Inevitable - Kristen Granata Page 0,29

say I’m ready to leave, Graham packs up his things, and we leave.

“That’s good. Again.”

My body tenses and I move toward him.

“Harder, Eva.”

I put more force behind my punch and my fist connects with Graham’s palm, making a loud smacking sound.

“Perfect. You always want to throw your weight into your punches.”

I bounce back and forth on my toes like I’m Muhammed Ali, holding my fists in front of my nose. “What’s next? Teach me something else.”

Graham chuckles. “Well, you have the knee-to-the-balls move down pat. Let’s work on what to do when someone takes you from behind.”

I lift a brow and the corner of my mouth tips up.

“An attacker, Eva.” He shakes his head. “Leave it to you to make this sexy.”

I grin as Graham takes his position behind me.

“If an attacker grabs you like this,” he says, wrapping his arms around my chest, caging my arms inside of his hold, “your first instinct is to panic and struggle against him. But panic overrides the brain, and you can’t think straight. You have to keep your cool, even when you’re scared. It’s the only way you can get out of this.”

“What do I do?”

“Your weapons are your legs and your head. But you want to be careful when you’re headbutting someone because you could knock yourself out. I always opt for a kick to the kneecap or the shin. Hurts like hell and it could loosen his grip on you.”

I swallow, recalling the attack last month. “The assholes who took me carried me by my legs, so I couldn’t use them.”

Graham’s hands slide up and cup my shoulders. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

I twist my neck to look back at him. “If it never happened, I wouldn’t have met you.”

His eyes tighten, anguish stirring inside them like a storm. “It would’ve been better than you getting hurt.”

“I’d relive that night if it led us both here, to this moment.” I reach up to press my palm against his cheek. “I think this is exactly where we’re meant to be.”

Graham dips his head down, eyes closed, and rests his forehead against mine. “You believe in fate?”

“I’m starting to,” I whisper.

“If I wanted to move away, start over somewhere new, would you come with me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

My answer comes quick and resolved. No hesitation. No fear. No uncertainty.

I’d follow wherever Graham goes.

Gripping my jaw in his huge hand, he claims my mouth with an all-consuming kiss.

This kiss isn’t filled with lust or purpose. It’s more than any emotion I’ve ever felt. It’s the only way Graham can convey his sentiment in this moment. Where words fail, action can always express the magnitude of what a person feels. Action is the proof of what’s in your heart.

He might not tell me everything. There might be a bit of mystery surrounding him. I might not have all the answers I want yet. But Graham always shows me how much he cares about me. It’s in the little things: the latte he brings me every morning, even though we pass Starbucks on the way to The Waldorf; the food waiting for me after a long day; the way he listens to everything I say, and understands even the things I don’t say. Most of all, it’s in his kiss, his every touch and caress.

I know in my heart that Graham is falling in love with me too, because I can feel it.

Tell him.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, until a loud growl ruins the moment. Stupid stomach.

Graham’s breath tickles my skin with his soft chuckle. “Let’s go get you some food.”

We head to the kitchen and Graham leans against the counter while I rummage through the fridge.

“I’m no chef like you, but I can make a mean sandwich. Mayo or mustard?”

“Neither.”

“Lettuce, tomatoes, onions, pickles?”

“Yes, no, yes.” Graham points his index finger at me. “And don’t come near me with a pickle if you want to live to see another day.”

My head pops out from behind the refrigerator door. “You have some strong feelings against pickles.”

He wrinkles his nose like a four-year old. “They’re a disgusting disgrace to the cucumber family.”

“Good to know. Next time I want to escape you, I’ll be sure to bring pickles along.”

He glares at me and I wink.

I kick the door closed with my foot and start laying the slices of bread on the island. “Okay, we’ve got turkey, ham, salami, and roast beef. In the cheese department, there’s American, Swiss, and Provolone. But I should