I lean back in my chair, rubbing a hand through my hair. I’ve led billion-dollar negotiations without blinking. I’ve walked into boardrooms with sharks waiting to rip me apart. I’ve rebuilt properties that should’ve been condemned decades ago.
Nothing surprised me anymore. Nothing challenged me on apersonallevel. Until Willow Grant.
Until the way she said “this place is family.” Until the way her voice broke telling me about the lodge tree. Until the way she looked out that window like she was seeing her entire childhood at once.
I came here to rebuild a lodge. Now I’m sitting in a hotel room like some idiot half my age trying to figure out how to prove myself to a woman who doesn’t trust me.
A knock sounds at the door. It’s housekeeping, asking if I need anything. I decline, wait until their footsteps fade, then return to the table.
I pick up the original blueprint packet and pause. I shove it aside and pull the new notes forward.
For the next hour, I rewrite the project. Not to impress investors or show off architectural vision. But because Willow Grant looked at Hearthstone Lodge today and made me see it through her eyes. And I can’t unsee it.
When I’m finished, I sit back with a calmer mind. This isn’t just a strategic shift. This is a pivot. Yes, it’s also a risk. Truly, it’s a surrender of control I’ve never allowed before.
I exhale, long and slow. I didn’t expect Hope Peak to change me. But today it did. And her most of all.
I close my notebook, but the thought lingers like heat under my skin. Willow Grant doesn’t trust me. But for the first time, I want to earn something that isn’t money, power, or a win.
I want to earnher.
Chapter 8
Willow
Ican’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Hearthstone Lodge with its dilapidated condition. It’s shocking, but real. I see the faded mural and the view from the suite window. And worse … I see him.
The way Graham stood in the great room like he was already imagining its revival. I noticed the way he listened to me, really listened, even when he was pretending not to. I definitely noticed the way he looked at me in that suite … like he was discovering something important.
He’s an infuriating man, but I can’t deny the attraction. How will I finally get some sleep? There’s only one solution tonight. I live this out with him … right here, right now. But in my fantasies.
I slip my hand under the covers, my fingers trailing lightly over my stomach, the soft fabric of my nightshirt bunching upas I go. The room is dark, the only light a faint glow from the streetlamp outside, casting shadows that dance like whispers across the walls. My breath quickens, heart pounding in my ears, as I let the fantasy take hold. Graham's face materializes in my mind – those sharp eyes, the stubble shadowing his jaw, the way his lips curve when he's hiding a smile.
In my imagination, we're back in that suite at Hearthstone Lodge. The air smells of aged wood and faint dust, the faded mural on the wall watching us like a silent spectator. He's standing by the window, his broad shoulders outlined against the starry night, turning to me with that intense gaze that pins me in place. "You can't stop thinking about this, can you?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough, stepping closer until the heat of his body radiates against mine.
My fingers dip lower, brushing the edge of my panties, the fabric already damp from the ache building inside me. I gasp softly, arching my back as I slide my hand beneath the waistband, finding the slick warmth between my thighs.
In the fantasy, I tell him the truth, “I can’t stop, you’re right. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Graham's hands are on me now. His strong, calloused fingers grip my hips, pulling me against him. I feel the hard press of his erection through his clothing, grinding into me as he backs me toward the wall. His mouth crashes onto mine, tongue invading with a hunger that steals my breath, tasting of coffee and something darker, more primal.
I circle my clit slowly at first, the pressure sending sparks through my core, my free hand fisting the sheets. "Tell me what you want," he growls in my head, his lips trailing down my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. I whimper, my hips bucking involuntarily as I imagine him pinning me to the wall.
He yanks my shirt and bra up, exposing my breasts to the cool air, his mouth latching onto one nipple, sucking hardenough to make me cry out. The sensation mirrors in reality as my fingers pinch and tease, wetness coating my hand as I slide two fingers inside myself, curling them to hit that spot that makes my toes curl.
Deeper into the fantasy, he scoops me up, muscles flexing under my weight as he carries me to the king-size bed, its linens impossibly smooth and inviting against the lodge's worn charm. His hands move with frantic need, ripping my shirt over my head, fingers snagging in the fabric. Graham unhooks my bra with a snap that echoes in the room. Peeling my panties down, the elastic drags over my hips until they puddle at my feet. I moan, goosebumps prickling as the air caresses my bare skin.
His clothes follow in a blur – shirt tugged off to reveal the hard planes of his chest, pants shoved down, briefs finally stripped away. His cock stands rigid, veins pulsing under the skin, the head glistening in the dim light. I gasp, my mouth watering at the sight, core throbbing with the promise of being stretched wide. But he drops to his knees instead, smirking as he hooks my legs over his shoulders, my ass teetering on the bed's edge.
Graham's between my legs now, his breath hot against my inner thighs as he spreads me open. "You're so wet for me," he says, his voice vibrating through me, and then his tongue starts. Oh god, his tongue licks a slow, deliberate path up my slit, flicking over my clit with merciless precision. I thrust my fingers faster, matching the rhythm, my body trembling as the pleasure coils tighter. Sweat beads on my skin, the sheets sticking to me, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan, imagining his hands pinning my thighs down, holding me still as he devours me, sucking and lapping until I'm writhing, begging.
The edge approaches, sharp and insistent. In my mind, he rises up, his chest broad and muscled, cock thick and hard, veined and throbbing as he positions himself at my entrance.He thrusts in with one powerful stroke, filling me completely, stretching me until I gasp. I pump my fingers harder, adding a third, the slick sounds filling the quiet room, my thumb rubbing frantic circles over my clit. "Come for me," he commands, pounding into me in the fantasy, his body slick against mine, the bedframe rattling with each drive.
It hits me then … a wave crashing over, my muscles clenching around my fingers as I shatter, back arching off the bed. I hear a choked cry escape my throat. Stars burst behind my eyelids, pleasure pulsing through every nerve, leaving me gasping, trembling, and spent.
As the aftershocks fade, I withdraw my hand, slick and warm, and pull the covers up. Graham's image blurs, fading like smoke in the wind. My body heavy, eyelids drooping, I finally drift toward sleep, the lodge and him slipping away into the night.
♥♥♥
