Page 50 of Until I Found You
Nineteen
Halle
As we pull onto a gravel road on the outskirts of town, I am remembering the conversation Graham had with Mason and Callum on our drive back home from Chicago. Callum had been telling him about the process of building his house before he and Ellie had met.
I had been hesitant to believe he was going to be moving home to Iowa to stay for good. As Graham pulls up the drive leading to his house, I glance out the window taking in the large structure. The combination of dark brick and light wood gives it a rustic farmhouse feel. I bite my lip, using the back of my hand to hide the smile currently taking over my face.
I can feel Graham’s eyes on me, waiting for some sort of reaction. I do my best to give nothing away as he pulls to a stop in front of the garage.
“What do you think?” he asks, reaching forward to put the gear in park, turning the ignition off.
“Wow, Graham,” I say, sitting forward to look out the window. It’s really the best I can come up with in this moment. My eyes are wide, as I peer over at him. “This is your house?”
“It is.” He grins back at me. “Does that mean you like it?”
I want to laugh and for a second, I wonder why it matters if I like it, before I quickly let that go. Clutching the door handle, I pop open the door and climb out of the truck.
The gravel crunches beneath his feet as he walks around the front of the pickup, holding his hand out to me. Wrapping our fingers together, he leads me up the walkway to the front door.
It seriously looks like it’s something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine or off the set of Fixer Upper. I’m kind of amazed for a bachelor pad, he’s put this much thought and effort into his home.
He unlocks and pushes the door open, holding his hand out letting me lead the way.
Stepping one foot into the entryway, I feel like I’m once again struck speechless as I glance over my shoulder to look at Graham.
“Did you decorate this all yourself?”
He laughs, as if he was waiting for me to ask him this.
“I’m glad you like it,” he answers.
Stepping down into the living area, I run my hand along the stone of the fireplace to the light oak mantel that hangs just above my shoulder. My eyes take in the rest of the room, to the dining area with the large table to the off white and black iron kitchen. It’s nice, but the little touches like the box of car parts sitting on the chair in the dining room make it clear there’s still a man living here.
“It’s really nice, Graham. I love it. I bet it’s really peaceful out here too,” I say, walking through the dining room to peer out the sliding glass door overlooking the backyard.
“Yeah, it’s quiet but that’s how I like it.”
He walks up behind me. Even if I couldn’t see his reflection in the window, I could still feel his presence around me. The warmth of this body heat radiates off him and onto my back, as he steps closer.
We’re like two magnets, unable to resist the pull between us. Leaning back, I rest my head against his shoulder. His arms wrap around my middle, pulling me closer to him and for a moment I let everything else fall away. I soak in this moment and let myself enjoy having him here. I let myself think about us together again and maybe one day living together here in this beautiful home.
“It’s so good to have you here,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against my shoulder.
My breath gets caught in my throat at the tingles that spread across my skin feeling his mouth on me again. I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access and the moan that emanates from his chest tells me he appreciates it.
My head rolls across his chest as my fingers dig into his forearms, holding him closer to me. He moves, pressing his body closer, and I can’t help but let a moan escape me, too, when I feel his hard length press against the curve of my ass.
His tongue traces a line from the base of my neck up the column just below my ear. His warm breath against the trail of wetness he left in his wake.
My body quivers beneath his touch, as Graham’s hands slip under the cotton of my tank top, pressing against my stomach.
“You look so fucking beautiful,” he groans, tilting his head up. “Look at you, Halle.”
Opening my eyes, it takes a moment for them to adjust to the light. The light from the kitchen shining behind us makes the darkness that’s now fallen outside the perfect backdrop highlighting our reflection.
His hand slides down, as his fingers brush across the button of my denim jeans. I’m not sure if he’s thinking what I’m thinking, but I want to beg him to keep going.
His fingers dip just below my waistband, touching the lace edge of my panties.
