Chapter 16
16
The moment our lips meet, I fully appreciate the scope of my hunger, and realize how starved I’ve been since I last had a taste of him on his grandmother’s sofa. Or maybe even since that night in London.
His fingertips dig into my waist as he pulls me flush against him. I tug the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss. Time blurs as we explore each other with breathless urgency, until finally he pulls back, reaching one hand forward to tuck a curl behind my ear.
“Beautiful girl,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper. His gaze is reverent as it caresses my features, drinking me in. His lips are already dark and kiss swollen, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so badly in my life. I wrap his tie around my fist, yanking him forward and crushing my mouth against his again.
I groan when he pulls his lips from mine a moment later to drag them down my neck. His tongue traces my collarbone, leaving behind a trail of damp heat. With one hand, he slips the strap of my dress off my right shoulder, planting kisses along the newly bared skin, while his other hand settles on my chest. He palms me through the fabric, and I gasp as his thumb circles my nipple, teasing it into a hard peak.
Kneeling, he kisses another trail down the front of my dress. When he reaches the hem, he lifts the fabric to reveal a sliver of my tattoo peeking through the top of my thong. He looks up at me through hooded lids, silently asking for permission, and I nod.
Pushing the lace aside, he traces his thumb slowly over the design before pressing his lips against it. There’s an unfamiliar emotion simmering in my chest, one that clocks the private intimacy that comes with his acknowledgment of the twinned design branded on our skin. I brush the sentiment away quickly. What’s happening right now is raw animal attraction, nothing more. And after so many weeks of mounting temptation, there’s a delicious satisfaction in finally giving in to it.
“Tell me what you want,” he says thickly, and I look down at him, breathless.
“Everything,” I whisper.
That one word propels him into action. In a single, swift motion, he lifts me up, slamming me against the back of the door. My thighs circle his waist as I press my body against his, feeling the unmistakable shape of his arousal. His fingers twist through my hair as his bruised lips find mine again, and I kiss him hard, sending off sparks of electricity.
Desperate to relieve the throbbing between my legs, I grab one of his hands and slide it between us. Graham follows my lead dutifully, reaching under the fabric of my dress to stroke me over the thin fabric of my underwear. My breath hitches when his fingers dip below the waistband, and he slips one finger inside me.
“You’re already so wet for me,” he says hoarsely. The words tear a guttural moan from my throat, and I drop my head back against the door. His thumb traces small circles over my clit as he slides a second finger inside me, his rhythm growing faster as he pumps in and out.
Pleasure builds in my center, and I feel myself climbing faster and faster toward orgasm. When he bends forward to press his mouth to my chest, capturing one nipple between his teeth through the fabric of my dress, I shatter into a million pieces, my body going limp as I sag against him.
The world has gone blurry and dreamlike. Through the haze, I’m aware of the gentle press of Graham’s lips against my skin. He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and then scoops me up, carrying me over to the sofa on the opposite side of the room and depositing me on the cool, brown leather.
As the room returns to focus, my hunger returns, reminding me how long I’ve been waiting for him. Waiting for us to shatter this tension between us, waiting to feel his body against mine. And now I’m not willing to wait a moment longer.
Graham is standing over me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Reaching forward, I grab him by his belt buckle.
“These need to go,” I say, fumbling to undo the clasp. “Right now.” He hisses as I tug his pants down, and he steps out of them, kicking them to the side. I go for his boxer briefs next, shoving them down his thighs. I pause for a beat as the tattoo comes into view. It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever considered the sight of it a turn-on. He groans when I bend forward to trace it with my tongue.
“Ali, wait,” he says, his voice strained and guttural. “I don’t have…”
“Check my purse.”
He walks back over to the desk chair, fumbling inside my clutch for a moment before extracting a condom.
He raises an eyebrow. “Do you always bring condoms to Bar Mitzvahs?”
I shrug. “Only the ones with an open bar.”
He shakes his head, smirking as he makes his way back toward me.
“As beautiful as that dress is, I’m going to have to ask you to remove it.”
I rise to my feet, slipping a hand behind my back to drag down the zipper. I unhook my bra and pull it all down in one slow movement, until I’m standing in front of him wearing nothing but panties. I straighten as I stare at him, feeling more confident and powerful than I ever have.
A muscle in Graham’s jaw ticks as he surveys me. His eyes are stormy with lust, and I feel a surge of pride at knowing I’m the one who is evoking this response.
“Fuck,” he says, his voice so low I can barely hear it.
He reaches a hand behind my back, pulling me closer, before dropping his head to nuzzle my neck. He brings his other hand to my chest, rolling my nipple between his thumb and index finger.
I drag a hand up his back as he continues his gentle assault, until I can’t take it another moment.
“Please,” I beg. “I need more. I need all of you.”
Graham lets out a low growl before tearing the packet open and rolling it over his length. When he finishes, he turns to me, his expression once again serious.
“Are you sure?” he asks. When I nod in confirmation, he sits down on the sofa, spreading his legs and reaching for me. I drag my panties down, kicking them to the side of the sofa. Gripping his shoulders, I straddle his lap carefully, mindful of my injured knees. Then I lower myself onto him slowly until he’s filled me.
Graham weaves a hand through the back of my hair, drawing me forward to press my forehead against his.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he says on a ragged breath. “How long I’ve wanted you.”
“I’ve wanted you too,” I breathe. And God knows I have. Far more than I’ve cared to admit to myself.
He cups my face, brushing a thumb over my cheekbone before sealing his mouth over mine again. It starts slow and tender before dissolving into a series of short, desperate kisses as I rock my hips against him. We start to move together, finding our rhythm. Our breathing grows ragged as our pace increases, and I bury my face in his shoulder, biting down on his skin as pleasure starts to blur my vision. And then I’m coming, the waves of ecstasy crashing into me with blinding speed.
Graham finishes a few seconds after me. He collapses back against the sofa, pulling me down onto his chest. Our heartbeats slam against each other as we lay there, our bodies tangled, my head resting against the slick skin of his chest. Graham lazily drags his fingertips through my hair. The sensation of it draws goosebumps.
“Damn,” I say, once I’m able to speak again. “You’ve gotten better at this.”
Graham huffs out a hoarse laugh. “Glad I’ve accomplished something in the past decade.”
The mention of a milestone sends me careening back to reality.
“Shoot, the Bar Mitzvah wasn’t over. My sister is going to kill me. And worse, we missed the Torah cake.”
Graham drags a lazy thumb down my spine. “I might regret asking this, but what is a Torah cake?”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. A cake in the shape of a Torah. And Sarah picked white chocolate cake with raspberry filling, aka the ideal flavor combo.”
Graham laughs softly, his warm breath tickling the top of my head. “Anything I can do to make it up to you?”
I lift my head, propping my chin on my hands with a grin. “Oh, I think something can be arranged.”
I’m unceremoniously roused from sleep by the sound of my dresser drawers opening and closing. Dragging one eye open, I see Liam Payne staring back at me. No wait, not Liam Payne. His life-sized cardboard likeness, in all his sideswept-hair glory. I’m back in my childhood bedroom and I am not alone. The unsubtle shuffling continues.
“What are you doing?” I groan.
“Tidying up,” Sarah says. “I’ve already spruced up the bathroom. You made a real mess in there.”
“Tell me you didn’t do that thing where you put all the smaller boxes inside one larger box? You know that really creeps me out.”
Sarah perches herself on the foot of my bed, and I drag myself up into a sitting position. We are, as always, a study in contrast. She’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, dressed in a matching lavender Lululemon set and clutching a green juice. I, on the other hand, am a hungover mess, dressed in a faded Camp Ramah T-shirt and—I glance under the sheet to confirm my suspicions—no pants. And I don’t need a mirror to know what my hair looks like.
“What time is it?” I groan, blinking at the clock on my bedside table.
“Nine A.M. ,” she says. “I’ve already had a full morning. I took a ride on the Peloton, did a load of laundry—”
“And now you’re here, mothering me. Shouldn’t you be back at home, doing Kegel exercises or finishing the last of Jackson’s thank-you notes? The party’s been over for a whole ten hours now.”
“Obviously Jackson will write his own letters,” she replies, before mumbling something under her breath about organizing the gifts and addresses for him in an Excel spreadsheet. I have no doubt that it’s color-coded.
I run a tongue over my dry, chapped lips. Sarah hands me a glass of water from the bedside table and I take a long gulp as she gives me a curious once-over.
“I didn’t see you after the candle lighting ceremony,” she ventures after a beat. “Mom says you left with your date and weren’t home when she went to bed.”
“Guess it’s a good thing she had me microchipped,” I deadpan. I bite down on my bottom lip as I realize I missed the end of Jackson’s night. “I’m sorry I left early.”
Sarah waves a nonchalant hand. “It’s fine. The party was basically over anyway.” She grins. “Besides, you looked like you were eager for some alone time with your date.” Ah. So that’s why she’s here. The status of my love life is always a top-shelf priority for my family.
“You want details,” I say, taking another sip of water.
Her smile widens. “Of course I want details. I’ve been with the same man since high school. Do you know how often you get to have sex when you have four kids? The chances of someone walking in on you in the middle of the night are astronomical. Now, spill. I want to live vicariously.”
Scenes from last night flood across my brain. The damp heat of his breath against my neck. The feel of his fingers digging into my bare thighs. The sense of complete ecstasy when he buried himself inside me.
My face heats at the thought of seeing him again. Because you like him, my brain whispers. I swat the thought away quickly. I don’t have feelings for Graham. What we have is raw sexual chemistry. And last night, we finally gave in to it.
Part of me is desperate to tell Sarah the truth. But as much as she loves me, she also loves Asha, and I can’t be certain she wouldn’t spill this secret to her best friend, especially since it involves her. Even if she didn’t tell, it isn’t fair to force her to choose loyalties. The situation is complicated enough; the last thing I need is to bring anyone else into it.
I shove the blankets off me, pushing off the bed, no longer caring that my T-shirt doesn’t quite cover my underwear. I need to get out of here before I say something I’ll regret.
“I’m going to grab some coffee,” I say quickly, as I slide past her. I refuse to make eye contact with Liam on my way out. The last thing I need right now is to be turned on by another member of the United Kingdom.