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There’s no way he knows how much this has affected me. Losing sleep. Popping antacids like a motherfucker. All because I. Don’t. Fail.
“Oh! Barrett told me one the other day about grapes—”
“Lincoln . . .” He cackles. “You need me for advice. This has to be one of the best days of my life. I knew you’d need me sooner or later.”
So many men get worn by the suit. Graham Landry definitely wears his.
“I want to feel . . . like the me I used to know. I want to feel alive. I want to wake up and smile. I want to accomplish things, to feel powerful. I want to have things to look forward to, have goals, find someone that wants to laugh with me, go hiking, or get ice cream. That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”
“You were making a point today.” Graham takes the final step to close the distance between us, our chests nearly touching. “Point. Made.” I gasp a quick breath. “Now it’s my turn to make a fucking point.” With that, his lips cover mine and I melt into his arms.
Undoing the top two buttons, I lean in and whisper against his ear, “I didn’t think you’d need a game plan laid out for you for this, Graham.”
His hands falter at the waistband of his boxer briefs, his eyes flipping to mine. “Oh, baby. You’re going to come and I’m most definitely going to be watching. But I’m going to be buried so deep inside you that you won’t know where you end and I start.”
“I’ll make reservations at Zuva. My friend Fenton Abbott has been asking me to try his new restaurant anyway,”
“I look at you and think what a good girl you are. When I’m with you, I just want to stay there forever. When I’m not with you, I want to be.”
When he pulls back, I know things won’t quite be the same between us. “You ready?” “Let’s go.”
Love isn’t the words you use to say it, but the actions you take to prove it’s true.