The End of a Marriage (Colette and Matheo) novel Chapter 244

Chapter 244

Graham could still vividly recall the torment of that morning. It was

supposed to be an ordinary breakfast–just the two of them seated across from each other in his expansive dining room, the morning sunlight filtering through the large windows, casting a soft glow over. the scene. The cook had quietly presented their meal before

retreating, leaving them in a bubble of silence.

But Isla, oblivious to the havoc she was wreaking, had picked up her spoon, dipped it into the yogurt, and brought it to her mouth with a languidness that bordered on sinful. Graham’s attention had been

immediate and involuntary, his gaze locking onto the way her lips

closed around the silver utensil. She sucked gently, absentmindedly

scrolling through her phone with her free hand, utterly unaware of

the effect she was having.

The sight of her tongue darting out to lick the spoon clean had been his undoing. His mind had betrayed him, conjuring images of that tongue exploring far more intimate places. Heat rushed to his core, pooling low in his abdomen, and for the first time in his life, Graham Lancaster–a man known for his iron control–felt completely undone. His body reacted with a ferocity that startled him, an aching hardness pressing uncomfortably against the confines of his tailored

pants.

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Chapter 244

He’d clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding in frustration. What the hell

is wrong with me? he’d thought. This wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t

some hormonal teenager, aroused by something as mundane as a

woman licking a spoon. He was a man of refinement, a man who had

always prided himself on his restraint. His affairs had been conducted

with elegance and maturity–discreet arrangements with

sophisticated women who knew the rules, who never demanded more.

than he was willing to give.

But Isla… Isla shattered all of that. She wasn’t refined or calculated.

She was raw, unpredictable, and maddeningly innocent in her ability

to arouse him without even trying. Graham had sat there, rigid and

uncomfortably aware of every tiny movement she made, his breath

shallow as he willed his body to calm down.

Yet, as the memory of that morning replayed in his mind, his current

predicament worsened. In the dimly lit confines of the town car, Isla

sat just inches away from him, her dress riding high on her smooth,

bare thighs. The stark white fabric contrasted against her sun–kissed

skin, the hem teasing at what lay just out of view. His pulse

quickened, his throat dry as his eyes darted to the window in a

desperate attempt to focus on anything but het.

But it was useless. Her scent lingered in the air–a mix of something floral and distinctly her. His fingers gripped the leather seat, knuckles

white with the effort it took to restrain himself. Every muscle in his

body was coiled tight, his mind spiraling into fantasies he couldn’t

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