Jane’s cheeks reddened and she thanked him for his kind words.
As he turned to leave, he allowed his eyes to dance across Jane’s figure one last time before he spoke to Graham. “I know we’ve had some tough times, Graham. I know things haven’t always been easy for us, but I want to fix that. I think this interview is a step in that direction. Hopefully soon you’ll let me back into your life. Happy Thanksgiving, son.”
Kent drove off, leaving Graham and Jane standing on the porch. Jane shifted her feet around. “He seems lovely,” she commented.
Graham lowered his brows and stuffed his hands into his slacks, walking toward his car. “You do not know anything about the monster you speak of. You’re merely falling into his trap.”
She hurried behind him, trying to keep up in her high heels. “But still,” she argued. “He was kind.”
She didn’t say anything else, but Graham knew what she was thinking—that Kent was kind, funny, charming, and the opposite of the man Graham presented himself to be.
Kent radiated light while Graham lived in the shadows.
She had set him up. She had given him no real choice in his future by controlling his heart. Graham didn’t settle into the idea of not being Talon’s father. He fought it the best he could, and when he took the paternity test, I believed his heart hoped Lyric was wrong. When the results came in, I saw the light inside of him die away.
Lyric presented him with the biggest choice of his life that wasn’t even a choice, really: invite her back into his life so he could keep his daughter, or stay with me and she’d take Talon.
The day she told him, I was there. I stood by his side as she threatened to rip his world apart. She had all the control over every part of Graham, and I knew there was only one thing for me to do.
I had to pack my bags and go. I was certain I had to do it before he came back, too. He’d been speaking with a lawyer all afternoon, and I knew if I didn’t leave now, I’d only make things harder for him. He couldn’t lose his daughter; he couldn’t lose his soul.
And so, I began to pack my bags.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice dripping with confusion.
“Graham.” I sighed when I saw him standing in the doorway of the bathroom. His heavy-lidded mocha eyes stared at me as I reached for a towel and wrapped it around my body. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“I saw your things in the front lobby.”
“Yes.”
“You’re leaving,” he said breathlessly. He had shaved the day before, and yet his five o’clock shadow was already back. His lips were tight, and I knew for a fact he was clenching his teeth. His chiseled, square jawline was always more evident when he clenched his teeth.
“I think it’s for the best.”
“You really think so?” He stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The sound of the running water was the only noise for a few seconds as we stared at one another.
“Yes, I do,” I replied as the pit of my stomach fell and my heart drummed. I followed his hand as he reached for the doorknob and locked it. His steps toward me were slow as heat curled down my spine. “Graham, please,” I begged, although I didn’t know if I was begging for him to stay or go.
“I need you,” he whispered. He was in front of me, his stare locked with mine, and even though he hadn’t touched me yet, I felt his entire being. “Please,” he begged back, his thumb tilting my chin up as he bit his bottom lip. “Don’t leave me.” His hands grasped my behind through the towel and my breath hitched. His mouth grazed down my neck and he whispered between kisses as he lifted me up, forcing me to drop my towel to the floor. “Stay with me. Please, Lucy, just stay.”
I knew how hard that was for him—to ask for someone to stay—but I also knew the reasons why I couldn’t.
My mind sizzled as he held my body against his and stepped over the edge of the tub, forcing the shower to rain over us. His lips bit against my breast before he took my nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard. My mind fogged as he shoved my back against the shower wall, his clothes getting soaked and clinging to his skin.
“Gra…” I felt dizzy, faint, happy, high. So high…
His fingers moved down my chest, down my stomach, and he slid them inside me with need, with want, with ache. “Don’t leave me, Lucille, please. I can’t lose you,” he whispered against my lips before discovering my mouth with his tongue. “I need you more than you know. I need you.”
Everything quickened—his motions, his grips, his fingers, his tongue. I hurriedly unbuckled his jeans, sending them to the bottom of the tub, and stroked his hardness through his soaked boxers. When those were removed, he pulled his fingers from my core and locked eyes with me.