Chapter 167

Chapter 54

The air between them was electric, charged with a desperation that had been building all night, all day—perhaps even longer. Graham’s hands trembled as they traced the curve of her body, his touch urgent but reverent, as if he were both claiming her and worshipping her all at once. There was no finesse tonight, no slow, teasing buildup. The need between them was too overwhelming, too primal to be restrained. It was as if the world had narrowed to this moment, to the two of them, and nothing else mattered.

His eyes burned with a hunger that made her breath catch in her throat. “I can’t wait,” he murmured, his voice rough and strained, each word heavy with desire. “I’ve waited too long already.” His fingers found the warmth between her legs, and she gasped, her body arching into his touch as if drawn by some invisible force. He moved with a fierce determination, his touch igniting a fire that spread through her veins, consuming her from the inside out.

“Graham,” she whispered, her voice breaking as pleasure coiled tight within her. His name became a mantra on her lips, a plea and a promise all at once. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he brought her to the edge and held her there, suspended in a moment of pure, unrelenting need. Every stroke of his fingers, every whispered word, every ragged breath they shared felt like a revelation, as if they were discovering something new about each other, about themselves.

When he finally pulled away, she felt the loss of his touch like a physical ache, a void that only he could fill. But he was already moving, his hands fumbling with the buttons of his suit jacket. The fabric fell away, revealing the hard lines of his body, the tension in his muscles as he stripped away the last barriers between them. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath, his skin glistening in the dim light. He was a vision of raw, untamed desire, and she couldn’t look away.

He reached for the bedside drawer, his movements quick but deliberate. The condom was in his hand, and for a moment, he paused, his eyes locking with hers. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear, but she held it, refusing to look away. This was their moment, their connection, and she wanted to be present for every second of it.

With practiced ease, he rolled the condom onto his hardness, his jaw tightening as he let out a low, guttural groan.

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of their shared desire. Isla’s heart raced, her body still humming from the way Graham had touched her, the way he had brought her to the edge of pleasure with such fierce determination. But as her eyes fell on him, on the sheer size of his hardness, a sudden wave of fear crashed over her, drowning out everything else.

All her earlier indignation, the sensual haze he had wrapped her in—it all dissolved into the background, replaced by a sharp, paralyzing panic. Her throat went dry, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she stared at him, her mind racing. It wasn’t going to fit. It couldn’t. She was convinced of it.

“Graham, no,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I-I think you’re too big for me.” The words tumbled out in a rush, her fear spilling over. She wasn’t just nervous; she was terrified. The thought of him trying to fit inside her, of the pain it might cause, sent a cold shiver down her spine. She pulled back slightly, her body instinctively recoiling even as her heart ached to stay close to him.

Graham paused, his eyes softening as he took in her expression. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with each frantic breath. For a moment, he said nothing, simply watching her, his gaze steady and reassuring. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips—not mocking, but tender, understanding.

“Trust me, darling,” he said, his voice low and soothing, like a balm to her frayed nerves. “You’re going to be a perfect fit.” He reached for her, his hand brushing against her cheek, his touch gentle but firm. “I would never hurt you. Not ever.”

Isla’s breath hitched, her eyes searching his for any hint of doubt, any sign that he might be wrong. But all she found was certainty, a quiet confidence that made her heart flutter in a way that had nothing to do with fear. Still, the doubt lingered, a stubborn voice in the back of her mind whispering that this was impossible, that she wasn’t ready, that it would be too much.

Graham seemed to sense her hesitation. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Let me show you. Let me take care of you.” His words were a promise, a vow, and something in the way he said them made her want to believe him, to trust him completely.

She closed her eyes, her body trembling as she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Okay.”

He kissed her then, his lips soft and reassuring, his touch slow and deliberate as he guided her back onto the bed. Every movement was careful, measured, as if he were handling something precious, something irreplaceable.

The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breaths, the air thick with anticipation and desire. Graham’s hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself between her legs, his eyes locked on hers, searching for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, only a flicker of nervousness mixed with trust, he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Relax, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you.”

Isla’s breath hitched as she felt him rub the length of his hardness against her slick folds, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through her body. He moved slowly at first, teasing her, letting her grow accustomed to the feel of him. But then his movements became faster, more deliberate, the friction igniting a fire that made her gasp and arch into him.

“Graham, ah—” she moaned, her voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and apprehension. She knew what was coming next, and the thought both excited and terrified her. Any moment now, he would try to enter her, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready.

As if sensing her thoughts, Graham paused, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. “Trust me,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. “I’ll go slow. I promise.”

And then, with a gentleness that belied the urgency in his eyes, he pressed the tip of his hardness against her entrance. Isla’s breath caught in her throat as she felt him begin to slide inside, the sensation unfamiliar and overwhelming. There was a sharp sting of pain, and she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Hush, darling,” Graham murmured, his voice a soothing balm against her fear. “Just a moment. The pain will fade, I promise.” He stilled, giving her time to adjust, his own body trembling with the effort of holding back. But the pain didn’t fade—if anything, it intensified as he slid in a little more, her tightness gripping him in a way that made his head spin.

For Graham, the sensation was almost too much to bear. Her slick heat enveloped him, her walls contracting around him in a way that made him feel like he might lose control at any moment. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay still, to give her the time she needed. He could feel the barrier now, the proof of her innocence, and the knowledge sent a surge of protectiveness through him.

“Isla,” he breathed, his voice rough with restraint. “You’re so tight, so perfect. Just breathe, darling. Breathe for me.”

Graham could feel Isla’s body trembling beneath him, her breath coming in shallow gasps as he tried to ease himself inside her. He had been careful, so careful, but the moment he felt her tense, her sharp intake of breath, he knew something was wrong.

“Isla?” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with concern. He stilled, his body hovering over hers, his eyes searching her face for any sign of discomfort. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips pressed into a thin line as if she were trying to endure the pain in silence. But he could see it—the way her hands clenched the sheets, the way her body stiffened beneath his.

“It’s… it’s too much,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It hurts, Graham. It really hurts.”

His heart clenched at the sound of her voice, at the way she tried to hide her pain from him. He pulled back immediately, his hands moving to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to spill from her eyes. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

But as he looked down at her, his concern deepened. Her face was pale, her breathing uneven, and when he glanced down, his stomach dropped. There was blood—too much blood—and the sight of it sent a wave of panic through him.

“Isla,” he said, his voice firmer now, though still gentle. “Look at me. Please.”

Her eyes fluttered open, filled with pain and something else—fear, maybe, or embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. “This isn’t your fault. You’re hurt, and we need to take care of you.” He moved quickly but carefully, grabbing a towel from the bedside table and pressing it gently against her.