When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(50)

Graham. Shirtless. He’s fucking shirtless. Bare chest, fully exposed, begging to be touched.

My mind floats to the last time we were together, and I immediately blush. My eyes shoot up to find a sweet smile on his face. I love the way the corner of his eyes scrunches together when his lips pull tight.

He reaches out and tugs me into the room. Before I have a second to take in my surroundings, my back hits the door, and Graham’s lips are all over my neck. His warm breath moves toward my jawline. All I can do is wrap my arms around his shoulders, dig my nails in, and enjoy the ride. Graham’s perfectly formed lips graze mine. A quiver runs through me, and I push forward to kiss him back.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers between our kiss. His hands skim down my body to rest at the bottom of my t-shirt. His thumb brushes the thin skin below my belly button, and I shudder from the feathery contact.

Our kiss deepens. Before I can take a breath, Graham draws me away from the hard surface and walks me backward to the bed. He rips my coat down my arms, discarding it on the floor. We’re starved for each other. Our lips speak for us as we lower to the bed. The soft sheet tickles the skin on my back where my t-shirt rides up. A loud gasp escapes my lips when his chilled hands run up my bare stomach. His fingertips graze the cup of my bra, and I nibble on his bottom lip.

He rises to his knees in front of me. Through my eyelashes, I stare at him. I know what he sees in my expression. My mouth’s slack and my eyes sparkle with abandoned need. My chest heaves from the oxygen I’ve lost from his frantic kisses. If I died right now, I’ve experienced everything I’ve ever needed.

Without fail, I rub my knees together to ease the tension from looking at his strong body above me. His abdomen retracts and expands with every breath. He’s no longer the boy who asks permission or needs reassurance. Because he knows I want it, too, he takes. I could get used to his bold, intense movements.

How can he do this to me? One look, and I’m acting like a horned-up porn star.

He kisses me sweetly on the tip of my nose and backs off the bed.

“What am I thinking?” His hands tremble as he rubs the back of his neck. “You just got here. We haven’t seen each other in a month, and here I am, mauling you before you even have a chance to look around. I didn’t come here for a booty call, Kennedy.”

“If you’ve seen one hotel, you’ve seen them all. I’d be a little offended if this wasn’t sort of a booty call.” Brushing my hands over my limp body, I grin up at him.

“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Graham extends a hand to me, “to get in my pants, I’d like to talk for a little while.” He pulls me to my feet, and I let out a loud unappreciative groan.

Over his shoulder, I inspect the suite. The deep gray walls are breathtaking, but the white detailing is what brings the room together. The outside of the hotel and the lobby’s appearance make a person think the rooms would be gold plated with old-timey décor. No, this room is exquisite and modern. Breathtaking.

“Is this where you always stay when you’re in the city?” I ask. Bradley’s words play in the back of my mind. Don’t forget to ask Graham about his stays here. “I met Bradley. He’s a sweet man.” I lounge on the end of the bed. “Seems to be fond of you.”

“He’s nosy, is what he is.” Graham hands me a Dr. Pepper. His favorite.

“How often do you stay here?” I take a long sip of the dark soda. The bubbles from the carbonation tickle my nose.

“Ever … or,” he pauses, pulling out the chair tucked under the writing table, “or this past year? Because if you’re asking me ever, it’s too many to count. My family prefers the luxury of The Plaza over all the perfectly acceptable hotels in New York City.” His forearms rest on his thighs, and he wrings his hands together. Without glancing at me, he says, “If you’re asking me about this year, then I’d ask you how many performances you’ve had. That’s how many times I’ve stayed.”

To distract myself, I bite the inside of my cheek. My mind tells me to throw a true tantrum, like stomp my feet and roll around on the floor, but instead, I ask myself the questions I need the answers to. Why would he come to the city that often? Why wouldn’t he have called? When I come up empty handed, my feet carry me to where I’ll find the clarification I need. With his eyes focused on the ground, I crouch down in front of him to gain his full, undivided attention.

My voice is low and almost frightened when I say, “You came to the city for all of my performances?” That can’t be true. There’s no possible way he’d been there and I’d be completely unaware. He doesn’t answer, but when my hands rest on his thighs, his eyes shift to where I bounce on the balls of my feet. “Graham, answer me.”

“I came to every performance, except one. I missed Grand Central Station. My flight got delayed, and by the time I made it to the city, it was over,” Graham explains.

“Why?” I shake my head.

“Why what, Kennedy?” He stands, giving me no option but to back away when he pushes forward.

“Why come all that way to watch me perform, but not tell me you were here?”

He shakes his head. For him, the answer’s obvious, but I’m not so lucky. “It’s the same reason why I backed away from you after Craig’s attack and did a piss-poor job to keep my distance Senior year.” He turns to face me, the honey in his eyes molten. “On the outside, I appear to be this guy who’s complete. I come from money. I’m athletic. The world is at my fingertips, right? I know that’s what everyone thinks when they look at me, even back in high school. But in reality, I was a mess. I am a mess. Why on earth would I think I could be enough for someone like you? I’d just bring you down. For that simple reason, I gave you away. There isn’t a day I don’t regret the time we’ve lost, but there isn’t a day that I’m not thankful for it either. The time apart wasn’t just for you, Ken. The time apart was for me, too.”