Page 4 of The Defiant Curse

Of.

It.

Getting up, Michael couldn’t help himself, so he headed his way. When he pulled Graham into his arms, he found his mouth and kissed him like the world was burning, and they were having their final moments together.

Immediately, Graham melted into him.

Yeah, it was that damn spectacular.

They might call him Saint Michael of the Blackhawks, but he was a sinner when it came to certain things.

GRAHAM.

As he kissed him, that heat overwhelmed both men.

And Michael knew one thing.

They would be continuing this after they ate.

Trust and believe that as soon as the food was consumed, they would be going BACK to bed.

Hastily.

It wasn’t like they had anything planned today, once all of the chores were done. It was chilly out, and Graham knew how to get warmed up fast.

This was a good start too.

Already, his erection was showing up, and ready for anything his wickedly wild husband could share with him.

When Graham cupped him through his jeans, Michael moaned.

As the kiss was broken, Graham stared up into his husband’s blue eyes and saw the intent.

Someone else was ALSO thinking the same thing. Today was going to be all about staying in bed.

NAKED.

Well, sign him up.

There was no better way to spend the day in Graham’s humble opinion. Beneath his randy Marine was definitely where he desperately needed to be.

With his hand on his dick, now, Michael wasn’t interested in eating breakfast.

But he’d be a gentleman.

Never let it be said he wasn’t.

“You have two choices,” Michael offered, his lips very close to his man’s ear. “We eat and go to bed, or we go to bed and eat. It seems that I need more of you on your knees this morning, Mr. Graves. I’ll allow you the opportunity to decide which order the fucking will happen.”

When he bit him on the neck, Graham got goosebumps all over his body. That deep, whiskey-warm tone of his voice, tinged with pure, masculine desperation, made his whole being tingle with anticipation of what was to come.

HIM.

“D’Artangnan,” he whispered, as the man drove him absolutely wild.

Oh, when his real name came out, Michael knew what he was thinking about. Mostly, anymore, Graham called him by his Archangel name—the name he took when he left him seven years ago—but when he wanted to be bedded down, and given one hell of a ride, he went old-school.

“So, choose,” Michael stated. “Do I fuck you now, Graham, or later. How badly do you want it?”