Loving Graham Page 11

  He releases one of my hands to cup my cheek. “No, you didn’t hurt me. My God, that was amazing. I’m fine, more than fine. I’m in awe.”

  I wrinkle my forehead and look at him confused. “In awe? Of what?”

  “Of you, of us, of what just happened. Sex has never been that, that intense for me before. I’ve had my fair share of partners, but none of them made my heart explode into a million pieces of shrapnel like you just did.”

  “But, that’s a good thing?”

  He scoots closer to me and hooks his leg over mine using it to pull me closer to him. “Yes, it’s an awesome thing, like, the best thing ever but…”

  God, I hate phrases spoken in intimate moments that end with but. “But what?”

  “Did you feel it? Was it different for you? And please be honest, always be honest with me, Levi, I need that.”

  “I will always be honest with you. It was different, so different it scares me.”

  He’s been fiddling with the hair on my chest, but this brings his eyes back to mine. “Scares you? Why?”

  “I haven’t had the best luck with men. In fact, you’re the first man I’ve been with in years.”

  “Years? Like, how many years?”

  “Three,” I answer, and he is quiet while he looks at me.

  “Three since you’ve had a serious relationship or three since you’ve had sex?”

  This is getting embarrassing. I wish I hadn’t said anything now. “Not that it matters either way, I’m just curious.”

  “Both.”

  “Both. Is there a story behind that you want to talk about?”

  “There’s a story, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. Maybe some other time?”

  “Yeah, sure, I’m not trying to be nosy. Whenever you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Our eyes lock, and I see doubt there, the same kind of doubt I imagine he must see in mine. We may have just had mind-blowing sex, but relationships are more than sex, so much more. If my past is any indicator of my future, this won’t last. The fire will burn hot for a while, and when he discovers I’m not exciting or interesting enough, his eyes will wander to someone else.

  I wish it weren’t true. I wish Graham would be the one to prove my theory wrong, but he’s just too beautiful, too talented and creative, and too goddamn perfect to want to settle down with somebody like me.

  If I were smart, I’d walk away right now and protect my heart, but my need for him is too powerful. I’m already in too deep.

  Chapter Twelve

  Graham

  The next morning, Levi and I get up and shower with plans to do some sightseeing while we wait to hear from the rehab center about Jorge’s condition. Normally, a rehab center cuts all ties with family and friends once the patient is admitted, but when the patient is the owner’s friend and employee, they make certain exceptions.

  I opened Saint Stone Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Center two years ago when a friend of mine couldn’t afford treatment. She didn’t have insurance, and I knew she didn’t have much time to live if somebody didn’t take her in, so I paid for her stay at a local center.

  She made it through, and she’s still clean, but the facility left a lot to be desired, so I started my own with the help of an old friend and ex-boyfriend, Eduardo. Ed was a doctor in South America who was working to get his license to practice in the U.S. when we joined forces. He has since begun practicing here and handles all of the cases at Saint Stone.

  “Have you ever been to Seattle?” I ask Levi watching him fold his dirty clothes from yesterday and repack them on one side of his suitcase. I’m standing next to my suitcase, and I flip the lid shut so he won’t see my wadded up clothes.

  “Yes, once for work, but we didn’t do anything fun. I was here on a case interviewing a suspect in a murder case.”

  I frown. Sometimes I forget the horror he deals with on a daily basis. I don’t know how he works a job like that.

  “Well, there will be no murder suspects on this trip, just space needles, eclectic shops, and great food.”

  “How far is Forks from here?”

  “Forks? What’s that?”

  “Forks, you know where the Cullen family live… Bella, Edward, Carlisle?”

  I fold my arms across my chest and smile. “Like, Twilight?”

  “Yes, of course. Visiting Forks, Washington, is on my bucket list. I love those books.”

  “Oh my God, I’m dating a Twihard fan,” I groan, and he straightens up placing his hands on his hips.

  “You have a problem with that?”

  “No, no,” I chuckle. “How about Harry Potter? You into that story, too?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, but Twilight is better. I like the love story part of Twilight. If Harry Potter had had an epic love triangle, it would have been much better.”

  “Maybe. How about Lord of the Rings?”

  “Love it.”

  “Mortal Instruments?”

  “Love, love.”

  I laugh. I’m surprised at his adorable affliction for teen literature. “What else do you read?”

  “Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and James Patterson, of course. I am a cop after all.”

  I reach out and take hold of his shirt and pull him flush against me. “You, sir, have very diverse taste in books.” I press a soft kiss to his full lips and resist the urge to rip off his clothes and spend the day in bed together. When I pull away, I know from the glazed look in his eyes that he would probably be down for a day in as well, but I’m here to help Jorge, not for a romantic weekend getaway.

  “We should go,” I whisper.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you hungry? We can stop on the way and grab breakfast,” I say abruptly bringing us back from the edge of abandon.

  “Yes, starving.”

  We eat in the hotel restaurant downstairs and drive to Saint Stone. Inside, he sits behind me in the waiting room while I ask about Jorge at the reception desk.

  “Hi…” I narrow my eyes to see the name of the unfamiliar receptionist. “… Judy. I need to speak to Dr. Torres please.”

  “May I ask what this is concerning?” Judy asks.

  “Yeah, I dropped Jorge Hernandez off yesterday, and I just wanted to check on him and make sure he’s doing all right.”

  “Oh no, sir, I’m sorry, but if you left him, I’m sure you were given the list of rules. No contact of any kind for the first fourteen days.” Judy is new here, she doesn’t know I am the owner, and she is doing what she is supposed to do so I feel like an ass pulling rank on her.

  “If you could just please tell Dr. Torres that Graham is here to see him…”

  “What’s going on?” Alissa, the blonde bombshell of a receptionist who is usually working the front desk, says as she rounds the corner holding a cup of steaming hot coffee. “Mr. Blackwell, it’s so good to see you. It’s been a long time since you’ve graced us with your presence. What can I do for you?”

  “I was just reminding him of the visitation rules. He wants to speak to Dr. Torres about Jorge Hernandez.”

  Alissa’s mouth drops open, and I smile at her. “Judy, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Graham Blackwell, the owner of Saint Stone Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Center. Mr. Blackwell, this is our new part-time receptionist, Judy.”

  Judy looks appalled. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Blackwell. I didn’t know. I’ve never seen your picture, I…”

  I reach over the desk and cover Judy’s pudgy, soft hand with mine. “It’s fine, you did what you were supposed to do under the circumstances, and please stop calling me Mr. Blackwell, both of you. It’s Graham, just Graham.”

  I hear Levi cough behind me, and I turn to find him looking at me with raised eyebrows and an expectant expression. He mouths the words the owner and shakes his head in disbelief.

  “Sorry, yeah, I forgot to mention, I own this place.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head smiling. I turn back to the wom
en and find Eduardo Torres standing behind them.

  “Graham, I’m glad you stopped by. I will buzz you through to my office. We need to talk for a minute, yes?” he says with his thick Spanish accent.

  “Yes, is everything okay?” The way he asked has me worried.

  He glances over my shoulder at Levi and back at me. “We should speak alone.” The door buzzes and a mini-wave of nausea hits me. Something is wrong. Eduardo has never wanted to talk to me privately about anyone I’ve brought in before.

  In Eduardo’s familiar office, I take a seat on the couch in the sitting area of the room. Eduardo sits in a recliner and crosses his legs. He’s wearing a long, crisp white coat with his name embroidered above the breast pocket over dark jeans and a pink button-up polo shirt. He tries to keep his appearance casual for the patients, but he doesn’t know what casual means. This preppy pressed and creased outfit is as close to casual as he gets.

  “Is he okay? You kinda got me worried, Ed.”

  “He’s in bad shape, I will not lie, but I can help him. He wants to get better, and that is half the battle.”

  “Then why the face?” I say pointing at his furrowed brow and straight lips.

  “First of all, I want you to know I have asked Jorge’s permission to speak freely about his condition with you, and he agreed that it is best.”

  “Okay, sure, get on with it, will ya?”

  “How close are you two?”

  “He works for me, and we’re friends, why?”

  “You have not had sex with him?”

  I jerk my head back and frown. “No, you know I don’t get involved with my employees.”

  His shoulders drop, and he looks relieved. “Good, good.”

  “Ed, what’s up? Why are you acting all cryptic?”

  “Jorge’s blood work results came in this morning… he is HIV positive.”

  “Oh God,” I say dropping my head back against the couch. Shit, I bring him in here to kick a drug addiction, and he finds out he’s HIV positive. Wait, did you tell him?” I ask lifting my head up. It seems like telling him this news when he is at his lowest might not be conducive to recovery.

  “No. He needs to take things one step at a time and right now the physical withdrawal is taking its toll on him. It’s good you brought him to us when you did, he is very sick.”

  “When then? When will you tell him?”

  “When he’s stronger, and the drugs are out of his system. I only told you because I still care for you, Graham. I was sick with worry.”

  “You thought I brought my boyfriend in for treatment?”

  He hangs his head and crosses his bronze hands in his lap. “Yes.”

  Eduardo and I were good together, but my past addiction was too much for him to handle. He worried, no, he obsessed, about me relapsing. He was constantly going through my things looking for evidence. He didn’t like that I was modeling and accused me of doing it for easier access to drugs. Eventually, we broke up but have stayed good friends since.

  “Jorge isn’t my type, Eduardo, you should know that.” I don’t date people I share a weakness with. Eduardo is my type—successful, handsome, smart, family oriented. I’ve always tried to hang with people who have their shit together. Surround yourself with winners, that’s what I learned in rehab.

  He nods. “Is the detective in the lobby your boyfriend?”

  “How do you know he’s a detective?” I ask sitting up on the edge of the couch.

  “He mentioned it when I introduced myself last night.”

  “You introduced yourself? When?”

  “When you were helping the nurses with Jorge.”

  “Why?”

  He bites his lip. “I was interested in knowing.”

  “Knowing what? If he was my boyfriend?”

  “Yes. Of course, you know how protective I am of you.”

  “So you weren’t scoping him out for yourself?”

  He smiles, and his eyes twinkle. “You are jealous. You like this one very much, yes?”

  “You say that like I go through boyfriends like tissues or something.”

  “I know you are not a, how you say?”

  “Manwhore?”

  “Yes, that’s it, a manwhore. I have never seen you jealous, that is all.”

  “We haven’t been seeing each other for long, but yes, I like him a lot.”

  “I am glad you are happy.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot.”

  “We shouldn’t keep your detective lover waiting. I don’t have anything else.”

  I roll my eyes. Eduardo’s romantic use of the word lover always made me cringe. “Don’t call him that to his face, okay?”

  He smirks and looks innocent. “What? Detective lover? Oh no, you haven’t slept together yet? I see, I see. How about your detective man friend then?”

  “Shut up, man, call him Levi, that’s his name.”

  He chuckles, and we both stand up. Eduardo pulls me into a too long hug followed by a circular back rub. “I miss you, beautiful boy.”

  “Ed,” I say with a warning in my tone.

  “I know, I know. Go to your new man, be happy, be in love, leave poor Eduardo all alone.” He pokes out his bottom lip in a fake pout.

  “Stop.”

  “I’m kidding. Go. I will keep you updated on Jorge. He is in good hands, you know that.”

  “Thanks, Ed, I appreciate you breaking the rules to let me know he’s okay.”

  “Well, it is your clinic. I can’t say no to the boss.”

  “It’s your clinic. I own it, but you are the heart of Saint Stone. We’re leaving tomorrow, but you have my number, call anytime.”

  “I will.”

  He walks me back to the lobby where Levi is standing at the window watching the rainfall outside. It was sunny when we got here, but the sun never lasts long in Seattle. I touch his shoulder, and he automatically leans his head to that side and touches his cheek to my hand.

  “You were involved, weren’t you?” he asks without turning around.

  “What?” I take my hand away and move to stand next to him leaning my shoulder against the window.

  “The good doctor, he was your boyfriend?” He’s still gazing out into the rain-soaked forest surrounding the clinic.

  “Yes, for a while he was. Does that bother you?”

  “No, yes, I don’t know.”

  I push off the window and reach out to slide my hand behind his neck and pull him close so that I can kiss him. I pull away when I feel him relax into me. “There is nothing to worry about. Eduardo and I dated, he obsessed about me relapsing, and we broke up. That’s it. We stayed friends because of the clinic. He’s a great doctor, and I didn’t want anyone else running this place.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “I may not owe you one, but there it is.”

  “Thank you. Is everything okay with Jorge?”

  “He’s got a long road ahead of him.”

  Levi nods.

  “Let’s go do something fun. No more gloom and doom for today,” I say.

  “No more gloom and doom,” he agrees.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Levi

  Graham—sexy model, creative stylist, and now the owner of a drug and alcohol rehab clinic—and I spend the day exploring Seattle. We start in the beautiful Pike Place Market where I learn that Graham loves to collect memorabilia. I bet we have ten tshirts, five key chains, countless refrigerator magnets, and several coffee mugs that say Seattle, Washington on them before we leave. We laughed and joked around, pet dogs, ate fruit, looked at gorgeous art, and if he had an inch of un-tattooed skin, I have no doubt he would have gotten a new tattoo. It was all I could do to keep him from talking me into one.

  After that, we headed to the Space Needle where we bought more souvenir junk in the gift shop and ate lunch at Sky City. I wasn’t hungry, but he insisted that I would be missing out on the best tourist attraction ever if I didn’t eat at the top of the needle w
ith him. He was right, the food was amazing.

  “So, do you want to go and see the gum wall or are you done with sightseeing?”

  “Are you kidding? I was beat hours ago,” I say following him through the parking lot to the rental car.

  “Why didn’t you say something? We could have gone back to the hotel.”

  I stop and cock my head to the side. “Was ‘I’m dead on my feet and not in the least bit hungry for lunch’ not a big enough hint for you?”

  “You said that?”

  I chuckle and begin walking again. “Yes, twice I believe, but that’s okay. I had no idea I was dealing with a master tourist. Next time we go somewhere, I’ll make sure to wear tennis shoes and bring a survival backpack.” I glance out of the corner of my eye at him walking next to me.

  “I’m that bad?”

  “I wouldn’t say you’re bad. You’re resilient and enthusiastic and a little endearing.”

  “Well, from now on when I’m too resilient and enthusiastic and a little endearing, you need to use your cop authority with me and tell me you need to rest.”

  “My cop authority?”

  “Yeah like, Stop, put your hands up and turn around.”

  I’m laughing. “And then what?”

  “Then I will stop and turn around with my hands up, and you will have my full attention. That’s when you tell me Hey, dude, I need a nap.”

  “Okay, but I’m not pulling my gun on you.”

  He frowns and pokes out his bottom lip in a pout. “But I might want you to pull your gun on me,” he says glancing down at my cock when we reach the car.

  “Ah, that gun. Well, in that case, I might make an exception.”

  “You have real handcuffs, don’t you?”

  “Uh, yeah, I don’t use them much anymore since I made detective, but I have them. Why? You want me to cuff you to the bed and take advantage of you?”

  He wiggles his eyebrows up and down and gets into the car. I follow him in with kinky visions of Graham handcuffed to the bed, a major hard-on, and no desire to take a nap anymore.

  We have been on the road for ten minutes when he breaks the silence and yanks me out of the fantasy I started imagining when he mentioned handcuffs.

  “We go home in the morning, right?” I forgot to give him a flight itinerary yesterday. We were in a rush to get here, and it slipped my mind.