But I will savor every second of her right now as I bring her down on me.
A sharp intake of breath.
Her wetness.
Her arms around my neck.
Her lips on my jaw.
My hands on her body.
Her taste on my tongue.
She moves on me, and I push up into her, and we engage in a time-honored Manhattan tradition—getting it on in the back of a town car.
Only it hardly feels like getting it on.
It feels like coming together.
Like making love.
Like being as close as I can be to the woman who’s opened my heart.
That’s what she’s done. She’s taught me something so much more vital than what I’ve shown her.
She’s taught me how it feels to fall in love.
Chapter Twenty-Three
CJ
After the past week, I thought I knew what making love felt like. But just now in the car, with Graham’s breath in my lungs and his heart beating in sync with mine and every kiss feeling like a confession that he feels the way I feel . . .
I’ve never been so close.
So deep.
So completely in harmony with another person.
I know he feels it, too.
> At least, I strongly suspect that he does.
I suspect it enough to climb up onto the high dive, wiggle my fingers in the rare air up here, where the wind is wild and full of possibilities, and seriously consider taking a leap into the great unknown.
As soon as Graham closes the door behind us and flips on the lights in his apartment, moving into the kitchen to fetch the mountain of take-out menus from the drawer, I draw a deep breath, turn my courage up to maximum strength, and say, “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents.”
He looks up from rifling through the menus, his brows raised. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Well, my mom died when I was so young, I don’t remember what her relationship with my dad was like.” I keep my tone casual as I wander to the island, crossing my arms on top. “And then Dad married Betty, and that’s a total circus. I mean, I know they care about each other, but he literally does anything my stepmother tells him to do. It’s like he got a lobotomy along with that wedding ring.”
Graham snorts. “Well, Betty is a pretty hot number. Better men than your dad have been sucked into a siren’s sex vibe.”
“Gross.” I make a gagging sound, and Graham laughs.
“Old people do it, too, baby. Or so I hear, when my mom has a few too many hot toddies on Christmas Eve and overshares about her last ski trip with the old man.” He holds up two brightly colored menus. “Thai food from the spicy curry place, or the place with the killer summer rolls?”
“But that’s why I love your parents,” I say, determined not to be swept off course by food, no matter how starved I am. “They still love each other so much, even after all the years and everything they’ve been through. It makes me want to believe that love can last, even though I haven’t seen it up close in my own life.” I swallow, my tongue sweeping out to dampen my dry lips as I inch closer to the edge of that diving board, my heart hammering against my ribs. “What about you? Do you think romance can last forever?”