When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(35)

“Oh, honey.” She pats me on the back.

I drag her into his bedroom. “He’s playing me, isn’t he?” I point at the bathroom door.

“Like a well-oiled fiddle.” She nods, holding back a laugh.

“He thinks I’ll crack, like I won’t be able to resist him.”

Amanda’s eyes widen with doubt. “Well, I mean, can you?”

“So, what do I do?”

“Why don’t you do the rational thing and stop playing games? You two are an inevitable thing in this world, so why torture yourselves?” She shrugs, not understanding our need for this painful banter.

“Because it’s fun,” I deadpan.

“You’re telling me you’re having fun?” Her hands pinch into her hips. “Now, don’t get your panties in a twist when I say this, but if it were me, I’d be ripping my clothes off and jumping in the hot shower with him.” She leaves me biting the inside of my cheek, debating her words of wisdom.

Amanda has a valid point. How did we even get here? Only yesterday, Graham and I were professing our love, and now, we’re playing head games with each other. Before my mind can catch up and dig my heels into the carpet, I jerk my shirt over my head and walk to the bathroom. The small space is filled with steam. My skin dampens, and I take a deep breath. The rest of my clothes form a pile on the bathroom floor.

Without overthinking, without second guessing, I pull open the blue, striped shower curtain.

Nothing. The shower’s empty. Am I losing my mind? I’m frozen, positive I saw Graham come in here.

A chuckle from behind me makes me turn fast, but angry. Even though a towel’s wrapped around his waist, he’s completely dry.

“What the fuck?” I shout. His eyes shift down my body, snapping me back to reality. I’m naked, completely naked, but I don’t bother to cover myself.

“Whatcha doing, Ken?” He smirks, knowing he won.

I recover quickly. “Get the idea out of your head. I was only coming in here to tempt you.”

“Seems I’ve tempted you.” He drops his towel and steps past me into the shower.

Quick to snatch the soft bath sheet from the floor to shield me from his eyes, I lean against the vanity. “Did you hide in the closet or something?” I groan, irritated with his Houdini act.

His head pops out, showing off his wet hair and amused eyes. “That door,” he points to the corner, “leads to Mark’s room. I hid in there.”

“How did you know I was going to come in here?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Kennedy, I want you as bad as you want me, if not more.”

“So, why are we doing this?”

“Do you remember the time when you came out of the bathroom, and I was studying on your bed?”

“Yeah, you kept distracting me. I read the same damn page like a hundred times. What does that have to do with this?”

“I ran my fingers over your palm, and you pretended you didn’t notice. My eyes never left you, even when you forced yourself not to look at me to prove some point, or maybe to put me in my place.” He shrugs and then smiles at the memory. “Your breath quickened and your eyes went wild from a simple touch from me.”

“Okay …” I still don’t understand.

Graham crooks a finger at me. I walk over to him as if pulled by a magnet. “You, flustered, overwhelmed by my touch, is the most alive I ever felt.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re riling me up?”

“No, I’m simply reminding both of us how we’ve always made each other feel.”

“And how’s that?” I brush his wet hair from his forehead.

“Impossible. Uninhibited. Reckless. Gentle. Everything.” Graham lets the curtain fall.

My chest aches, and I press to ease the pleasant pain his words cause. Everything he says, I know is true, so when the towel pools around my feet, I don’t stop myself from stepping into the shower. Graham turns, the water cascading over his skin.

“What are you doing?” His eyes fall to my chest, then spring up to my face.

Our breaths fall into a weird synchronized dance. When my lungs heave, his pulls. I shake my head, not thinking straight, but not caring. “Do you think …?”

He brushes my hair, speckled with the shower mist, out of my face. “Do I think, what?” He closes the small space between us until my back hits the shower wall. “Do I think what, Kennedy?”

My hand falls to his bare chest. It stills, but quickly runs along his collarbone, down his arms. When I reach the end of his fingertips, I move to his waist, scanning a light line along his ‘V’ muscle that still seems like a mystery to me. I stop at his abs and shift to his ribs, spying a little bit of ink tucked under his arm, perfectly hidden in plain sight.

He strains his arms to block my view, but I push him out of the way. When I bend to investigate, Graham’s feet shift. He doesn’t want me to see it, but why?

I stand to my full height and look him directly in the eyes. “What is it?”

“What is what?” He plays dumb.

“The tattoo. What is it?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Show me, then.”

“Kennedy …” he pleads, but relents and lifts his arm.