“It’s still here.”
I smile sheepishly. “I would have called you eventually. Maybe.”
Graham pulls down the sticky note and folds it in half, sliding it into his pocket. “You won’t be needing it after tonight. I’ll make sure you have my number memorized before I leave here tomorrow.”
“That confident you’re staying over?”
Graham takes an assured step closer. He places a hand against the door beside my head, forcing my back against the door. It isn’t until he does this that I realize why I find him so attractive.
It’s because he makes me feel attractive. The way he looks at me. The way he talks to me. I’m not sure anyone has ever made me feel as beautiful as he makes me feel when he looks at me. Like it’s taking everything in him to keep his mouth away from mine. His eyes fall to my lips. He leans in so close, I can smell the flavor of gum he’s chewing. Spearmint.
I want him to kiss me. I want him to kiss me even more than I wanted Jason to stop kissing me. And that was a lot. But I feel like whatever is about to start with me and Graham, it needs to start with complete transparency. “I kissed Jason. Earlier. Before you got here.”
My comment doesn’t seem to dismay him. “I figured as much.”
I put my hands on his chest. “I just . . . I want to kiss you, too. But it’s weird because I just kissed someone else. I’d like to brush my teeth first.”
Graham laughs. I love his laugh. He leans in and presses his forehead to the side of my head, causing my knees to lock. His lips are right over my ear when he whispers. “Hurry. Please.”
I slip around him and rush to my bathroom. I pull open the drawer and grab my toothbrush and toothpaste like I’m racing against time. My hands are shaking as I squeeze the toothpaste onto my toothbrush. I turn on the water and start brushing my teeth furiously. I’m brushing my tongue when I look in the mirror and see Graham walk into the bathroom behind me. I laugh at how ridiculous this is.
I haven’t kissed a guy in six months. Now I’m brushing away the germs of one guy while the next one waits in line.
Graham seems to be enjoying the ridiculousness of this moment just as much as I am. He’s now leaning against the sink next to me, watching as I spit toothpaste into the sink. I rinse my toothbrush and then toss it aside, grabbing an empty glass. I fill it with water and take a sip, swishing the water around in my mouth until I’m certain my mouth is as clean as it’s going to get. I spit the water out and take another sip. This time I just swallow the water, though, because Graham takes the cup from me and sets it near the sink. He pulls the piece of gum out of his mouth, tossing it in the trash can, then he slides his other hand around my head and doesn’t even ask if I’m ready yet. He brings his mouth to mine, assured and eager, like the last sixty seconds of preparation have been pure torture. The moment our lips touch, it’s as if an ember that’s been slow-burning for six long months finally bursts into flames.
He doesn’t even bother with an introductory, slow kiss. His tongue is in my mouth like he’s been there many times before and knows exactly what to do. He turns me until my back is against the sink and then he lifts me, setting me down on my bathroom counter. He settles himself between my legs, grabbing my ass with both hands, pulling me against him. I wrap my arms around him, lock my legs around him. I try to convince myself I did not go my whole life never realizing this kind of kiss existed.
The way his lips move against mine makes me question the skills of every guy that came before him.
He starts to ease the pressure and I catch myself pulling him against me, not wanting him to stop. But he does. Slowly. He gives me a small peck on the corner of my mouth before pulling back.
“Wow,” I whisper. I open my eyes and he’s staring at me. But he’s not looking at me in awe like I’m looking at him. There’s a very noticeable dejected look on his face.
He shakes his head slowly, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t believe you never called me. We could have been kissing like this for months.”
His comment throws me off. So much so, I stumble over my words when I attempt a response. “I just . . . I guess I thought being around you would remind me of Ethan too much. Of everything that happened that night.”
He nods like he understands. “How many times have you thought of Ethan since seeing me at the restaurant tonight?”
“Once,” I say. “Just now.”
“Good. Because I’m not Ethan.” He lifts me, carrying me to the bed. He lays me down and then he backs away, pulling off his shirt. I’m not sure I’ve ever touched skin that smooth and tight and beautiful and tanned. Graham without a shirt is near perfection.