23. Rosay
Chapter twenty-three
Rosay
C leanup of the banquet area goes quickly, as does the actual rehearsal portion.
Although Winnie keeps changing things—as is her right as the bride and wedding planner—to fit whatever idea she has in her mind.
Graham walked me down the aisle twice, then she had me walk down alone, then once with Waverly to see what she liked best. She even had me walk down with Dad, a weird option, but like I said, it’s her wedding, not mine.
With everyone gone, we retreat up to the house for some relaxation. Graham chats with Kieran and Jordan on the walk while I stay back, observing how he well he meshes into the family.
Dad wraps his arm around me and plants a kiss on my head. "I'm glad we got this time together, mija. I don't see you enough."
"I know, Papa. It's been…nice." I curl into his side. "I'll try to make it up more often."
"I hope so. And bring Graham with you." He bumps my shoulder. "I need someone to take your brother down a peg or two every once in a while."
"I heard that, old man," Kieran yells.
Once inside, I collapse into the sofa and pull Graham with me. Winnie heads into the kitchen with Jordan, my dad, and Wendy. Waverly trails in behind us with Kieran hot on her heels, furiously tapping on his phone screen.
"Who want s to play cards?" Kieran asks, shoving the phone into his back pocket.
Cards in the Wilmington family are anything but relaxed. Texas Hold ‘Em, Spades, Canasta, in this household are all played as if we're in a tournament with a million dollars on the line.
"I'm down for cards," Graham says. He shifts behind me on the couch, and I sink into the cushion, grumbling at my brother. "Want to play, Pinky?”
"She's not allowed to play," Waverly says with a laugh.
Graham arches a brow as he looks down at me still on the seat, ignoring his proffered hand. “Why's that?"
"She can count cards," Winnie yells from the kitchen. "Robbed us of our allowance for years before we realized her math brain gave her an advantage."
Graham laughs, loudly. "Woman, you surprise me every day."
I shrug. "I can't help it. I have superior math skills."
"Cheating is the correct term. You have superior cheating skills," Waverly replies.
Thinking of my math skills reminds me I should check in on my tutoring students to make sure I've sent all of their worksheets. "I'm going to head back to the rental to answer emails and dye my hair."
"On second thought," Graham says. "I'll tag along and finish up some work I left undone earlier."
"Smart man," my dad says, chuckling at Kieran's huff. He, like me, knows Kieran is extremely competitive and doesn't like to lose.
"You're running because you know I'd beat you," Kieran says, shuffling the deck and dealing cards to Winnie and Waverly.
Anticipation follows us the entire way to the rental, and we're barely in the door before we're on each other.
"Time to finish what we started earlier," he says, pressing me against the door and peppering my neck with hot kisses. I moan as his teeth graze my skin, nipping and soothing the pain with his tongue.
"Bedroom," I say between kisses, pushing him toward the stairs.
Like children with a new game, we hurry upstairs, our feet thumping against the wood on our ascent. The bag of dye hangs from my arm, swishing along with my steps. Up on the landing, Graham unwraps it from my wrist and takes out the dye.
"First things first." He walks into the bathroom, and I follow quickly on his heels, hoping he's just putting it down on the counter. "Get undressed."
Like magic, my clothes disappear, leaving me in my bra and underwear. Why take the fun out of letting him unwrap me? He watches me in the mirror, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. "You're so fucking beautiful."
My nipples pebble at the hoarse tone to his voice. He places the vanity chair in front of me then rips the box open and hands me a towel. "Sit."
I arch a brow at him, confused as to why we've paused what was happening in favor of dyeing my hair.
Graham ignores me as he reads over the instructions then opens the contents of the box, emptying them into the provided bowl.
His forearms flex as he stirs, tattoos rippling along his skin, and I pin my legs together, stemming the rise of arousal the image brings.
"I could've done that later," I say, crossing and uncrossing my legs as I sit on the chair.
"I want you," he says, pinning me with a hard stare. "The real you."
Emotion has my throat in its clutches, and all I can do is nod and wait for the shame to rise, but it doesn’t. Graham sees me, every part I try to hide behind pink hair and snarky comments.
"Plus, I' m over here edging myself just watching you squirm in those lace panties and bra that I can see right through."
With gentle, gloved hands, Graham works the pink dye into my hair, rubbing it in with efficient fingers to ensure he doesn't miss any pieces.
While we wait for the dye to take root, I check in with Kieran on whether or not he was able to do what I asked of him, and also check on my tutoring clients.
Graham calls his dad and tells me about two clients he's been emailing back and forth with.
There's this weird yet peaceful anticipation in the air knowing that once the timer goes off and I can wash the dye out of my hair, our domestic bliss will shatter, and we'll be all over each other again. Instead of looking toward that, I settle into the moment.
“Do you like to hike?” I ask.
He looks up from his phone. “I like all things physical.”
I bite the side of my cheek and playfully glare at him.
“Yes, I like to hike,” he says. “I take a group of young men from the community center hiking once a month.”
“Are those the kids you were playing basketball with?” I ask, recalling the moment I told him I was down for this fake engagement.
He nods.
“How long have you been doing that?”
“Since I graduated college.” He shrugs. “Figured it was all I could do to pay back the people who gave me a place to hang on the days Dad worked late.”
Imagining a young Graham with nowhere to go, no one to greet him when he walked through the door, makes my chest tight. I never want him to feel like he’s alone again, that there won’t be someone—me—patiently waiting for him to return whenever he leaves .
“I’d love to take you to my favorite spot one day,” I say, gnawing on my bottom lip. We’re in unfamiliar territory, yet I’m over here trying to steal more time in the future with him. “I mean, if you’d want to see it.”
He pulls my lip down with his thumb, caressing the smooth surface. “I’ll go anywhere with you, Pinky.”
I’ll go anywhere with you. It’s a struggle not to let a smile take over my face, so I nip at his finger and murmur, “Might just toss you off Enchanted Rock.”
His dark chuckle makes my stomach flutter. I hold my breath as I watch the timer tick down and breathe a sigh of relief once it goes off. Flipping on the shower, I let the hot water steam the room while I grab new undergarments. Graham follows me into the bathroom and sheds his clothes.
"Mind if I join?" he asks.
I don't hide my hungry gaze as it takes in his gorgeous form, the hard planes of his chest that give way to chiseled abs and a deep V that plunges, highlighting the pierced cock that stands at attention.
"Not at all." He steps inside then spins us so I'm in the water, pink rivulets sluicing down my body. He tilts my head back and water rushes over my face as his fingers tangle in my hair, washing out the dye. "You didn’t have to do this."
Graham kisses my pulse point, pulling me closer to him as his hands slide around my back and grab my ass. Our lips are wet and slippery as they slide against each other, and before I have a chance to deepen the kiss, he pulls back and reaches for a bottle.
"Is this the shampoo you use?" He squeezes the liquid into his hands and sniffs it. "I love this scent."
"Pina Colada," I say.
He works it into a lather then massages it into my scalp. I groan at the pressure of his fingertips, the firm pads kneading my head and neck. "That feels so good."
A pluck of my nipple makes me whine, and Graham chuckles as he washes the suds from my hair with one hand while the other strums the peaked bud, working me into a frenzy.
My hand finds his hard cock, and I tug on it, relishing his sharp inhale and the rumble that comes from his chest. He pumps twice in my hand and then backs away, shivering as he removes my fingers from his length.
"When I blow my load, I want to see it dripping out of you, not going down the shower drain. "
If I wasn't already wet, in more ways than one, I would be with that statement. He grabs the conditioner and squirts it into his hand, then repeats the same process of working it into my tresses. This entire time he's managed to not let me see how the color actually turned out.
"Let that sit for a few minutes," he says as if I've never washed my own hair before.
I grab one of the new washcloths Winnie placed in the shower for us and steal Graham's body wash. "My turn."
He watches me, rapt as I work the suds into a lather and begin washing him.
His chest is smooth beneath my hand, heartbeat in time with mine.
Once his front is finished, he turns so I can get his back.
Something compels me to wrap my arms around him.
"Thank you for doing this," I say into his shoulder.
He squeezes my hands. "No, thank you for letting me be there for you. And for being here for me."
We don't speak another word until he's clean and has my washcloth in his hands, ready to return the gesture. He starts by swirling the soap onto my heavy breasts, stroking the firm bud with his thumb. He gives it just enough attention before moving to my arms, back, and then legs.
"Hands on the wall," he barks out.