“What?” she asked.
I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Kevin. Where he blurted out all sorts of shit about Cindy she would probably kill him for. I felt a kindred sort of spirit with her. She understood my pain, what with losing a spouse. And with how easy conversation seemed to be with her, it felt okay to broach this topic.
I sort of wanted to with her.
“I know people around here talk about me,” I said. “Say things like I have a family I abandoned and all that.”
“I never believed that,” Cindy said.
“I’m glad. But I did have a family once. A wife and a son.”
“What happened?”
“They were killed. Home invasion a couple years back.”
“Oh my gosh. Graham, I’m…”
I picked up my fork and took a bite of my food. I wanted something to do to occupy my jaw other than blurting out shit about my life to this woman. Her eyes were locked on me, and I didn’t want to look at her. I hated that look of pity. Of sympathy. Of ‘Oh I’m so sorry’ and ‘What can I do?’
But I felt a warmth descend onto my hand, and I looked over to see Cindy holding it.
“Lily’s father, my, uh, my late husband--”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“He was killed in combat,” Cindy said.
“He was in the military?”
“Yes. It was his last deployment before getting out, and there was an ambush. He saved the lives of the guys in his Humvee, but gave his life in the process.”
“So, he was a hero.”
“Yeah. He was. He died a little over a year ago, and it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Burying him.”
“I know the feeling,” I said.
I lifted my eyes to look at hers, and I didn’t find anything I thought I would. There was no pity or sadness. No sympathy or regret. Instead, there was empathy, a person who understood. A person who reflected back to me the same pain I saw in my own eyes every time I looked in the mirror. Her hand was gripping my wrist, massaging me and trying to comfort me while she struggled with the same emotions, the same feelings and issues.
I turned my hand up and captured her fingers in mine. I sat there, staring at her as our food got cold. Our connection grew. The moment between us grew. It filled the space around us and encompassed the restaurant we were in until all the outside noises faded into the background. In all the anger I had waded through the past two years—in all of the sleepless nights and the tears I cried and the anger I fought with on a daily basis—I never thought I’d find someone who understood.
We ate our lunch in relative silence, but it was comfortable. I paid the tab and escorted her out, and I could’ve sworn I felt her lean into my hand. Her fingers laced with mine as I took her home, her pulse beating against my wrist as we sat staring out the windshield. We drove and took in what it felt like to be in common company.
We pulled into my driveway, and there was something inside of me that wasn’t ready to let her go. I looked over at her, and she smiled, but she made no move to leave. She didn’t release my hand or unbuckle her seatbelt or say goodbye.
She simply sat and smiled and waited.
“Do you wanna come in? Have a drink or something?” I asked.
“I’d really like that, yeah.”
I led her into the house, feeling her heat beating down on my back. She followed me in, and I shut the door behind her, all the while painfully aware of the outfit she was wearing. A tight pair of dark skinny jeans and a printed satin blouse. It flowed around her beautiful body and clung tightly to her neck but was sleeveless so I could gawk at how beautiful her arms were.
The pull was too strong. The need to hold her was too much. I felt myself moving toward her as my mind screamed “no.” Flashes of my CIA office and faces of the criminal group ran through my mind, trying to trip the emergency evacuation button I’d rattled around in my head. Cindy’s face got closer, and my hands found her waist. The calluses of my hands sank onto her body as her hands threaded around my neck. Fire alarms were raging in my head and visions of my boss telling me to abort because I’d been made were bouncing off the corners of my mind.
But our lips were connected, and our tongues were dancing. My arms were wrapping Cindy’s back, and her lips were swelling underneath the contact of mine. She tasted like lemonade and sesame sauce and all the things I had denied myself for years. She pressed her body into me as her hands raked through my hair.
Her warmth pushed all the thoughts and reactions out of my mind, and as I backed her into the kitchen counter, I could feel her panting, gasping, and rolling her hips as my lips traveled down her cheek.
I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. I wanted to feel her body against mine and graze her thighs with my beard. I wanted to fill her up and feel her clamp down around me. I wanted to know what she felt like underneath my fingertips.
I wanted to connect with the woman who understood a part of me I’d never expected to reveal.
And I wanted to give her the same in return.
CHAPTER 15
CINDY
My hips connected with his kitchen counter as the kissing intensified. His hands were all over me as I threaded my arms around his neck. I felt alive. On fire. Ignited with electricity and surging with pleasure. I couldn't help myself. Even though a part of me was wracked with a guilt that made me nauseous, I couldn't stop. His tongue traveled along the roof of my mouth, making my knees grow weak.
My legs gave out from underneath me as Graham’s arms tightened around my body.
I could feel his rock-hard cock pressed against me. He wanted me as badly as I wanted him. There was something about that notion that made me smile into his kiss as his hands traveled my curves. He cupped my ass and gripped my thighs, bouncing between letting me lead and taking what he wanted. He pinned me against his counter as my hands traveled down to his chest.
I could feel the swell of his strength underneath my fingertips.
His hands gripped my ass again, and I jumped against his body. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my hands threading through his hair. My lips traveled down his neck as he carried me through his house and then closed a door behind us with his foot.
We were in his bedroom, and his hands were sliding up my shirt.
Piece by piece, we ripped our clothes off. He yanked my shirt over my head, and I fell to my knees and took his pants with me. He pulled me off the floor and tossed me onto his bed, his eyes filled with a predatory instinct.
I watched him remove his boxers, taking in the thick cock he had bouncing between his legs.
He crashed into me, our naked bodies taking in one another. I ran my hands up and down his back, caressing the chiseled muscles there. His arms were bulging with veins, and his legs were trimmed with sinewy strength. He was sin incarnate, and I couldn't get enough of him.
His lips traveled down my neck, nipping and sucking at my delicate skin. His hands were firm but gentle, holding me to his bed but not pinning me so I couldn't move. His lips wrapped around my nipples, lapping and sucking and making my thighs grow wet with want.
I spread my body open for him as he continued to travel down the length of my form.
My eyes locked with him as he dipped between my legs. That cheeky little grin spread across his face. My legs were shaking, waiting in anticipation for what was going to come next. His lips kissed my thighs and lapped up the juices already gathering on my skin.
Then, he parted my pussy folds and began to devour me.