly how things would be.

“I won’t stop,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear again, “until you’re completely, utterly mine. Until you’re begging for more, until you can’t think of anything but me.” His grip on her wrist tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to remind her of his strength, of the control he wielded so effortlessly. “And you will be. Mine. In every way.”

She did it. She signed. And as the ink dried on the paper, Isla’s mind raced with a flurry of excuses, reasons, justifications—anything to explain why she had just agreed to something so monumental, so irreversible. But deep down, beneath the layers of doubt and hesitation, the truth burned bright and unrelenting: she wanted him. She wanted Graham with a hunger that had only intensified after the tantalizing taste he had given her the night before.

The memory of his touch, his kiss, his hands on her body, had consumed her thoughts all morning. Even as they drove here, her mind had wandered back to the way he had made her feel—alive, electric, utterly undone. She had replayed every moment in her head, over and over, until her body ached with the need for more. If just the beginning had felt so incredible, so earth-shattering, how would it feel when they finally came together completely? The thought alone sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through her.

Last night, when his lips had first met hers, it had been like a spark igniting a fire. His kiss was demanding yet tender, his mouth claiming hers with a possessiveness that left her breathless. And then his hands—those strong, sure hands—had explored her body with a confidence that made her tremble. When his fingers had brushed against her breasts, she had gasped, her nipples hardening instantly, so sensitive that even the slightest touch sent waves of pleasure rippling through her.

But it was when he had touched her there, between her legs, that she had truly lost herself. The sensation had been electric, a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure that had left her gasping and arching into his touch. His fingers had been skilled, deliberate, teasing her until she was trembling on the edge of something she had never experienced before. The way he had looked at her, his eyes dark with desire, had only heightened the intensity, making her feel both exposed and cherished at the same time.

Now, sitting beside him, her body still thrummed with the memory of it. She felt a flush of heat spread through her, her skin tingling with the anticipation of what was to come. But along with the desire came a flicker of shame, a nagging voice in the back of her mind that whispered she was being vulgar, that wanting him so badly made her somehow less than proper. She had always been taught to guard her desires, to keep them hidden, but with Graham, it was impossible. He awakened something in her, something wild and untamed, and it both thrilled and terrified her.

She was ashamed to remember how much she had liked it. Ashamed of the way her body had responded to him, arching into his touch, craving more even when she told herself she shouldn’t. Ashamed of the sounds she had made, the way she had gasped and moaned, completely at his mercy. And most of all, ashamed of how much she had wanted him, how much she still wanted him, even now.

But it wasn’t just the memories of last night that left her flushed and breathless. It was what he had whispered to her just moments ago, his voice low and rough, his words dripping with promise and sin. Instead of being offended, instead of feeling anger or fear or anything else that might have made sense, a sliver of excitement had shot down her spine, igniting a fire deep within her. His words had been dirty, raw, and utterly shameless, and yet they had stirred something in her, something primal and undeniable.

Her body had betrayed her instantly. Between her legs, a throbbing ache had begun, a heat that spread through her like wildfire, pooling in the most sensitive part of her. It was as if his words had unlocked something deep inside her, something she had tried to ignore, to suppress. But now, it was impossible to deny. Her body was alive with need, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation.

She could feel the dampness there, the undeniable evidence of her arousal, and it only made her more embarrassed. How could she react this way? How could his words—so crude, so explicit—make her feel like this? It was as if her body had a mind of its own, responding to him in ways she couldn’t control. The ache between her legs was insistent, demanding, and she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the pressure, but it only made it worse.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to push the thoughts away, but they only grew stronger. She could almost feel his hands on her again, his fingers teasing her, stroking her, driving her to the edge of pleasure. She could almost hear his voice, whispering those filthy, beautiful things in her ear, promising her more, so much more.

And the worst part was, she wanted it. She wanted all of it. The shame, the embarrassment, the desire—it all tangled together inside her, a storm of emotions that left her trembling. She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his in every way. She wanted to feel that electric current of pleasure again, to lose herself in the heat of his body, in the intensity of his desire.

But that wasn’t the only thing she desired. She desired a family, a home, a husband. her thoughts spun wildly, a swirling mix of emotions as she stared at the marriage certificate. It wasn't just the looming threat of Graham's command that held her in place—it was something else, something deeper, something she'd buried for so long.

Her mind, against her will, began to wander. She had spent years pushing this dream aside, convincing herself it was an illusion, something that only existed in fairy tales. But now, as she sat there, trapped in the moment, she found herself imagining a life with him. Not just any life, but the life she had always secretly desired, even though she’d never dared to admit it.

She saw them—Graham and her—together on their honeymoon, the golden sand beneath their feet, the warm Bahamian sun kissing their skin. The rhythmic crash of the waves in the background, the cool breeze tousling her hair. It felt like a scene straight out of a dream. In her mind’s eye, she could see them laughing together, sharing moments of pure joy as they explored the beauty of the world hand in hand. She could almost feel the salt of the sea air on her lips as they sat together on the beach, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon, the sky painted with hues of orange and pink.

The image shifted, and she found herself envisioning their first marriage anniversary. A quiet, intimate dinner, just the two of them. Soft candlelight flickering between them, casting shadows on their faces as they shared a meal. She could hear the clink of silverware, the soft murmur of their conversation, their laughter—real, unguarded laughter. It was a celebration of something deeper than just the passing of time—it was a celebration of their love, of the bond they had built.

And then there was the dream of their first child. She could see the tiny hands reaching out to her, a little one with Graham’s eyes and her smile. The image was so vivid, so real, that it made her chest ache with a longing she had tried to suppress for so long. She could see them—Graham and her—holding their child together, their family complete, their love deepened by the gift of parenthood.

She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining them growing old together, sitting side by side on a porch somewhere, their hands intertwined as they watched the world change around them. She could hear the soft hum of a life well-lived—the rhythm of their days marked by simple moments of happiness and contentment. It was a future she had dreamed of, a future that felt so right, so perfect, that it made everything else seem small and insignificant.

But there was that voice again, the one that had always whispered in the back of her mind, warning her of the inevitable heartbreak. She had always feared that this dream, this perfect life, was just that—a dream. Because in the past, every time she had allowed herself to imagine a future with Graham, it had always ended in disappointment. It had always ended in a cruel reality that shattered her heart.

But now, the dream was standing right in front of her. All she had to do was sign that piece of paper, take that step, and the future she had always longed for could be hers. The thought was terrifying, yes, but the desire for it was stronger than any fear she had. The chance was there—just one signature away from the life she had always imagined.

Why not do it? Why not take the chance and marry the man she had loved all this time?

So, she signed it.