Nearly two months of this arrangement have passed and everything seems just perfect. It’s like a dream I didn’t dare to dream before. Without the cost of rent, my job is more than enough to keep me afloat and contribute back to my savings. I don’t have a worry in the world, other than how so much of this new world of mine is reliant on Graham. Just like it used to be with my ex.
I swallow down that thought as often as it comes up and focus on the positives.
Meeting Graham’s friends has definitely either taken us to the next level or given me mixed signals. That combined with little trips on private jets for weekend vacations in the sun…life is very much too good to be true.
I’ve been added to a group chat with Julie, Bee, and Whitney, and they’re just as lovely, welcoming, and funny as they were at the dinner. They’re very interested in Graham and me, but I keep it light and vague. Although for the most part, I don’t have to hide anything. Like when they ask how long we’ve been together or how we met. Eight weeks and in an elevator in his building. Oh how they thought that was scandalous…if only they really knew.
Between time with Suzette after work, an after-hours meeting to schedule a charity function, and Graham leaving town twice for meetings, before I know it, the week has gone by and I haven’t seen him.
He’s busy and I’m busy, and even though the ache I feel when I think about being with him doesn’t go away, I get lost in my life for the first time in a long time. Lost in a good way, this time. Not the way I was lost with Kevin, when the days started to blur together and the only thing that broke it up was getting engaged. Which obviously ended worse than it began.
It feels like a century ago that I was worried about the rent and made that frantic call to Graham. It almost feels like a new life, even though I’m living in the same apartment.
I want it to stay like this, all new and exciting, for as long as possible.
I want things to stay okay. I think, this time, it might stick.
Since I haven’t heard from Kenzie, my needy cousin, in about a week and a half, my aunt tells me she’s doing much better. Some small part of me thinks that it might not be a good thing that my cousin hasn’t messaged, but I can’t bring myself to worry about it when I’m finally in a decent place.
Worrying never helps anyone, anyway. One of the best parts of all this is that my optimism doesn’t feel so hard, now that I have a job and Graham and a group chat with another group of women who I can really see myself being friends with.
Friday after work, I come home from the office at the end of the day and find a paper taped to the door of my apartment.
My heart jumps into my throat and my blood goes cold. In my experience, sheets of paper taped to your apartment door never mean anything good, but as soon as I swallow down my knee-jerk reaction, I realize it’s too small to be an official notice. The paper is too nice, too.
Actually, it’s a note from Graham on a page torn from the pad on his desk. It’s thick, heavy paper with his monogram on the top.
I want to see you. Come up when you get this. I’ve missed you.
That’s all it says.
I peel the paper off the door, dislodging the tape he used to keep it there, and run my fingertips over the words. This feels different. He could’ve just texted me, or called, and told me he wanted to see me. Leaving a note in his handwriting, though...
It means he wrote the note and came up here, thinking of me. It means he pressed the tape to the top of the paper and looked it over before he left. He stood here in the hall, wondering when I’d be home to see it.
It means he knew that anyone could walk by and see this.
No, he didn’t sign his name, but they’d see that someone with bold, clean handwriting wanted someone else enough to tape a note to their door.
That probably shouldn’t make me as giddy as it does. It probably doesn’t mean as much as I think it does. But still, I remind myself, I’m allowed to be a hopeless romantic, even in a not-so-romantic arrangement like this, so long as I protect my heart.
I rush inside, tuck the note on my bedside table, and change out of my work clothes. I think Graham likes my work clothes—his eyes go dark every time he sees me coming through the lobby or meets me for drinks after—but it’s Friday, and I’ve been in those outfits all week. I choose a flowy dress instead and a beautiful pair of emerald earrings Graham bought me while we were on vacation and take the elevator up to the penthouse. It’s my first time wearing them, they stay in a trinket tray on my bedside safe and sound so I don’t lose them. But today feels like a special day and for that, I choose the beautiful earrings that feel just as special.
The elevator lets me directly into the wide, spacious entryway, which looks over his kitchen and the big living room with the stunning view of the city. I’ve been here several times, and I know it shouldn’t be anything special considering I live in the building, but it is. Everything about this space is just what I would have imagined for a man like Graham. It’s clean and beautiful and classy, and the best part of it is him.
Or it would be if I could see him.
I pause, closing the door quietly behind me, and listen. He said he wanted to see me and to come up, so I know he’s in here.
After a second, I hear his voice floating in from one of the other rooms. I kick off my heels, leaving them at the entryway, and follow the low rumble past the spacious kitchen with Graham’s shiny, expensive espresso machine that I know how to use now; past the sitting room with the very comfortable sofa that costs more than furniture should and the TV that rises out of a hidden compartment so it doesn’t block the view; and past the original art framed on the wall that Graham got at an auction after he bought his first New York property.
These things mean more than they did the first time I was here. He’s told me enough to know that he doesn’t choose things without a reason, another fact about him that gives me butterflies.
He thinks about me even more carefully.
Graham doesn’t have to say that for me to know it. He’s always considerate when we go out, despite the dirty deal he offered me to pay the rent.
Could that have been fake, somehow? Not the deal itself—that definitely wasn’t fake given I’m the one who technically offered it. The more Graham and I spend time with each other, the less I think he’s the kind of guy who’d ever do it again. He’s said in passing it was reckless for us and I agree. And Graham isn’t a reckless kind of man.
I swallow down nervousness. I don’t know if these feelings will ever go away. I’m not concerned that he’ll end things between us when I don’t see it coming. I’m more nervous about impressing him and living up to his expectations. I want him to enjoy this in the same way I do.
I really want to impress him, because...
I don’t want this to end.
It doesn’t escape me that when this ends, he’ll be the one doing it. And I don’t think I’ll see it coming. I take a deep breath and promise myself not to think about any of this ending. Setting a timeline hasn’t been what this is about. That’s why we have a safe word, and why he seemed so relieved to see me in his office for the second rent payment. That memory goes a long way to soothe my nerves every time they creep up.
We can do this for as long as we want.
Graham is in a smaller, cozier den at one side of the penthouse. He sits on what I now know is his favorite working chair, an elbow propped on the arm, the phone to his ear. It’s a worn brown leather that fits the masculine natural tones of the room.
“Go into more detail about that,” he says. “I’m not sure I know enough to give you an answer you’ll be satisfied with.”
His tone is confident and commanding on the phone. The cadence of his voice sends a shiver down my spine. Nobody I’ve met before makes me feel like they could take charge of just about anything in the world and make it better than it was before.
Nobody would look as hot as Graham doing it, either. The natural light from the large, paned windows accentuates his perfect features and the way his clothes fit his body like they were made for him.
Which they were.
I pad quietly in through the door and he turns his head. His blue eyes brighten when he sees me, then immediately get darker as his pupils expand.
Then it’s just like the first time I saw him in the elevator. My heart goes a little crazy over how attractive he is. Something electric about the air around him makes my chest get hot, and it feels like I’ve gotten an intense crush on this man in the space of seconds. It’s been longer than that, obviously, but stepping into any room he’s in makes it all feel new again.
I give him a little wave and mouth I can go if you’re busy.
He shakes his head and readjusts in his seat, spreading his legs wider all the while staring at me. “That’s something I considered, but only in the context of—yes, that’s right.”
I can almost feel him undressing me. Imagine his hands pulling my dress over my head. Feel his fingertips drag when he does it. This man hasn’t even touched me and yet my body can already feel what he’ll do to me. That’s the power he has over me and I freaking love it.
I take two steps toward him, and Graham holds up a hand. I freeze in place, my face hot. He mouths the command, strip.
Every nerve ending in my body lights ablaze. I do as he commands, slowly, like I know he likes. Letting the dress fall to a puddle of cloth on the floor. He stops me before I can unsnap my bra and slip off my panties. They’re a matching nude lace duo. Apparently he wants me to keep them on.
He slowly holds up one finger, then points at the floor.
I put my hand over my mouth to cover my gasp.
Crawl, he mouths, still pointing at the floor. He looks down, like he needs to emphasize the point, then looks back up at me, his eyes moving slowly over my nearly naked body.
“Right,” he says, his voice shocking me into action. “My plan is to recoup the investment through a series of targeted improvements. I’m not talking about razing the place to the ground. That would be a waste.”
I sink slowly to my knees, feeling the pattern of the rug press against my skin, then lower my hands to the floor.
This is so hot, on the verge of degrading or maybe submission, that I have to stop and take a few deep breaths.
Graham snaps his fingers.
It’s one small sound and it draws my whole attention to him. His blue eyes are intense on mine as I begin to crawl across the rug.
He never looks away from me, even as he continues his conversation. It sounds to me like he’s talking about the deal he’s been working on—the one that’s been keeping him up at night, the one he can’t let go of even when it annoys the hell out of him—and it makes crawling across the floor even sexier. If he wants me to know about this conversation, he’ll tell me about it later.
What he wants more is to watch me crawl to him.
I take my time, making each movement as slow and languid as I can. I’m a foot away from him, maybe less, when Graham spreads his knees and unzips his pants.
My mouth waters and my breathing quickens as I settle between his feet.
Graham takes his cock out and runs his fist over it, biting his hip. “That’s fine,” he says, voice terse. “I’m switching over to my people now. Email me with anything else you need.”
He pauses, watching me, his hand still moving on his cock. He’s thick and long, and I’m far too eager to give him everything he wants.
“I’m off the call,” he says, and then he rattles off a list of details. I don’t really hear any of them. I’m too busy watching his hand. On the next downstroke, I lean in and lick his tip. The slit already has a bead of precum, and I lick it away before hollowing my cheeks and taking his head into my mouth. He’s smooth and already hard as iron. I cover my teeth with my lips and take more of him in.
Graham chokes back a groan. “Whatever you think. Just get it done.”
He hangs up and tosses his phone to the side. It bounces off the chair and falls to the carpet. Then his hands are in my hair and he guides me down his cock.
He’s so hard that he must’ve been thinking about this all day. If I’d known that note was on my door, I’d have thought about it all day, too. Graham’s hips thrust up as I take him deeper, my throat fluttering around him.
“Fuck,” he says, his voice strained. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
I continue, and his hands work through my hair and gather it away from my face so it doesn’t get in the way. I lick every inch of him that I can reach. I wrap one hand around his base and stroke. It’s wet and messy and I know damn well my lips will be swollen, my lipstick ruined. But to hear that groan and the way his breath hitches, I fucking love it.
My eyes sting and water as I take more of him down, eager to get him off.
Graham groans again and tells me to be a good girl and take it.
It doesn’t take much effort to stop my movements, not when he starts pumping into my mouth, holding my head gently while he does it.
After a minute he stops, pulling my head away. His abs bunch up below the waistband of his pants. His shirt is an untucked mess. Graham closes his eyes and breathes.
When he opens them again, all I can see his how much he wants me.
“Maddie,” he says, running the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone.
“Hi,” I breathe, not knowing what else to say and not caring.
He growls, and the next thing I know I’m being lifted off the floor and arranged on the chair on my knees, gripping the back of the chair. He rips the lace of my underwear at my entrance as he kisses my neck and tells me he’s wanted me all day. The fabric of Graham’s pants brushes against the backs of my thighs, and then he’s pushing into me, his fingers stroking my clit.
“You’re so fucking wet.” His first stroke is deep and hard and takes my breath away. “Did you think of me when you were at that office?” He questions between kisses down my neck and then shoulders.
“All day,” I tell him because it’s true. Every time I finished a task or started a new one or got a drink or ate my lunch or stapled some documents, I thought of him. He rakes his teeth over my shoulder, and I admit in a rushed breath, “I missed you.”
“You should have told me,” he scolds, and fucks into me harder. With a hand on my hip and the other gripping the back of my neck, he pounds into me.
I dig my fingers into the leather and nearly bite down on the back of it to stifle my moans. His fingers are taking me right to the edge. I can feel my orgasm gathering, centered over my clit and deep inside me. “Would you have come to the office and taken me?” I question, although I’m nearly breathless.
“I should have done it already,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.
“Yes,” I gasp, and the orgasm comes on fast and hot. I move my hips back against Graham until he holds me still, filling me while he curses.
“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?” He leans over me, covering me with his body. “Do you have any idea how bad I want you?”
I can’t answer because I’m holding on for dear life.
Graham pushes in so deep he bottoms out and lets out a low grunt, and then he’s finding his release as well.
He pulls out with a reluctant sigh, then gathers me onto his lap.
He tips his head back to rest on the chair. I kiss down the line of his neck to his collar and he makes a satisfied noise.
We stay like that for a long time, and then Graham offers me a shower and some clothes to borrow.
“Borrow?” I tease. “You want me to spend the night?”
“I don’t want you going downstairs,” he says, and guides me into the shower. “I didn’t have you all week, stay with me tonight.”
Graham
I've never thought much about lying around in the bath before. Baths don't make money, and lying around doesn't, either.
But you couldn’t pay me to get out of the bath with Maddie. It’s fucking heaven.
Her wet hair drips onto my chest, and she curls her whole body up onto mine, and fuck. I don’t care if I lose everything so long as I can hold on to this.
The air is filled with the scent of her shampoo and her body wash and the clean, warm smell of her skin, and part of me wants to save this memory somehow so I have it forever.
Maddie sighs, turning to kiss my collarbone.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask, running my fingers through her hair. It’s slippery from her conditioner and doesn’t snag at all.
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“I was just thinking about how content I am.” She lifts her hand from the water and the sound is soothing. I take her hand in mine, enjoying the warmth as she settles into me.
I murmur and kiss the side of her neck, loving how her body reacts. “Is that right?”
“Yes. And...” She makes another soft sound. She’s careful with her words. “I don’t know how to feel about it. I always thought it would take more of a fight. That’s what I was used to, before.”
“Before?”
“When I was younger.”
“You’re young now.”
Maddie presses her sweet body against mine, and that’s almost the end of the conversation. “I mean before I met you. I always felt like I was fighting for something. I felt like...if I wasn’t fighting and going after my goals, then it would definitely turn out wrong. And it did, with my ex. I stopped fighting, and everything went to shit.”
I stiffen at the mere mention of men who had her before me.
We’re both quiet for a minute.
“It’s different with you,” she admits. “I don’t feel like I have to fight for everything.”
I don’t want her to fight for a damn thing. Not when she’s mine. Tension builds in my shoulders and I bite back so much of what I want to say.
Instead, I lean down and kiss her, my heart aching. Because I want to be the person who gives her the world. I want to tell her that.
But something’s stopping me.
Something says I shouldn’t go that far, and shouldn’t offer her that, because maybe I’m not the man she needs. And one day this is going to end. It’s merely an arrangement. A negotiation that has an undefined timeline. She knows it. I know it. But neither of us says it out loud.