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    Kennedy rushed the door and entered the code, breathing a sigh of relief when the handle turned. She toed on her shoes and turned to grab her purse when she looked back at Graham. His lip was bleeding, and already she could see a knot forming on his chin. He looked a weird color to her and seemed unconscious. Her head hurt a lot, so maybe she had broken his jaw. Leaving the door wide open and setting her purse down for a quick exit, Kennedy went into the adjoining bathroom and soaked a washcloth in cold water and grabbed a towel. This might be a really stupid move, but she wasn’t afraid anymore. She hesitantly made her way over to Graham and carefully placed the cold cloth on his face, jumping back when he twitched. His eyes opened a fraction, and he studied her for a moment and then drifted off again. Kennedy mopped up the blood and then went back for another cold cloth. She fashioned a compress as best she could and knelt to tug his boots off, managing to lift his other leg onto the bed. She then propped a pillow behind his shoulder to keep his head turned sideways and pulled the coverlet loose to drift the one half of it over him. He was breathing, she had provided first aid, and he was conquered. Nothing left to do here. Kennedy left the room and found her way to the front door without a challenge. She had to walk nearly a block before she could flag a cab and resolutely refused to think about the evening. Madison and Alberta would soon learn that their new entertainment was not for her, and she absolutely wouldn’t examine her body’s response to that incredible but perverted man. At least she hadn’t degenerated into a screaming idiot.

Chapter Two

    Graham scrunched his eyes against the pervasive overhead light.
    “Turn the fucking thing off,” he groaned.
    “What the fuck happened to you?” asked a familiar voice.
    “Kennedy Johnson,” he answered, without thinking.
    Patrick went absolutely motionless and silent, and then he dissolved into laughter. Loud, head-jarring, cruel laughter.
    “Fuck off,” Graham advised, struggling to a sitting position. He felt like he had gone ten rounds with a far bigger opponent than his little woman. Well, maybe not his. Yet. But then he had been trying not to hurt her, just restrain her and keep her from killing him. That had to count toward explaining why he was the one with the sore jaw and split lip. Not to mention the throbbing in his head and the probable bruises on his legs. At least his balls were intact.
    “C’mon for breakfast and tell me all about it,” Patrick offered. “I thought you’d taken her home until the cleaning staff said the room was still occupied. By you. Alone.”
    Graham staggered to the bathroom and used the facilities then threw cold water on his face and chest. He really didn’t want to see what he looked like but cautiously peered into the mirror. Not too bad. Kennedy had kept the swelling down by applying those cold cloths. What the hell was her skull made of anyhow? He didn’t think he had a glass jaw, but she nearly had him down for the count. And the sight of her with those deadly stilettos. Graham shuddered, and his cock filled. Kennedy had no idea what she had unleashed.
    Patrick extricated the whole sorry tale over a huge, cholesterol-filled breakfast after swearing not to breathe a word to another soul. He obviously smothered more laughter, probably because Graham was having trouble chewing the bacon.
    “I thought she was going to kill me,” Graham confided.
    Patrick raised his eyebrows. “And I take it you aren’t finished with her?”
    Graham smiled around his split lip. “Not hardly. No playing fair the next time.”
    Patrick looked hard at him. “You aren’t going to hurt her,” he stated flatly.
    Graham reared back as if he’d been struck. “Of course not! But I’m wise to her moves now, and she still has another fifteen coming. I think she liked her spanking, Pat, and next time I’ll find out for