Chapter 162

Chapter 49

Isla’s face burned with a deep, crimson blush, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and lingering arousal. Graham’s dirty innuendos had left her utterly flustered, and she buried her face against his chest, hiding beneath the strong line of his jaw as if it could shield her from the heat of his words. His low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through her, his arms wrapping around her in a tight, possessive hug that made her feel both safe and utterly claimed. She could feel the steady thud of his heartbeat against her ear, a comforting rhythm that contrasted sharply with the wild, erratic pounding of her own.

But after a few moments, she felt him stir, his body shifting as if preparing to leave. Her arms instinctively tightened around his neck, her fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair as she clung to him. “Stay,” she murmured, her voice soft and pleading, her lips forming a pout that she knew he couldn’t resist. “Pleaaase.”

Graham hesitated, his body tense as he looked down at her, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and frustration. “I can’t,” he said, his voice rough, almost pained. The words were clipped, as if it took every ounce of his self-control to say them.

Isla frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Why not?” she asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and a hint of hurt. She didn’t understand why he would pull away now, when they were so close, when the air between them was still thick with the heat of what they had just shared.

Graham sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words. He looked down at her, his gaze softening as he saw the genuine puzzlement in her eyes. “Because…” he began, his voice gentle but strained, “just like I took care of you right now, I need to take care of myself. I’m in pain otherwise.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Isla’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her. Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck and across her chest, as she finally understood what he meant. She had been so caught up in her own pleasure, in the way he had made her feel, that she hadn’t stopped to consider what it had cost him. The thought of him being in pain—of him needing relief just as desperately as she had—made her stomach flutter with a strange mix of guilt and arousal.

She slowly loosened her grip on him, her arms sliding from around his neck as she nodded, her gaze dropping to the sheets. “Oh,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I… I didn’t realize.”

Graham’s expression softened, and he reached out to tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. This is just how it is for now.” He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips warm against her skin. “Soon,” he murmured, his breath fanning across her face, “there’ll be no more need for this sneaking around. No more stopping halfway. When you’re mine

Graham exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already tousled hair as he sat up on the edge of the bed. The air between them was still thick with heat, the remnants of their passion lingering in the dimly lit room. Isla lay beneath the sheets, her bare shoulder peeking out as she watched him through half-lidded eyes, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

“I should go now,” he murmured, almost to himself, raking his fingers through his hair again. “I think I heard Maggie coming this way. And if she finds me here, she will scalp me alive.”

Isla arched a brow, propping herself up on one elbow. “No, she won’t.”

“Yes, she will,” he countered, turning to face her with a smirk that sent a shiver down her spine. “I know because she told me.”

A giggle escaped her lips as she watched him roll his eyes dramatically, making the universal crazy sign with his hand. The way he did it—so effortless, so cocky—only made her want to pull him back into bed.

She reached out, tracing a slow, teasing finger down his bare back, her nails ghosting over his skin. “You’re scared of Maggie?” she teased, her voice sultry, laced with amusement.

Graham scoffed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her forward so she was flush against him. “I don’t fear many things,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “But an angry Maggie? That woman is a menace.”

Isla laughed, the sound soft and sweet, but Graham silenced it with a kiss—slow, deep, possessive. It stole her breath away, made her forget the world outside this bed, outside him. His fingers curled into her hair as he tilted her head back, his lips lingering at her jawline, trailing down the curve of her throat.

She sighed into him, her hands slipping over his shoulders, tracing the defined muscles as if trying to memorize them. She didn’t want him to go. Not yet.

But he pulled away, just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with something unreadable. Something dangerous. Something addictive.

“If I don’t leave now,” he murmured, his lips still brushing against her skin, “I won’t leave at all.”

Isla swallowed, her heart pounding, but she let him go.

Once he was gone, the room still smelled like him—like the musk of his cologne, the warmth of his skin, the memory of their bodies tangled together. She sighed, sinking deeper into the sheets, her fingers tracing the spot where he had just been.

And for the first time in a long time, she slept through the night like a baby, lost in the remnants of his touch, his scent, and the lingering heat of his presence.

The next two days were a whirlwind of excitement, a feverish blur of movement, laughter, and breathless anticipation. The estate buzzed with energy as the final wedding preparations took shape. Graham’s friends arrived the night before, filling the halls with raucous laughter and old stories that had Isla rolling her eyes—especially when it came to Daniel. Loud, smug, and completely insufferable, he had rubbed her the wrong way from the moment they met. But she barely had time to dwell on her irritation; Maggie and the rest of the staff were run ragged, ensuring everything was perfect. The house pulsed with life, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers, the warmth of candlelight, and the quiet hum of expectation.

But the nights—the nights—were a different kind of intoxicating.

The days belonged to the wedding preparations, but the nights belonged to them.

As the sun dipped beyond the horizon and the guests slowly drifted away to their rooms, Isla found herself wrapped in a different kind of anticipation. The moment the last door closed and the house fell into silence, she knew what was coming. And her pulse thrummed in response.

Graham wasted no time.

The instant they were alone, his hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him, his body hot and demanding against hers. “You’ve been avoiding me all day,” he murmured against her neck, his lips trailing fire along her skin.

“I’ve been busy,” she shot back, though her voice wavered when he nipped at her pulse point, a wicked smirk on his lips.

“Too busy for this?” His fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze—dark, intense, possessive.

Her breath hitched.

There was something primal in the way he looked at her, something that made her knees weaken and her stomach tighten. She barely had time to respond before his mouth crashed against hers, claiming, consuming. The world outside—the wedding, the guests, the perfect facade they’d upheld all day—melted away as his hands slid over her body, his touch igniting something deep, something dangerous.

The nights became a sanctuary, a secret world where words were replaced with whispers and sighs, where restraint was nothing more than a forgotten thought.

Graham was relentless—untamed. He stripped away the last of her reservations, leaving her breathless beneath him, tangled in silk sheets and heat. His lips traced the curve of her collarbone, down the dip of her spine, his hands exploring, owning, until she was arching into him, whispering his name like a prayer.

And when the night faded into morning, when reality came rushing back with the first light of dawn, Isla found herself staring at him—this man who had turned her world upside down. The man who, in mere hours, would be her husband.

She should have been terrified.

But all she felt was exhilaration.