The Claiming of Sadie Graves by Angela Price

fresh pepper over each bowl and smiles at both of us. “Miss Graves, I’m so pleased to cook for you. Mr. Sutton rarely brings guests here. I hope you enjoy! Mr. Sutton, help yourself to seconds. I’ll be back when I’m sure you’ve left the room.”
    Marisol closes a pocket door behind herself, and Lucas relaxes in his chair, sipping the wine. His dog is lounging nearby, probably hoping for someone’s leftovers. It’s peaceful in the kitchen, for a moment. I look at the clock – it’s after 1:30PM. No wonder I’m hungry. I look at him tentatively.
    “Thank you for lunch. I didn't realize how hungry I was.”
    He nods. “Me, too. I didn't get much sleep after Violet made a scene last night, and then I was off, after you. Let’s eat. Do you think you could take a nap afterward? I think we’d both feel better.”
    I close my eyes. I’m tired. I nod. Yes, I could sleep. 
    He looks relieved and smiles softly, his brown eyes kind. “Good.”
    We both eat a bowlful of dumplings (hand rolled – wow), with big chunks of chicken and a deep, deliciously fatty broth. The cornbread is to die for. The pepper is perfect, giving an edge to a simple, peasant meal. When I push away from the breakfast bar, my eyes are heavy. The wine has made me sleepy, on top of my hurt and upset from last night. Somehow, all that seems far away.
    Lucas reaches for my hand. “Are you finished?” He stands. “I am; it was delicious. Thank you.”
    He envelops my hand with his and says, “Let’s go lie down.”
    We take a short staircase to Lucas’ room on the third floor. There are original artworks everywhere, and a king-sized bed layered in cream linens and blankets. Ornate Persian rugs line the chocolate hardwood floors. There are bookshelves along two walls, and modern furniture is mixed with antiques. It’s lovely. Just what I would have expected from him. I wonder what his New York apartment looks like, in comparison.
    He pulls me to the bed, and pushes me to sit on the edge. He deftly removes all the clothes he’s taken off me once already. I look down at myself, naked in no time under his fingers. I sigh, too tired to care anymore.
    Lucas removes all of his clothes too, and gets under the covers. He reaches for me, and pulls me across the expanse of the mattress. I’m faced away from him, on my side. He snuggles behind me, one arm over my waist and hip. He’s warm. He kisses my shoulder, hugs me to him hard, relaxes, and pulls in tight.
    I feel the little dog jump onto the bed, and she lies down comfortably at its foot. She lets out a sweet little sigh of satisfaction. I smile when she does.
    Within seconds, I’m asleep.

Chapter Thirteen
    “Push”
    MatchBox Twenty, Yourself or Someone Like You

I wake up to a space shrouded in early winter darkness. I’m disoriented, not sure where I am. Oh. I’m in Lucas’ room. He’s still asleep. God, he’s hot. His body is against mine, inch for inch, and his temperature is about ten degrees hotter than mine. Both of us have a slight sheen of sweat coating our skin where we’re touching. I turn to look at him, knowing I can do so without being observed.
    In the glow of a bookcase light, I admire him. His face is relaxed in sleep; his hair tousled; his face otherworldly. I scrutinize his warm brown skin, eyelashes long and dusky against his cheeks. His nose is so straight. His lips are full, perfect. Everything about his face, neck and shoulders is beautiful. He’s like a living sculpture.
    He stirs, and his eyes open for an instant. He groans, flexing his hips forward. His eyes roll back in his head. Oh. My sex god has arisen. Hands snake forward to grab my hips and pull me backward; into his erection. I swallow, hard – my mouth goes dry.
    “ Mmmm. Sadie. I dreamed about you.” He doesn’t open his eyes.
    I roll over to face him. What the hell. Why can’t I enjoy myself too? “I’ll be right back.”
    I get out of bed, figure out where the bathroom is, use the restroom