“Come in.” I step aside so Graham can enter my home.

“Hey, Sunshine.” He leans down to kiss me on my cheek, but I step away. His surprised eyes come to mine, and I cross my arms defensively.

“I don’t want you to touch me like that. I couldn’t do anything about it without causing a scene earlier, but I want you to sit on that side of the room.” I point to the small blue winged back chair pressed against the wall under the window.

“Okay.” He nods slowly, but he doesn’t say anything else as he walks to the chair and drops down in it. He sits with legs spread and his hands dangling off the edge of the chair’s arms. He looks like he’s sitting on a throne.

“Where are you sitting?” he asks with raised eyebrows and a cocksure smile that makes me want to slap him.

“Over here.” I walk and sit down on my couch. My apartment is a bigger than average size compared to most, but it feels tiny with Graham here. He fills the room with so much frantic energy. And he looks perfectly at peace. Like the eye of the hurricane, he’s calm while he wreaks mayhem and havoc all around him.

“So, tell me again why you’re here,” I say.

He leans forward. “I told you, I’m starting school. And I have a couple of projects I’m working on.” I try to hide my surprise. That’s the last thing I expected to hear.

“Well, that’s nice. Good for you,” I say with a pleasant smile, that doesn’t reach my eyes.

He laughs. “Don’t give me that half smile, Apollo. You can be real with me.”

I tug on the hem of my black tank top and smooth my hands over my hair self-consciously. Why should I care how I look? It doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m attractive.

He stops laughing, and his expression grows serious. He leans forward, rests his elbow on his thighs, so his hands dangle between his spread legs.

“So, what’s up with what’s his name?”

“Luc—”

“I know his fucking name, Apollo. I just don’t want to say or hear it,” he says stonily.

“He’s my boyfriend, Graham,” I say, wide-eyed at his harsh tone.

“Really?” he grits out.

“Yes,” I say, but my voice quavers.

In a flash, he’s up and walking toward me. My heart jumps into my throat, and I scramble from my couch and hustle into my kitchen.

I grab the first utensil my fingers find from my drawer and hold it in front of me. “I told you to stay over there.”

He stops and raises his eyebrows. “Are you going to stab me with your spatula?” He scoffs but stays where he is—his expression perplexed. “Why are you afraid of me? I’ve never laid a hand on you.”

“Yes, I know,” I say through my gritted jaw. “I remember very well, how you kicked me out of your apartment for daring to lay a hand on you.”

“Apollo, I’m sorry. It wasn’t the right time,” he says softly.

“But, now it is?” I ask sarcastically.

“Yes, well … it has been for a while, but I thought you were happy and settled. I didn’t want to disturb that.”

“Well, what’s changed?”

“I know that I hurt you. I know that a lot of time has passed. But time has done nothing to diminish my feelings for you. I know that when we were a part of each other’s lives, you were happy. You told me that night how you felt about me. What you wanted from me. And I couldn’t give it to you then.”

“But you can now? Is that what you’re going to say next?” I shout, the flashes of pain from that night nearly choking me. I slam the spatula down so hard the handle breaks. His face pales as I stalk toward him. He doesn’t back away but his shoulders tense as I approach.

“You’re waltzing back into my life to tell me that you’re done fucking the world, and you’re breaking up with your girlfriend who everyone is expecting you to propose to because you see a picture of me looking less than happy? Is that right?” I ask, standing toe to toe with him now.

“No, that’s not right.” His jaw is clenched and I know I’ve pissed him off. I don’t care.

“I want to tell you about Amber.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I already know about Amber,” I hiss.

“What do you mean?” He looks surprised and wary.

“I mean, you took her on a third date.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?

“I can’t believe you’re acting like you don’t remember,” I say, my exasperation reaching heights I didn’t even know were possible.

He shrugs, his eyes genuinely confused. “I really have no clue what you mean.”

“Is this the twilight zone? You said the third date means you were going to marry her,” I shout up at him. He blankly stares down at me and then his eyes widen before he bursts out laughing.

I’ve had just about enough of this.

I slip past and walk to my door. “I want you to leave. You’ve done nothing but be cryptic and insulting since you got here. I don’t have room for this shit in my life. Go away, leave me in peace. I’ve been fine for years without you.” I hate how my voice breaks and how my eyes sting. My heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.

I’m just about to open the door when Graham’s hand closes around my wrist. I pull my hand free and whip around to face him. I don’t care that he’ll see my tears.

He sighs sadly and reaches out to brush my cheek. I step away but not before his thumb skims my face. He walks back to the blue chair and sits down again. His posture lacks the confidence from earlier, and he looks nervous.

“I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t. I ask that no matter what the outcome of this conversation is, you don’t repeat it to anyone.” His voice is deep and grave.

Anxiety and confusion twist in my gut, but I nod in agreement and then hold my breath.

“Apollo, that three date thing was just something I made up with my publicist as an answer to the question about my dating life. None of that was real. Nothing I did publicly was real. It was all a persona. An image. A product. I am still the same person. I know what it looks like.” His gaze goes from direct to penetrating, and he says, “Amber and I are not a couple. She’s my beard, and I was hers.”

My jaw drops. And I shake my head to clear it.

“Did you say beard?”

“Yes. I said beard. Not that I’m from Krypton. It’s not exactly unheard of,” he says, his tone defensive.

“What in the world do you need a beard for?” I ask in horror.

He cocks his head to the side and smiles sadly. “Because Apollo, the girl I’d been in love with since I was fourteen was with someone else and I didn’t know how to move on.” My heart stops beating, and for a moment, I just stare at him unable to believe what he just said. “I couldn’t be perpetually single without inviting questions and advances. So, I hired someone to make it look like I had a girlfriend. That’s it. Simple.”

The expression on his face changes. The softness is replaced with heat.

I’ve longed for this for so long. I take a hesitant step toward him, and he stands up.

Oh, God. I’m about to do something stupid. But, I can’t stop myself.

He walks toward me, his eyes intent on my face. When he’s standing in front of me, I put my palms on his chest and feel his sharp intake of breath at the touch, and I look up at his face. I recognize the look on his face. It’s exactly how I feel when he touches me. On fire, out of breath, but relieved at the same time.

With unabashed wonder, I say, “You mean it.”

“With every single fiber of my being.” His eyes burn into me, and I have no hope of resisting the pull between us. His face lowers so that his mouth is just an inch away from mine. His hands rest by his side and I want him to put them on me.

“I’ve been saving something for you,” he says softly. His breath is warm on my mouth, and I part my lips. My pulse is thudding in my ears, but I hear myself ask, “You have?” right before his lips touch mine. It’s just a touch, reverent and tender and it says …

He lifts his lips off mine and breathes. “Can I do that again?”

“Oh, God, please do it again,” I say in between gasps of air.

This time, his lips linger, and when I kiss him back, he groans and drags his lips away. He presses his forehead to mine, his breathing ragged.

“I ache, Apollo. I’m fuckin’ dying.”

His voice is making me ache.

Inside and out.

From the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. I wonder briefly if it’s possible that my legs are dissolving because, standing up suddenly feels impossible.

As if he can read my thoughts, he grasps my waist and holds me fast to him.

His hands. His touch. They are my body’s favorite. It’s been far too long since I’ve felt the addictive pulsing between my thighs that only Graham has ever inspired.

My nipples pucker so fast and tight that it stings.

“Graham, I need … I’m …” I can’t form a coherent sentence.

“Shhh, I know baby,” he whispers before his tongue sweeps my bottom lip. I press myself into him and whimper when I can’t get close enough. His powerful hands cup my ass, and he grinds himself into me.

I lift my leg and hook it around his waist in a desperate attempt to get closer.

“More,” I moan.

“Everything,” he whispers. Then he lifts me off my feet and walks us until my back hits the wall.

He pins me there, both of his hands on either side of my head.

He holds me up with the deliciously warm and heavy weight of his sexy as fuck body and captures my mouth again. It’s messy, greedy, uncoordinated. All of our kisses are like this. Desperate attempts to make up for all of the ones that we should have already shared.

Graham’s lips pull away from mine, and they travel down my chin. I throw my head back, and Graham nips my neck before he sucks it so hard that it stings. And then he works his way down my chest, sucking, biting.

He presses his hand to the space between my breasts and with one swift yank, rips my shirt right down the middle.

“Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about these sweet nipples,” he growls before his mouth closes over one of my aching peaks. The moan that tumbles from my mouth is guttural and comes from an untouched place inside of me. I look down and gasp as waves of pleasure catapult through. The sight of his head at my breast. His eyes closed while he suckles, licks, bites, and kneads my breasts.

His hair skims my collarbones; his fresh, clean scent surrounds me. His mouth is devouring. I feel like I’m being consumed by the collective force of all of our longing and need.

Surely, it can’t be a good thing to feel so much all at once. I haven’t felt this way since …

It’s time for you to leave.

The words that I’d managed to forget now barrel through the thick haze of lust clouding my brain.

No, I can’t do this.

The master of my ruin is ravishing me, and I’m letting him.

Even as I shove at his shoulders to push him away, I writhe against him. “Babe?” He releases my nipple with a pop and looks up at me through those eyes that just make me want to forget everything and give in.

I look down at myself and stare at my still wet pulsing nipple. I want to put his mouth back. I also see the small, already dark bruises his mouth and teeth have left all over my shoulders and chest. The stinging on my neck tells me I’ll find the same thing when I look I the mirror.

“Apollo, what’s wrong?”

“Let me down.” I unhook my legs and shove at his shoulders.

He doesn’t move.

“Please,” I beg. I can’t meet his eyes.

He swears under his breath and steps away from the wall and lets me hop down. I clutch my torn tank top, mortified at how easy that was for him to walk in here and just have his way.

I step around him and run to the kitchen. I pick up one half of the stupid spatula and hold it in front of me.

“Oh, Apollo,” he sighs, his mouth turned down in the corner. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid. I just don’t like it.”

He throws his head back and laughs.

I see red.

“Why are you laughing? You’re ruining my life! Again?” I scream at him. I am wild with frustration and fear. Worst of all, I’m so turned on I want to shove my hand into my panties and finger my pussy until I come.

I want to do it right now. And, I want him to watch.

Oh my God.

What is wrong with me?

He’s turned me into a sex crazed exhibitionist who is ready to abandon every single one of my principles and let him fuck wherever he wants, however he wants.

All in less than four hours.

I don’t want to imagine the rubble I’ll be reduced to if I gave him more time.

“Listen, maybe it’s too late. Maybe it’s time to cut this off for good. I can’t think around you.” I jab a finger at the side of my head in frustration. “And I can’t be one of the girls you see twice and then never again.” I put “twice” in air quotes and glare at him.

His laughter dies.

Amusement morphs into surprise, then surprise settles into indignation.

“What did you say?” His voice is low with warning.

I bristle. “I am not afraid of you. Don’t you dare try to intimidate me, Graham Davis.” I point a finger at him. “I’m just being honest. I deserve better,” I say and cross my hands over my chest to keep from tugging on my hair. It’s my tell. And I’m lying through my teeth. There is no one better than him. But he has a habit of smashing my heart into a million pieces any time I let him near it.

He laughs bitterly. “So, now I’m not good enough for you?” He sneers and takes a small step in my direction. “You’ve known me for fourteen years.” He holds up his massive hand and spreads his fingers—as if I needed the visual aid—and shoves it in my face.

“I know how to count,” I snap.

“Then why the fuck are you acting like you just met me yesterday? Why the fuck are you acting like you don’t know who. The. Fuck. I. AM?” He nearly growls at me.

“Because I don’t. Not anymore. And stop cursing at me. It’s rude.” My pulse is jumping, and I can’t keep up my cool demeanor.

I take a step back and only end up slamming my head against the cabinet beside me. I rub the sore spot and glare at him.

To my abject horror and dismay, my eyes fill with tears. How did I let this happen?

I look at him, my despair on full display. “You shattered me, Graham. Into pieces. You promised me … and then you just changed your mind. I’m afraid because I can’t go through that again.” My choked-out words are a confession bound by a plea for mercy.

His eyes soften before he closes them briefly and swears under his breath. When he opens his eyes again, he avoids my face and looks at the hands that are rubbing my head.

“Let me see.” He moves my hand away from my head with a gentle nudge and strokes the tender spot on my head. His eyes hold mine captive with a look that conveys regret, but also determination. My entire body erupts in gooseflesh.

An involuntary sigh, straight from the center of my Graham-loving heart, floats into the space between us,

“Apollo, I’m so sorry. You believe that, don’t you?” His eyes are questioning, but I don’t have any answers.

“You must know I would never intentionally hurt you. Never,” he insists.

My head and my heart are locked in a battle for supremacy. I have no idea which one will win.

“I don’t know what to do, Graham. I didn’t expect this. What’s changed?” I demand, desperate for him to say something to make this not feel so hard.

“Everything has changed. All those years ago? I couldn’t give you anything but sex. And I wanted us to be so much more. But I couldn’t. Not then.” His eyes plead with me to understand.

I break our eye contact. “Yeah, so you’ve said.”

He tilts my chin with his forefinger, and our eyes meet again. His beseeching eyes are so soft and familiar. I want to fall into them and believe everything I see in them. It would be so easy to just let go.

“Apollo, your heart … it’s more precious to me than anything. I would rather die than hurt you.” He cups my shoulder and slides his warm, calloused hand down my arm. He presses his palm against mine and links our fingers.

“Please, let me prove it to you.” His mouth is only inches away from mine, and his breath floats over my face.

My toes curl.

I want him to kiss me so badly that my lips are tingling.

I have no defenses against Graham. Except for distance.

His eyes are on my mouth. He bites his lower lip and closes his eyes. His hand falls from my face, and he takes a step back.

He crosses his arms over his chest, and there’s a challenge in his eyes as he regards me.

“You love me. I love you. There’s nothing stopping us from being together.”

I groan, exasperated and just plain tired. I need to end this conversation before I lose my conviction. I know what’s right. I know what I need.

“I have someone in my life.” The words sound like a hollow protest. Even to my own ears.

His eyes narrow on me, and he shrugs. “Yeah. You need to take care of that. Quick like.”

With a quick squeeze of my fingers, he releases my hand, turns, and walks toward my front door with not so much as a backward glance.

“Call me when you’re ready,” he calls over his shoulder before he walks through the door and disappears. I stare after him and then stumble to my bedroom. I feel like a cashmere sweater after the spin cycle—wrung dry and ruined.

I collapse on my bed into a heap of exhausted confusion.

What the hell am I going to do?