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She pressed the button. “Yes?”
“Tess?”
“Graham?” A rush of pleasure, of anticipation.
“Hey, let me in.”
“Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin,” she muttered, before pressing the buzzer.
Ask and you shall receive.
Rifling through her purse, she found some breath mints. She hadn’t eaten much of her mother’s garlicky pasta, but she’d had a bite. After tossing a mint in her mouth, she tucked her hair behind her ears, giving her cheeks a pinch. She wished she’d had time for a shower, time to wash her face after bawling like a baby at the dinner table.
He knocked on the door.
Too late.
“Come in,” she called, turning on the faucet as if she’d been about to start the…
No dishes in the sink.
Turning off the water, she grabbed a dishtowel and dried her hands, spinning toward the door as it opened.
“Hey,” she said inanely, her eyes working over every inch of his body. “What are you doing here?”
He closed the door. “Breaching your walls.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Graham advanced, his gaze determined, his mouth set. “I’m about to breach your walls the only way I know how.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a lady in distress, and there isn’t an actual castle.”
He stopped in front of her, not touching her, but close enough for her to wish she’d popped a second mint. “You’re a lady in distress if there ever was one.”
Point taken.
“Maybe a little distressed, but I’m working through it,” she said, studying his beautiful lips. How could a man have pretty lips? But Graham did. Graham had pretty everything. He was a walking dirty sex dream.
“Are you?” he asked, his eyes equally thoughtful and sinful.
“Giving it the ol’ college try,” she said, sucking in some air so she didn’t pitch forward and cover his body with her own. That might happen later. God, she hoped it happened later, but right now there were questions. “Seriously, what are you doing in the enemy camp?”
“Can we shelve that? I’m tired of talking about why. I’m tired of it being you against me.”
“Tired of being enemies?”
“You know we aren’t enemies,” he said, hands now propped on his hips, legs akimbo. “We’re far from that designation.”
“Okay, we’re not enemies, but we’re not playing for the same team.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Tess felt aggravation engulf the desire that had already overtaken her. “Are you here to fight?”
“Hell, no. I’m here for the opposite,” he said, grabbing her by the hips, drawing her to him. She let him because she couldn’t think of a good reason not to. Okay, she could, but she wanted Graham more than she wanted her principles at that moment. She’d think about those tomorrow. Along with all the other thoughts that had tumbled about in her head that afternoon. She didn’t want to talk about why, either… or anything else, for that matter.
She crooked her head and smiled. “The opposite of fighting is—”
