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He cocks his head to the side and smiles sadly. “Because Apollo, the girl I’d been in love with since I was fourteen was with someone else and I didn’t know how to move on.” My heart stops beating, and for a moment, I just stare at him unable to believe what he just said. “I couldn’t be perpetually single without inviting questions and advances. So, I hired someone to make it look like I had a girlfriend. That’s it. Simple.”
The expression on his face changes. The softness is replaced with heat.
I’ve longed for this for so long. I take a hesitant step toward him, and he stands up.
Oh, God. I’m about to do something stupid. But, I can’t stop myself.
He walks toward me, his eyes intent on my face. When he’s standing in front of me, I put my palms on his chest and feel his sharp intake of breath at the touch, and I look up at his face. I recognize the look on his face. It’s exactly how I feel when he touches me. On fire, out of breath, but relieved at the same time.
With unabashed wonder, I say, “You mean it.”
“With every single fiber of my being.” His eyes burn into me, and I have no hope of resisting the pull between us. His face lowers so that his mouth is just an inch away from mine. His hands rest by his side and I want him to put them on me.
“I’ve been saving something for you,” he says softly. His breath is warm on my mouth, and I part my lips. My pulse is thudding in my ears, but I hear myself ask, “You have?” right before his lips touch mine. It’s just a touch, reverent and tender and it says …
He lifts his lips off mine and breathes. “Can I do that again?”
“Oh, God, please do it again,” I say in between gasps of air.
This time, his lips linger, and when I kiss him back, he groans and drags his lips away. He presses his forehead to mine, his breathing ragged.
“I ache, Apollo. I’m fuckin’ dying.”
His voice is making me ache.
Inside and out.
From the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. I wonder briefly if it’s possible that my legs are dissolving because, standing up suddenly feels impossible.
As if he can read my thoughts, he grasps my waist and holds me fast to him.
His hands. His touch. They are my body’s favorite. It’s been far too long since I’ve felt the addictive pulsing between my thighs that only Graham has ever inspired.
My nipples pucker so fast and tight that it stings.
“Graham, I need … I’m …” I can’t form a coherent sentence.
“Shhh, I know baby,” he whispers before his tongue sweeps my bottom lip. I press myself into him and whimper when I can’t get close enough. His powerful hands cup my ass, and he grinds himself into me.
I lift my leg and hook it around his waist in a desperate attempt to get closer.
“More,” I moan.
“Everything,” he whispers. Then he lifts me off my feet and walks us until my back hits the wall.
He pins me there, both of his hands on either side of my head.
He holds me up with the deliciously warm and heavy weight of his sexy as fuck body and captures my mouth again. It’s messy, greedy, uncoordinated. All of our kisses are like this. Desperate attempts to make up for all of the ones that we should have already shared.
Graham’s lips pull away from mine, and they travel down my chin. I throw my head back, and Graham nips my neck before he sucks it so hard that it stings. And then he works his way down my chest, sucking, biting.
He presses his hand to the space between my breasts and with one swift yank, rips my shirt right down the middle.
“Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about these sweet nipples,” he growls before his mouth closes over one of my aching peaks. The moan that tumbles from my mouth is guttural and comes from an untouched place inside of me. I look down and gasp as waves of pleasure catapult through. The sight of his head at my breast. His eyes closed while he suckles, licks, bites, and kneads my breasts.
His hair skims my collarbones; his fresh, clean scent surrounds me. His mouth is devouring. I feel like I’m being consumed by the collective force of all of our longing and need.
Surely, it can’t be a good thing to feel so much all at once. I haven’t felt this way since …
