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He swallows, and his eyes close in on my mouth.
“Now?”
“Mm-hmm …” I nod.
“I wanted to wait. I’m twenty-one …”
“Yeah, only two months ago.” I swat his excuse away.
“You’re not eighteen. In California—”
“We’re not in California. And even if we were, I only want a kiss.”
He closes his eyes and purses his lips.
For a horrible second, I think he’s going to say no.
Then, he opens his eyes and I can I see that I was wrong. There’s a storm in them. One that looks like it’s been building, and I want it to sweep me away.
His hands on my waist tighten, and he pulls me into him.
“If I kiss you now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop,” he says gruffly.
Our bodies are pressed together. Every inch of him feels like it was made just to hold my weight.
“That’s all right. I won’t mind,” I assure him.
His laugh sounds like a tortured moan, and his gaze roams my face searchingly.
“Why can’t I say no to you?”
I sift my fingers into his hair, and the hum of pleasure that sounds from deep in his throat makes me quiver.
“’Cause, I’m your sun.” I press a kiss to the underside of his chin. “And you’re my star.” I lay another one on his cheek, and I feel the rush of his breath as he exhales and draws me even nearer. “But most importantly, because you … don’t … want to.”
He rests his forehead on mine and moves our heads from side to side. His chest heaves with the effort he’s making to hold back.
“God, Apollo,” he mutters as if it hurts to say my name.
His lips are so close, I can almost taste them and my pulse thrums with the need to feel them.
“Oomph,” I gasp as I’m pushed from behind. A pair of skateboarders whiz past us with a “sorry!” and wave.
“What assholes,” Graham says, and I look back at him. The moment’s gone, and my stomach sinks when I think I see relief in his eyes.
“Are you … did you not want to kiss me?” I blurt out.
He jerks back a little, his eyes wide with surprise. “You know better than that, Sunshine,” he says softly.
“Then why haven’t you?” I ask him, frustration shoving my pride aside.
“Because I want to do things right. Apollo, you’re seventeen,” he says with an exasperated voice that irks me.
“You act like I’m a child,” I shout at him.
“No, I don’t,” he pushes back.
“You do, I don’t know any seventeen-year-olds who are virgins. I’m the only one,” I complain. It doesn’t really bother me. Except when I’m with Graham. I wish I could give it to him.
