***

GRAHAM WAS RIGHT ABOUT ONE THING; we were certainly attracting attention. Although I doubted any of the women eye fucking the man I was standing next to even noticed my hair. Graham seemed oblivious as he steered me toward the bar.

“You seem to have a fan club.”

“It’s more like a hate club. My business is very competitive.”

I eyed one woman who was blatantly staring at us as we walked. She was wearing a red dress, and her head was following our every step. “Looks more like lust than hate.”

Graham followed my line of sight. He pulled me closer to his side. “Keep away from that one.”

That comment only made me stare longer. “Why?”

“I don’t want her tainting your view on me any more than I accomplish on my own.”

At the bar, Graham ordered his fancy drink and the wine I had at dinner last week. He got a point for remembering what I liked. While we waited, I looked around the room. The Met was an incredible place. I’d been inside before for exhibitions but never in this particular hall. The domed ceilings were a work of art in itself. It was overwhelming to take it all in. The people. The venue. The man standing next to me, most of all.

Graham handed me my drink. “How much money will something like this raise?”

“I think last year it drummed up five million.”

I almost choked sipping my wine. The woman in the red dress who had been staring at us sauntered to the bar.

“Hello, Graham.”

He nodded. His response was curt, and I felt his body stiffen. “Avery.”

Oh, fuck. The woman I called.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

He drew me even closer to his side. “Actually, no. We were just about to dance. Excuse us.”

Graham abruptly steered me away from the bar and the woman. I was relieved to get away from her myself, but curious at the relationship. There was a large, mostly empty dance floor on one side of the room. On our way, we made a stop at table number four and Graham set down our drinks.

Out on the dance floor, Graham pulled me close. I wasn’t surprised to find he knew how to dance. The way he led with a strong hand, definitely suited his domineering personality.

“So…red dress. I take it you two have history?”

“We do. But it’s not what you think.”

“Meaning what? That you haven’t fucked her?”

He pulled his head back and his brow arched. “Jealous?”

I looked away. The thought of him being with anyone else stirred something irrational inside of me. Graham leaned in and ran his nose along my throat. “I like that you’re jealous. It means that you’re possessive of me. I feel the exact same way about you.”

My eyes met with his. Our gazes held for a long time before he spoke again. “No. I haven’t slept with Avery. Never laid a finger on her. She’s not happy with the way I’m currently handling a business acquisition.”

“Oh.”

He leaned in closer, gravelly speaking in my ear. “But speaking of fucking. I’ve had a hard on since you told me you were bare.” With his hand on my lower back, he pressed me firmly against him. I could feel his erection poking into my hip. The man was attacking all of my senses at once—the sound of his needy voice, the smell that was so male and distinctly him, the touch of his hands on my bare skin—God, I wanted to taste him. It didn’t help that the way his body controlled mine as we fluidly swept across the dance floor reminded me how dominating he would probably be in bed. There was an unlocked closet around somewhere nearby, I was sure of it. It would be so easy to give in to him right now. But instead, I forced my usual bitchy self through the haze of lust that threatened to swallow me.

“Maybe you should see a doctor about that. Seems like you constantly have an erection. Too much Viagra, perhaps?”

“I can assure you, there is no artificial assistance needed to make my cock swell when I’m around you, Soraya. And I have visited my doctor recently. In fact, just a few days ago. I took some advice from a columnist I follow and prepared myself on the off chance that I’m permitted to break my celibacy vow. I’m clean and have the papers to prove it.”

“You sound eager. Are you carrying them on your person right now?” I was joking, but Graham pulled back and patted his jacket pocket over where the inside pocket would be. I chuckled. “Are you serious? You don’t actually have them on you, do you?”

“Of course, I’m serious. There is nothing more that I want to do than come inside of you. Not a chance I was going to miss an opportunity because I wasn’t prepared if the occasion presented itself. I’ve been carrying them with me for three days.”