“I’ve slept worse places. Trust me.”
“But—”
“Baby, pick your battles.”
With a soft sigh, I let it go. “I need coffee.”
“There should still be some left.” Graham jerked his chin toward the kitchen and started herding me in that direction. “Made it when I woke up. ‘Course, that was about five hours ago, so you might want to brew a fresh pot.”
He was teasing me, his tone light and warm in a way I’d never heard before. I scowled playfully at him as I stomped to the cupboards, yanked down a mug, and fixed myself a steaming cup with a dollop of milk.
Graham went the sink to wash off the gooey residue. As soon as he’d dried his hands, he came straight to me. Grabbing the coffee mug right out of my hand, he set it aside and lifted me up onto the kitchen island. I gasped in surprise as he moved between my thighs and pulled me up against him, full frontal. His lips hit mine, giving me the sort of all-consuming kiss I was coming to expect from Graham, the kind that held nothing back and demanded I do the same in return.
“There,” he said, voice rough but satisfied when he finally broke away. “That’s a real good morning kiss.”
He could say that again. I was plastered to his front, panting hard, unable to form words. His lips moved to my neck, nuzzling as his hands moved under my shirt to caress the small of my back.
“You look good in my clothes, babe.”
“Mmm?”
“Better out of them,” he added, dragging his lips along my jawline. Things were just starting to heat up when I heard the dreaded buzz of his cellphone in his back pocket. He backed away with a reluctant sigh, leaning against the counter across from me as he fished out his phone and scowled down at the screen.
“Better be good,” he thundered lowly as soon as he had it at his ear. His eyes roved over my bare legs as he listened to whatever the person on the other line was saying. I used the momentary time-out to sip my coffee and let my eyes do some roving of their own, trying to wrap my head around the fact that Graham Graves was barefoot and shirtless in my kitchen on a Monday morning. No matter how hard I tried, it was difficult to convince myself I hadn’t stepped into an alternate universe overnight.
“No,” Graham said into the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, I want you to wait for me. I’ll be there in a half hour.” He paused. “Because I’m your boss. You don’t get free rein to run shit without my go-ahead just because we share a gene pool.”
My brows arched up toward my forehead. Was he talking to one the twins?
“Holden, I can’t make this any clearer,” he said, confirming my suspicions. “I don’t give a fuck that you and Hunter are chomping at the bit. You can wait until I get there. Warning you now, you don’t wait, there’ll be repercussions. How do you feel about desk duty in the surveillance room every night for the next month?” He paused again. “Yeah. Thought so. See you in thirty.”
Disconnecting the call, he immediately moved back to me. His hands came up to cup my face and his lips brushed over mine, featherlight.
“Sorry, gorgeous. Gotta go. Can I use your shower?”
“Of course. Use the master, off my bedroom.” The downstairs bathroom wasn’t renovated, its hardware old and in need of replacing, its tile walls cracked and dated. I paused, not wanting to pry but deeply curious. “Everything okay at work?”
He nodded, but I couldn’t help wondering if he was telling the truth. His expression was serious, his eyes were alert. “Nothing we can’t handle, nothing we weren’t expecting. We have…” He hesitated a beat. “Someone in custody in the holding room at Gravewatch. I need to get over there before my twin brothers go off half-cocked and do something that’ll piss me off.”
“Do they usually go off half-cocked?”
“Let’s just say, Hunter and Holden aren’t known for their delicate touch. They’re both twice as smart as me but about half as patient.”
This, I found hard to believe.
Graham must’ve seen the doubtful look on my face, because his lips twitched. “You think I’m hot-headed and high-handed? Be grateful you haven’t met the twins yet.”
Yet.
Those three little letters sent a nervous, happy flutter through my stomach.
“They’re very good at what they do,” he went on. “They’ve been working for me a while, and they both have a shitload of experience in the field from before they came on board at Gravewatch. I know I should back off. Still, no matter how good they are… I spent years watching them do stupid teenage shit. Past fuck ups carry weight against present potential, whether they like it or not.” He paused and an undeniable thread of pride wound into his words. “The stubborn bastards seem to thrive on the challenge of proving me wrong, though.”
I’d never heard Graham talk about his siblings before, not in any sort of depth. Seeing him in big brother mode unleashed another happy, fuzzy flutter in my gut.
“Overprotectiveis in the firstborn job description,” I said softly. “You’re looking out for them.”
“As much as they’ll let me, yeah.” He blew out a breath. “They’re grown men, not teenage hellions anymore. I trust them — they wouldn’t be on my payroll if I didn’t — but that doesn’t mean I don’t call them on their bullshit and keep an eye on them whenever I can. They’ve got some darkness they need to work through. Not pushing them to do it before they’re ready, but not letting them bury it deep, either.”