Chasing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 4) (30 page)

“Do you love me?”

Alexa went still. She couldn’t answer that question. She didn’t know how to quantify what she felt for him.

“I want to be with you. Every day, I wake up with you on my mind. You’re the best part of my day.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Alexa swallowed. “Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

The word pulled her toward him as if it had gravitational force, their faces just inches apart. His was a love that shredded her control. Shredded and burned.

“You said you wanted to see if we could have more. You never said you loved me.”

“The last thing I wanted was to be another guy putting pressure on you.”

“I know you’re not Adam.” Her defense of him flew from her in a sprint.

“Still. I don’t want to scare you off by pushing for too much, too soon.”

“Do you think I’m that much of a coward?”

“When it comes to love, I think you’re scared.”

“A coward.”

“Alexa,” he paused, reaching out to twirl a lock of her hair around his finger. “I wouldn’t use that word.”

“Because you’re being nice. And I’ve been blind and stupid and narcissistic.”

“I know you care about me. I can hear it when I talk to you on the phone. I see a light in your eyes when you look at me.”

“And that’s enough for you?”

“No, but I see you opening up a little more every time I see you. It’s not like being afraid to commit is a completely foreign concept to me.”

“I can’t tell you that I love you. I don’t even know why.”

“I know.”

She couldn’t say anything else—not with the openness and love in his eyes. So, she showed him.

A
lexa’s eyes
popped open at six a.m. Pale, early morning sunlight slanted through Graham’s shutters.

He lay naked beside her. His dove gray cotton sateen sheet slanted nicely across his lower abdomen. He’d thrown his arms up over his head, stretching the muscles of his chest. Sexy asleep. Sexy awake.

She couldn’t help but reach to the feel the prickle of his chest hair, drawing a hand down between his pecs to his belly. Happy trail indeed.

“Mornin’, beautiful.” Her gaze flipped up to his half-open eyes and that familiar satisfied grin. The grumbling rasp in his voice did things to her insides. He rolled over and slid his hand along her hip.

“Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Early. Too early. I’m going back to sleep.”

She rubbed her fingernails over his stomach. He grunted, and his eyes slipped closed. In a snap, the rugged angles of his face softened with sleep. Alexa traced the bones of the hand slackened at her waist with her fingertips. Leave it to Graham to have an impeccable manicure.

Soft brown hair flecked his arms from his wrist to his elbows, ending before the hard hills of his biceps and shoulders. He trembled, and his lashes fluttered. Alexa withdrew her hand, so she wouldn’t disturb him again—even though she now had no hope of getting back to sleep herself.

The kissable bow of his mouth taunted her. Her belly tightened. What else would a man love more than to wake up to a woman ready for sex? She almost strummed his lips and slipped her hand under the smooth sateen sheet.

There was one other thing a man might want to wake up to, maybe not more than sex, but close to it. Could she still remember how to make her mother’s biscuits and pancakes? How hard was bacon? She could do this.

Alexa rolled carefully out of bed and padded downstairs. His refrigerator had nothing more than cold party leftovers, some eggs, and a half-gallon of milk past its best-by date.

After snagging a pen and slip of notepaper from a small nook in the kitchen, she scribbled a message and snuck back upstairs to leave it on his pillow.

Disappearing in a puff of smoke to the store, but I’ll be back. Be hungry. I’m cooking.

—A

He thrashed and turned over, but didn’t wake up. Alexa decided to dress in one of the spare rooms and grabbed her overnight bag. Let him be surprised.

* * *

G
raham felt himself falling
. The earth spun up toward him at an uncontrollable speed. His heart seized. And with a start, he snapped up straight in his bed. The covers were half tossed to the floor, and the pillow from Alexa’s side of the bed was missing—as was Alexa.

Gone. Again.

He shot out of bed and pulled the comforter back and forth, then snatched up the fallen pillow. Nothing.

Fuck. She was gone. Again.

The thought repeated itself over and over in a waking nightmare that made him want to hit the reset button, fall back asleep, and let himself splatter on the ground.

He searched for her overnight bag and her purse. They, too, were gone.

To call himself foolish would be a cruel understatement. He told her that he loved her—confident that his assurance would seep into her. She seemed to want to love him, to want to let herself be happy. He’d been kidding himself.

He stormed out of his bedroom, passing through the game room on his way to the stairs. Alexa’s discarded lounge pants, T-shirt, and underwear were still strewn over the floor. So was the upturned bowl of popcorn—a casualty of their fervor the night before.

Graham closed his eyes and remembered how she’d reached for him and silently pulled her shirt over her head. Once she straddled him, his hands cupped her heavy breasts, which swung toward him. God, the way her nipples pebbled under the pads of his thumbs.

Even now, when she’d left him again, he wanted her. He’d never get her out of his system, but no matter. This game they played of who could run away fastest was over. He’d have to send her a trophy as a parting gift.

A headache put a vice grip on his temples, and he pounded down the stairs to make some coffee. The silence of the house imparted a sharp loneliness he’d never felt before.

He walked by the back door, which wasn’t locked. Great. On top of everything else, she left his house unsecured so he could get robbed blind. He flipped the deadbolt with resolve.

Leaning on the cold granite counter, he waited with his face in his hands for the espresso maker to heat up and provide him with needed caffeine.

A fast rapping on the back door made him jump.

Did she really drive all the way back here for her pajamas and underwear?

He crossed the kitchen, unbolted the door, and snatched it open. Her eyes and smile were as bright as the sun glowing behind her.

“Did you forget something?”

Her gaze roamed his face, and she stumbled back. “You didn’t get my note.”

“What note?”

“I left you a note. I wasn’t leaving.”

Only then did he notice the grocery sacks hanging at her sides—fury and hurt swirling inside him. “I didn’t see it.”

“I left it on my pillow.”

He pinched his nose, eyes squeezed shut. “I must have…What did it say?”

“That I was disappearing to the grocery store and would be back.” Her arms flexed, lifting the bags to shoulder level. “I’m cooking you breakfast.”

“You don’t cook.”

“Not often. No, but…I wanted to do something for you.” The glossy brown of her eyes pulled his heart nearly out of his chest. “You thought I’d left you. God, the look on your face when you opened the door.”

A tear spilled down her cheek, and she and her words flew at him in a rush. He shut the door behind her.

“I’m sorry. I should have just woken you up, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I thought you’d like it if I cooked for you. And…this is what I’ve done. You don’t trust me. And you shouldn’t. You look me right in the eyes and tell me that you love me, and I freeze up. I can’t get the words out. You might not call me a coward, but that’s what I’ve been.”

Alexa swiped the back of her hand across her eye. The heavy grocery bag swayed against her as she dropped it back down to her leg.

“You looked at me like I was dead to you. Like you were lost to me forever.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes full of fear and apology. Graham took the bags from her and set them on the counter. Then, he enveloped her as close to his body as he could as if to eliminate all possibility of separating ever again.

“I thought you’d left again.”

“I didn’t.” She pulled out of his arms and placed her palms on either side of his face, pressing her forehead to his. Their brown eyes locked. “I’m not going to.”

“Don’t make me promises that you can’t keep.”

“I can keep that one.”

Tentative and still sniffling, she brushed his lips with her own. Once. Twice. The light friction pulled all the anger out of his body, leaving nothing but how much he wanted her.

Graham plunged his tongue in her mouth and gripped her tight until she moaned. Her yielding softness unleashed his relief and his joy. Alexa’s hand wandered below the waistband of his sweatpants, gripping his bare ass.

She groaned and took her mouth and hands away. “Later. I’m making you breakfast.”

“Forget breakfast. Who needs food?”

“I do. I’m actually starving.”

He held her, not ready to let her go. Her hair was still slightly damp. “You already showered.”

“I did. Why don’t you go up and do that? I’ll cook.”

“Is there any point? I plan on getting sweaty again in an hour or so.”

“You have a one-track mind.”

“I do. And you love it. Admit it.”

“Yeah. I do.”

A
lexa fumbled to roll over
, extending an arm in search of her husband. She smiled. Instead of finding Graham, she found a note duct-taped to the pillow.

Happy anniversary! Making breakfast. Bring your appetite.

— G

One year. One year since she and Graham decided to abandon their wedding plans and fly to Vegas. Her mother was only just now forgiving her because Brenda Stevens saw how happy Graham made her daughter. Her father missed walking her down the aisle, but as he put it, “I don’t miss footing the bill, so we’ll call it even.”

Alexa threw on a robe and walked downstairs. Graham stood shirtless over the stove. She tiptoed up behind him and ran her hands up his back to his shoulders and started the day the same way she had for over a year now.

“Mmm. I love you.” Her husky whisper in his ear carved a smile on her husband’s face.

“You love my cooking.”

“That too. What are you making?”

“Omelets.”

“With veggies.”

“Yours with veggies. Mine with bacon and cheese.”

“Remind me to nag you about a trip to the cardiologist.”

“This is what it’s like having a wife. Nag. Nag.”

She slapped him on the rear. “This is why married men live longer.”

Graham flipped the omelet onto a waiting plate and turned around. His mouth claimed hers. He nudged his hips against hers, revealing his intentions.

“The omelets are getting cold.”

His weak protest only propelled Alexa on. She circled his nipple with her thumb and mumbled, “Since when do you care?”

“I don’t.”

He pushed her back against the kitchen island opposite the stove and untied her robe. His hands roamed as he knelt down, bringing a compliant Alexa with him.

“The floor is impossibly hard.”

Graham lowered himself onto his back. “Yeah, that’s not the only thing. I’ll be on the bottom. Never say I didn’t sacrifice.”

She laughed and climbed astride him. “I never would.”

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