There’s a pause. A long one. Then, “I don’t believe you.” I’m not even sure what I’m insinuating with that comment, but it’s true. Idon’tbelieve him.
Anger flares in Graham’s eyes—anger at me, Derek, or the situation, I don’t know. “Someone’s gotta watch out for you,” he settles on.
“You’re not my brother,” I scoff.
“No. I’m not,” he practically spits.
“Then what are you—”
“God I really wanna pin you against a wall right now,” Graham mutters, taking a step forward, his blue eyes dark, his gaze … fuck, it’s the look he had in his eyes before we ...
I step away, my back hitting the wall of the narrow hallway. “Why don’t you?” I manage. It’s barely a whisper, barely anything, but before I’ve even managed to get it all out, Grahamhas both my wrists in his grasp and has pinned them to the wall at my sides—gently, but hard enough to keep me there.
“Why don’t you want me going home with him?” I breathe. Because even though I spent all last week avoiding Graham like the plague, avoiding the terrifying feelings growing within me, I want him to say it. I want him to say what I swear I’m seeing in his eyes right now.
Graham takes in a shaky breath. “Because no man is good enough for you.”
My heart hammers in my chest, loud enough that I worry he hears it. “And what about you?” I press.
“Especiallynot me,” he murmurs, his gaze dipping to my lips.
My chest rises and falls, the air between us way too thin. “Then why do you have me pinned against the wall?”
He closes his eyes, briefly, as if what he’s about to say pains him. “Because I’m not a good man, Delilah,” he breathes, and then he kisses me.
Chapter sixteen
Graham
She doesn’t resist when I take her hand in mine, lead her out the back door, and to my truck. She sits quietly, heat in her gaze, fingers tangling with the fabric of her skirt, as I drive us to my apartment.
“Harrison—” she starts as I park the truck.
“Is at Caitlin’s,” I say. I get out, slamming the car door, and so does Delilah. She follows me up the steps to my apartment, and I unlock the door. As soon as we’re inside, I kick the door shut behind me, grab Delilah around the waist, pull her body up against mine, and devour her.
She squeaks softly against me, and it only makes me hungrier. Makes me want her more. All of her. Over and over again. As much as she’ll give me.
Fuck, seeing her with that stupid fuckhead at Rick’s made my blood boil. Made me want to chuck my beer across the room at him. And while I spent all night fighting that feeling—shockedI was even having it—right now, in this moment, all I want is to give in.
Who cares that I’ve never felt jealous over a woman before in my life?
Who cares that Delilah deserves the best man on the planet?
And who cares that I’m practically the worst?
My hands gripping Delilah’s waist, I walk her backward, across the room and through the doorway to my bedroom, kicking the door shut behind me. My hands roam across her body, around her waist, the curve of her ass, pulling her tighter against me. I break our kiss to run my tongue up the side of her neck, hardening instantly when she sighs in response.
“I thought about you all week,” I admit, and I don’t even know why I’m saying it—it just comes out.
“Me too,” Delilah whimpers.
“How you looked, how you felt, how you sounded,” I murmur in her ear.
She sighs.
“Were you sore?” I ask.
She hesitates for a second, and I lean back so I can see her face. She bites her lip. “A little,” she admits.
