When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(51)

“That doesn’t explain why you came to my performances.”

“The first time I saw you dance I fell in love with you. My mind didn’t register it, but my heart was on board from the second you stepped onto the stage wearing those damn black leggings and sequin tank top.” His recollection makes my heart do a weird flutter. “Kennedy, there’s nothing like you performing. Even if we never found our way back here,” he ghosts a hand between us, “to this place, I’d find a way to watch you dance until the day I died, even if it broke my heart every time.”

My arms lay limp at my sides. If Graham’s willing to expose himself, then I have to be, too. In the past, self-preservation would have fueled me to wipe away the tears, but not today. His fingers twitch to dry them. His head tilts to the side, mirroring my inspection of him. Our chests heave as we try to control our erratic breathing.

“You’ve always loved me,” I whisper. “Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

He shrugs, as if the idea of him holding on when I was desperate to let him go, isn’t a big deal. When in reality, our reality, it is. My willingness to let the world consume me could have led to our destruction.

“Thank you for giving up Georgia for me,” I say. Hands down, this is the most selfish I will ever feel. “If you hadn’t, I might never have gotten the strength to come back to you.” My hand rests on his chest, keeping rhythm with the rise and fall from his deep breaths.

“None of it –the scholarship, the dreams– none of it is worth having if you aren’t by my side to have them with me.”

“But it’s what you always wanted.” As happy as I am for his transfer to UConn, I’m scared he’ll resent giving up his dream for me.

He kisses my forehead. “It’s what I always thought I wanted. Dreams change, Kennedy.”

I melt into the boy who stole my heart a long time ago.

“Do you want to rent a movie or something? Or are you hungry? We can call up room service,” Graham suggests.

“Can we do all of it?” The idea of getting into pajamas is wonderful. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have clothes. I wasn’t expecting a fancy night in a hotel with you.”

“Text Violet and have her gather some things for you. Bradley’ll go pick it up.”

“I’m not making Bradley go get my underwear.”

“Don’t pack any, then.” Graham laughs, picking the phone up from the stand, an inviting grin on his face. “Not like you’ll be needing them anyway.”

The grin practically singes my panties right off. My center softens, and a pool forms between my legs. “I’ll text Violet.” I pull out my phone, giving her specific instruction.

“I owe you big time,” Graham addresses Bradley. “Yes. No. Yes. Cut it out. You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” He pushes the end button and places the cordless on the stand.

“One good thing has come from our time apart.” I move in front of him, and he runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.

My stomach flutters. “Oh, and what’s that?” I whisper, my voice full of desire and need.

“You’re tightly wound, Ken, and I can’t wait for you to unravel.”

At his words, my tongue slips out, barely grazing his thumb. His pants tent. I’ve always been aware of my ability to rile Graham up, but this is not the same. Sex when you're a teenager, compared to when you're in your twenties, is different in many incredible ways. I’ve come into my own, and I’m not ashamed of my need for Graham with his hazy eyes and lust on his tongue.

My hand wraps around his neck, and I yank him flush against my body, closing the divide between us. Our lips collide. His tongue slides along the seam of my mouth, and I’m more than happy to open for him. We sweep and dance until we fall to the bed again. Maybe this need is our bodies making up for lost moments.

After a severe make-out session, I roll until I pin Graham’s body beneath me. He drags my shirt over my head. Bringing it to his nose, he inhales my scent. A sense of mortification crosses over my heart, but is replaced by need and understanding. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve smelled a pillow or hugged a sweatshirt to relive Graham’s unique scent. Some may think it’s strange, but the small gesture tells me everything I need to know.

“You’re beautiful.” His hands rest on my hips.

“I thought you were going to let me take in the room before you take my clothes off.” My eyes dance to my bra and back to Graham.

“I haven’t taken off all your clothes. You’re practically dressed like a nun.” His grin grows.

Graham kisses me again and I already foresee where this is headed. As his lips graze against mine, a soft knock sounds at the door. We groan, and I move off his lap.

“Housekeeping,” a strange female voice shouts.

Graham tosses my shirt to me and answers the door. Bradley walks in, a smirk on his face and a wink only for me. Graham stomps back to the bed, and I give myself a mental pat on the back when he adjusts himself to hide his arousal.

“Ms. Conrad, your roommate is rather …” His head bobs back and forth as he struggles to come up with a respectful word. He gently places my familiar overnight bag on the table.