17. Francesca
17
FRANCESCA
The sun is dipping low, casting a warm glow over Avalon Falls as we make our way back toward the bookstore. It should feel the same as every other Tuesday. The same easy walk, the same familiar footsteps falling in sync, the same warm weight of Romeo’s leash wrapped around my waist.
But it doesn’t.
Because I want him to kiss me.
It’s all I’ve been able to think about for the last twenty minutes. Maybe even the last four weeks. And definitely every single day since last week.
I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like. If he kisses the way he looks at me. If it’ll be slow, deliberate, controlled. Or if, when his lips finally touch mine, all that quiet intensity will shatter, leaving nothing but heat and hunger in its wake. I want to know what his beard feels like against my skin and those broad shoulders under my palms.
I’m pushing thirty years old and here I am, thinking about kissing a boy like I’m fourteen. Though I have a hard time imagining Graham as a boy. He probably went from tween to man in the blink of an eye.
His stride is easy, relaxed, like he has nowhere else to be. Like he doesn’t feel this unbearable something humming in the air between us.
I glance over at him, admiring the sharp cut of his jaw, the fullness of his lips. He must feel my gaze on him because he turns his head, hazel eyes locking with mine. Something warm and electric zips through me at the eye contact.
“What’s on your mind, Francesca?” His deep voice is tinged with amusement.
I clear my throat. “You know, I think Romeo likes you best.”
Graham hums, giving the dog a lazy glance. “I think he just likes the treats.”
I scoff. “He’s not so easily bought.”
His lips twitch. “If you say so.”
I bump my shoulder against his playfully. “I do say so. Romeo is an excellent judge of character.”
Graham’s hand brushes mine as we walk, sending a shiver down my spine. “And what about you?” he asks, voice low. “What’s your verdict?”
My heart stutters in my chest. I lick my lips, pulse racing as I meet his intense gaze. “I think . . . I think you’re full of surprises, Graham Carter.”
His eyes darken as he nods. “I can work with that.”
The anticipation builds with each step back to the bookstore, a heady, electric current buzzing beneath my skin. By the time we reach the front door, my heart is pounding, my breath coming a little quicker.
I don’t want to say goodbye yet. I don’t want to walk inside and let another seven days pass without knowing.
He looks down at me, and for the first time since we started this Tuesday routine, he hesitates. His fingers flex at his sides like there’s something he wants to say but won’t.
That’s all it takes. That tiny, fleeting crack in his composure.
I step forward. I don’t let myself overthink it. I don’t let myself second-guess it. I press onto my toes, closing the space between us, and press my lips to his.
For a heartbeat, he freezes, his entire body going still.
A terrible understanding pours over me like a bucket of cold water. I rock back onto my heels, embarrassment flooding my cheeks with color.
“I’m sor?—”
His hands come up to cradle my face, his fingers sinking into my hair as he swallows my apology with his lips. He kisses me with a fervor that steals the air from my lungs, his mouth hot and insistent against mine.
The world around us falls away until there is nothing but the press of his body against mine, the rasp of his beard against my skin, the intoxicating taste of him on my tongue. He kisses me like a man starved, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as I have.
My hands slide up, palms smoothing over his shoulders and fingers curling into the front of his shirt. He makes a low sound in his throat, something rough and approving, and it sends a shiver straight through me. He tilts my head, deepening the kiss with devastating precision.
It’s hot. Controlled. Like he’s barely holding himself together.
Like if he lets himself go even a fraction more, he’ll lose every ounce of restraint he has.
And god, do I want him to.
My fingers tighten in Graham’s shirt as he kisses me deeply, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. A moan catches in my throat, the sound swallowed by his lips. Heat races through my veins, pooling low in my belly. I arch into him, wanting to be closer, needing to feel more of him against me.
One hand slides down my back, palm skimming my waist before settling on my hips. He pulls me flush against him and I gasp into the kiss, my head spinning from the contact. Every place we touch feels electric, charged, like a live wire.
I feel lightheaded, untethered. I let myself get swept away, drifting out to sea on the drugging taste of Graham Carter’s lust.
When he pulls back, it’s only far enough to press his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling in the scant space between our lips. My eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused as they meet his.
Graham’s fingers flex against my hips, his grip tightening reflexively like he’s trying to ground himself. “Francesca,” he murmurs, my name a gravelly rumble in his chest.
God, I could get addicted to the way he says my name.
I swallow, trying to steady my breath. “Graham.”
His eyes search mine, dark and heated, pupils blown. His fingers flex against my jaw, like he’s debating something. Like he wants to pull me back in and kiss me all over again. But then, after a long moment, he exhales sharply.
“Until next time.” He steps back.
“Tuesday,” I murmur with a small nod. I feel the loss of his warmth immediately, the air between us crackling with the newfound knowledge of that kiss.
My lips still tingle from his kiss, my pulse thrumming in my throat as I watch him. He doesn’t move right away, doesn’t turn and walk off like I expect him to. Instead, he holds my gaze, his hazel eyes dark and unreadable in the dimming light.
Then, low and firm, he murmurs, “Go inside, Francesca.”
A shiver rolls down my spine. My fingers tighten around Romeo’s leash, but my feet don’t move. Not until he tilts his chin at the door, a silent command.
I swallow hard and nod, stepping backward toward the entrance. He doesn’t look away. Not until I push the door open, step inside, and let it click shut behind me.
Only then does he nod once, turn on his heel, and disappear into the night.
I press a shaky hand to my lips, breath still uneven.
How the hell am I supposed to wait an entire week?