A Deep and Dark December(60)

Erin finished reading the last paragraph of the chapter in the book she’d found in her aunt’s purse, and set it aside. She’d attempted to reach out to her aunt mentally all morning, trying to soothe her, but she couldn’t seem to get past the barrier caused by the medication or whoever was manipulating Cerie’s ability. Reading the book aloud had been a futile act of desperation. She may as well have been reading to the wall. Erin rose and stretched. She sniffed back the tears that had been threatening to spill over every time she looked at her aunt’s still, pale form. She needed a walk, a change of scenery, something.

She came out of her aunt’s hospital room to find Graham leaning against the wall. Her pleasure at seeing him was quickly replaced by alarm at the look on his face. He pushed off the wall and without a word, wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck.

“Graham, what’s wrong? What’s happened? Is it my dad?”

He pulled out of the embrace and smoothed her hair away from her face. “No. God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“But something’s happened.”

“How’s your aunt?”

“They’ve put her in a medically induced coma. She’s… What’s wrong?”

“Not here.”

He took her hand and led her down the hall. She thought he’d take her to a quiet hallway or waiting room, but they turned a corner, then another to a room marked Private. He towed her into the room, closing and locking the door behind them. Backing her up against the door, he pressed his body to hers and kissed her. He smelled like the outdoors, breathing in his scent, her body responded. His desire fueled hers. She kissed him back with equal fervor as though there wasn’t enough time, enough skin on skin, enough of anything to ease the restless wanting.

She didn’t understand what was happening or why. Even if she wanted to, there was no time. He already had her bra undone, his mouth moving down her neck. She tilted her head back as he slid a leg between hers, pressing hard against her.

“I need you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and pleading, his hand bunching up her skirt.

She plunged her hands into his hair and brought his mouth back to hers. She was on fire, burning with a need that seemed to rise with his. Her thoughts fled, scattering to the wind at the feel of his hand there, just there. She welcomed the oblivion, falling further under his spell. She squeezed her eyes closed, heightening the sensations that barreled into her. There was only him, the feel of him and a need so consuming she forgot where she was. He was everywhere and yet not where she needed him most.

He pulled her panties aside, pushed one finger in, glided out, and replaced it with two. She slid down the door, her legs widening. He caught her around the waist, covering her mouth with his to silence her cries. He stroked her until she clutched at him, desperate for the feel of him inside her, filling her. And then he was there, pushing into her, gliding deep. He held onto her, driving into her, his tongue mimicking his thrusts.

She came hard, her scream muffled by his mouth. He pushed her down onto him as he hit deep. Burying his face in her neck, he shuddered, groaning as his orgasm slammed into him. Pinned to the door by his body, she went slack, her body quaking in the aftermath. She struggled to even her breathing, loose limbed and completely spent. He kissed the side of her neck, her jaw, then her mouth. Gentle open-mouthed kisses. Cradling her face in his hands, he set his forehead to hers.

“I’m sorry.” His words whispered across her lips.

It took her a moment to make out what he was trying to say. “You’re sorry?”

He pulled out of her and lowered her to the floor. Brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek, he looked like he regretted what they’d just done. “This wasn’t… I didn’t come here for this. I’m sorry.”

She adjusted her underwear and smoothed down her skirt. He watched her movements as he, too, righted his clothing.

“What did you come here for?” she asked, afraid of the look in his eyes. She didn’t know if she could take any more bad news.

“Let’s sit down.” He put his arm around her shoulder and led her to a small leather couch. He sat close, his arm still around her and reached for her other hand. “I have to tell you something.”

“Just say it.”

“Keith’s dead.”

She jerked as if he’d hit her. Keith…dead. “What? How…”

“Suicide.”

She tried to bolt, but he held onto her. “No.” She shook her head, unable to wrap her mind around what Graham was saying now. Something about hanging. “He wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t. Not Keith. No.” She pushed at his hands, fought to get free. He released her and she bounded off the couch. “I don’t believe you.” She turned back to him and could see it written across his face as though he was seeing a scene she couldn’t. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!”

He stood up. “Keep your voice down.”

“You didn’t care about that when you were shoving my skirt up.”

“Erin—”

“How could he be dead?”

He reached for her hand, squeezed it.

“He’s too perfect to be dead.” She looked up into Graham’s face, could see there was more. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”