I said it all very quickly, the words soft and slightly embarrassed.
I’d always wanted to make something of myself. To prove that I was more than the people who raised me. More than the rumors and the whispers and the mud the world had smeared across my name. I wanted to help people like my brother—people who were innocent even if no one believed them. People the system took advantage of.
Graham’s thumb ghosted along my cheekbone, swiping back and forth across my skin.
“Don’t you want to be happy?”
The question was soft and tentative as his eyes searched mine.
I locked my stare on his. “Maybe I do now.”
There it was—the confession I hadn’t even wanted to admit, not even to myself.
Graham leaned forward, making my skin tingle. “What would make you happy, little lynx?”
He was so close, the rush of his warm breath fanned over my mouth. It opened without me thinking, my heart skittering at theway he said it. Little lynx. Like he was caressing each syllable as it ran over his tongue.
“Why do you call me that?” I asked, my voice ragged and heady from his proximity.
His mouth kicked up at one corner, flashing his teeth. “Because I think it suits you.” He somehow drew even closer without managing to touch me. “You’re a sharp, wild, vicious little thing sometimes…”
If I breathed too hard, his lips were going to be on mine. “Vicious?”
There was no offense in my tone.
“You bite.”
My teeth sank into my bottom lip. I just wanted him to kiss me, but he hadn’t attempted to close the hair’s width of space between us.
“And that doesn’t scare you?”
“No,” he said without hesitation.
“Why not? Do you just…love torture or something?”
He let out a sound that resembled a chuckle, rumbling deep in his chest. My entire body vibrated with it.
“I can’t say I’m particularly sadistic, no.”
This felt like torture, though. My gaze darted to his mouth before they returned to his eyes, wide with longing.
Just kiss me, Graham.
“What would make you happy?” He repeated the question, tilting his head so he could lean a fraction nearer without our noses touching.
My pulse pounded, blood rushing through my body, heating my skin.
The answer was on my lips before I could stop it. Before I could even think about it.
“You.”
He finally closed the space, that gap that had felt like a chasm between our mouths. He tasted of amber and spice and a hint of chocolate. I inhaled until my lungs ached, my lips devouring his. It was frantic and heated and urgent, but it was also grounding. Like some deep understanding snapping into place.
He kissed me like he’d been holding himself back for a lifetime. The restraint I had seen in him for weeks finally cracked open. His mouth slanted over mine, hungry and sure, and I melted into him with a desperate sound I couldn’t swallow.
His other hand slid up until he held my face in both his hands, guiding me closer—until I was practically climbing into his lap. My fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in because I needed him everywhere.
His other arm wrapped around my waist, anchoring me, deepening the kiss until I was drowning in him: in his warmth, his scent, his steady, unshaking resolve that made me feel like I could trust something for once in my life.
