Their mouths came together with ease and familiarity. Claire tugged at his shirt and he pulled back long enough for her to pull it over his head, then their lips met again. In seconds her dress pooled around her waist and her bra was tossed to the floor. Feeling her warm skin against his was like heaven.
Scooting her hips as close to his as they would go, Claire wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. Her arms wound around his back and her lips went to his neck, and he was in a cocoon of warm, soft, delicious-smelling woman.
This, right here, was one of the best experiences of Graham’s existence.
“Don’t move,” he murmured. “Can we just stay like this all the time?”
“Exactly like this?” she teased, her breath against his neck.
“Well, maybe one or two parts could be rearranged. If you could just lift up a little, I could…”
She laughed, shifting sideways to shimmy out of her underwear. She settled back down, kissing her way up his rough jaw and meeting his lips for a deep kiss. His body heat rose with each touch, his skin like an inferno poised to set the room on fire.
Tracing his lips along the shell of her ear, he relished the way she trembled in his arms and whispered the things he would do to her if he could. With a moan that signaled she was getting to the end of her rope, she lifted up on her knees and wedged her hand between their bodies, working his zipper as he reached out to fumble blindly in the top drawer of his bedside table.
Seconds later, Graham was groaning into her hair, wondering if this thing with Claire might be the thing that healed him, or if he’d end up broken in even more pieces than before.
“I’m not a big fan of calling it fucking.”
Claire was draped over his chest as he traced figure eights along her bare back.
“No?”
“No. It sounds so crass to me.”
“Sorry. I just figured it was the best way to describe what we’re doing.” Graham tucked his free hand behind his head. “What do you want me to call it? Making love feels too flowery and boning just sounds juvenile.”
She openly admired his biceps as she spoke. “Can’t we just say we’re having sex?”
“I guess. It’s kind of clinical.”
“Clinical would be intercourse. Or coitus.”
Graham shuddered. “You’re right, sex is better.”
“Penetration?”
“There’s no excuse to use that word. Ever.”
Claire laughed against his chest and his heart did something funny, which he ignored.
They lay there a few moments without speaking. Graham couldn’t stop thinking about what they just did, and how incredible it was despite him being in less than peak condition. What was she thinking about?
“I’m sorry your date was an asshole,” he finally said.
She smirked at him. “Seemed to work out well in your favor.”
He cracked a grin. “I didn’t say I was sorry it didn’t work out. I’m just sorry he was a dick to you. He didn’t deserve even a second of your time.”
“Agreed.”
“In fact, I want all the seconds he got. Take them back and give them to me.”
She put her hand flat on his chest and propped her chin there. “That’s not how time works. I don’t have the superpower you gave me.”
“What did you guys talk about before you met up? He doesn’t get to know anything about you I don’t.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. You know way more about me than he does. You know more than almost anyone I know, actually. You and Mia are the only ones who really know how my dad died. Only you know I’ve watched the Jess and Nick episode of New Girl dozens of times.”
“You know more about me than anyone else, too.”
“Really? What’s mine and mine alone?”
“Nathan knew about my mom’s diagnosis. You’re my only living friend that does. And I’ve never told anyone else we were too poor to have a pet.”
“And yet you still won’t tell me about Angela DiMarco.”
I did, though. You just don’t know it. “Don’t be greedy.”
“I can’t help it. I like knowing you, Graham.”
It took the words a few seconds to come out, as if his brain worried he was admitting to something more serious.
“I like knowing you, too.”
From: [email protected]
Subject: The sex
Claire,
You’ve officially ruined me for other women.