“Hey, darlin’,” Graham greeted her in his lazy drawl. He sounded sleepy, which was to be expected. They hadn’t come back from their picnic until almost dawn. “Tell me you’re coming to save me from the masses.”
“Technically, I’m part of the masses. This is nuts, Graham.”
“You’re outside?”
“And way back in line. I was just coming by to say hi, but…” Zoey looked at the line, already shifting and grumbling to themselves. “They seem to be an aggressive group today. Might not be the best idea to get in the way of these people.”
“Just cut the line. I’m at the door.”
Easier said than done. With every “excuse me,” “sorry,” and promise she wasn’t actually cutting line, the looks grew meaner. When she reached the front of the line, Zoey found a man with legs braced outward glaring her down with the determination of one who wanted lunch and would be getting it. The door swung open, and in that moment, Zoey worried as much for Graham’s safety as she worried for her own. She was already regretting this idea.
“Just her,” Graham told the crowd in a deep, authoritative voice. “We open at eleven. Back off, man.”
Graham stepped forward, his sheer size and hard frown forcing the belligerent crowd to give way. Zoey squeezed in the space between his rib cage and the door, grateful for his bulk between her and the angry muttering accompanying her entrance.
“Wow. I knew your place was popular, but this is ridiculous.”
“That’s what I keep saying.” Turning the dead bolt on the front door, Graham pulled a shade down so they were out of view of prying eyes. Then he turned, leaning a shoulder against the door, arms folded over his chest.
“Hey.” One single word and those warm eyes sliding over her was all it took to roll a shiver of anticipation down Zoey’s spine. “What’s the plan today?”
That was a normal question. There was no reason to feel like this, except for the fact Graham was standing close, voice lowered and attention completely on her.
“I didn’t plan anything. Today was supposed to be an unscheduled spontaneous adventure day.”
“Tell me you have unscheduled spontaneity written in your planner.”
“Maybe…probably.”
Graham was extremely handsome, but somehow just standing there, gazing down at her, reaching over and tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, he was the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Momentarily overwhelmed, Zoey took a step back, retreating to the safety of somewhere not within arm’s reach.
Just because they’d kissed the night before didn’t mean Graham wanted her to launch herself at him in the middle of the morning with a mass of hangry customers outside.
It wasn’t so much like being hunted as there was an invisible rope between them. Zoey moving back meant he was going to follow. And she was fairly certain if he had gone a different direction, she would be following him. When Zoey’s hips bumped the table, it occurred to her that she may have deliberately lured him somewhere she could shove him down and have her way with him.
This morning was becoming increasingly confusing.
“What do I owe the pleasure of your company, darlin’?”
“I wanted to make out with you.”
Had that actually slipped out? Zoey tried to cover her slip-up with a laugh. What came out was a strained little squeak.
“You didn’t mean to say that.” Graham shifted in closer, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw with the lightest touch.
“Nope. I think. I have no idea. I accidentally probably meant to say it.”
A smile curved his lips, a softer, far sexier smile than she had ever seen him give. Graham’s eyes searched hers, his voice low and husky. “If you did mean it, you should know I’ve been thinking the same thing since last night.”
Did she mean it? “Umm, I actually had a legitimate reason for bothering you at work…I think.”
Warm breath brushed the rim of her ear. “Trust me. You are all the excuse I need to be bothered at work.”
Oh, screw it.
Graham was a lot taller than she was, but when she pulled him down to her, the height difference wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d expected. Especially when Graham wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her up to her toes.
Last night had been soft, sweet, the slow burn kind of kiss that had made her heart flutter and her defenses weaken. This kiss burned her alive.
Twisting in place, Graham sat back on the edge of the booth’s bench, hauling her into his lap.
“We still good?” he asked, placing warm, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.
“As long as you stop talking,” Zoey promised.
His voice softened, emotions she couldn’t read flickering across his features. “Whatever you want, gorgeous.” He gazed down at her, eyes flickering from her own, then down to her lips. Shivering in anticipation, she leaned in, but still Graham held back, his mouth centimeters from hers.
As if counting. Deciding. One. Two.
With a groan, he kissed her before she reached three.
Keeping her hands off him was impossible. Every inch of his neck, his chest, his arms was wrapped in rock hard muscle, softened only by the worn white T-shirt between them. He smelled like bread, because he always smelled like bread, but also of shampoo and deodorant. Every time her palms slid over his chest, down his stomach, across his sides, the muscles beneath her hands would flex as if subconsciously trying to impress her. But when her fingernails dug into his shoulders, that strong body shivered beneath her hands, pressing into her touch.
Even as desire tried to wipe out every coherent thought from her, it occurred to Zoey maybe Graham was as starved for human contact as she was.
“This is a lot better way to start my day than coffee,” Graham murmured. Unlike her wandering hands, his had stayed firmly glued to her hips, but his eyes were drinking her in.
Zoey knew it the instant Graham’s control cracked, because it was the instant after her own did. Moaning in appreciation of his hard body against hers, Zoey wrapped her arms around his neck, plastering herself all over him. With a jerk of his hands, he hauled her tight to him, mouth slanting over hers. That slow burn between them flaring hotter with every breath they couldn’t catch.
A bang on the door jolted her back to the present, causing her to jerk in his arms.
“Shh,” he murmured when she started to turn around. “Ignore them.”
“It’s past eleven. They’re breaking down the door.”
“You’re breaking me.” He carefully pushed her glasses back in place on her nose. “Two more minutes.”