Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)

The look she shot him was so maternal, he wondered if she’d ground him.

“‘Worried’ is not the word I would use.” She let her purse drop to the love seat and sank down beside it. Her head flopped forward into her hands. He took the sofa, sitting close enough to reach out and touch her. He wanted to. But he wouldn’t. Not yet.

“‘Worried’ makes it sound like I sort of thought about it, but knew it would be okay. Like how I worry when he’s taking a big social studies test because he hates to read about history. Or worry he’ll leave his EpiPen at home . . . but never has.” She looked at him then, eyes full of tears he knew she was battling hard to not shed. “Terror is probably more accurate. I couldn’t breathe. Graham, I . . .” She fluttered a hand over her chest, and it heaved with the effort to draw in air. “I couldn’t . . . oh, God.” Her voice was thin, and he could see she was a hair’s breadth from a full blown panic attack.

“Hey, hey. Come here.” Without waiting for her to protest, he tossed her purse on the coffee table, sat beside her on the love seat and pulled her against him. When she clenched a fist in his T-shirt, he knew she was so far gone she didn’t even realize who held her. He waited until her breathing subsided, continually rubbing at her back with the palm of his hand and making a lot of low, soothing sounds.

He flashed back to the thought of carrying Zach, and what a humble, trusting weight that had been in his arms. How right it had felt, how amazing. And thought to Zach’s mother, the woman he held now. He wanted that same weight from her. Wanted her to freely hand him her troubles to help her carry them. Wanted to hold her and be humbled by her faith.

After a while, Kara’s grip on his shirt loosened and she sat back, wiping under her eyes. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Don’t apologize.” God, don’t apologize. “You had a scare. If you hadn’t needed a minute to collect yourself, I would have been shocked. It means you’re human, and you love him.”

“Some days, I wonder why,” she muttered, wiping once more below her eyelashes before shaking it off. “I can’t believe I just fell apart like that.”

“Kara, stop.” When she looked at him, eyes wide in surprise at his tone, he gentled it a little. “You’re allowed to fall apart. There’s not one parent out there who can say they’re strong all the time.”

“And they’ve got a partner to pick up the slack.” The monotone way she said it, and how her eyes dulled, made him want to find Zach’s sperm donor of a father and beat him up. “I’ve got to stay strong or else I’ll lose it, completely.”

He didn’t answer that, since it seemed as though there was no way for him to argue the point without it turning into a fight.

“I should collect him and get out of your hair. I can’t believe he bothered you like this.”

“In a minute.” He rocked a bit, and was surprised as she leaned into the movement, letting him take her on the gentle wave.

“Bend a little,” he said in a hushed tone, not wanting to break whatever moment had allowed Kara to give him this much trust. “You’ve got five people right here, at least, who want to be a safety net.”

She murmured something he couldn’t quite catch, then tipped her head back up. When her eyes half-closed, he took a chance and brushed his lips lightly across her cheek, ending just a breath from the corner of her mouth. Enough that it could be construed as a bolstering, friendly gesture.

Or not.

She turned more toward him, and their lips met more firmly. First tentative, then more bold, she nibbled on his lower lip, then swept her tongue across to soothe the sting before opening her mouth to let his own tongue in to taste.

Graham gripped the couch cushions hard enough he felt a few seams on the arm pop. But there was no way he could possibly touch her now. He’d ruin it, for both of them, and he was not giving up this moment for anything in the world. If she wanted more, she’d have to take it. And God, he’d give her whatever she wanted.

After another moment, she moaned and rose up on her knees to press more firmly against him, then straddled him. Her breasts flattened against his chest, her core settled firmly against his erection. Her thin yoga bottoms were of zero consequence; he felt it all. Everything. The pure heat of her, the way she opened for him. She had to feel the same.

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