Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1)

by J. L. Mac

  “Where’d he go?” I asked Matt, not really expecting an answer but needing—needing—to ask anyway.

  “I really don’t know, babe. I’m sure he’s at his place. Maybe it’s time you give him a call. You two can talk things out, I’m sure.”

  “I hurt him, Matt. I know I did and what’s worse is that I wanted to. I wanted to hurt the man I love.” I croaked. “What does that say about me?” I swiped my hands across my cheeks, wiping away tears. “Who does that to someone they know they love?”

  “Maybe you did it because you love him. We don’t hurt the people we don’t love. We don’t care enough to bother. The ones we love? They are the ones that we hurt. As dumb as it is, that’s what people do. He hurt you too. What do you think that says about him?”

  “I don’t think he wanted to. I mean, I hope he didn’t want to—” I wanted to defend his behavior. I wanted to make excuses. The same excuses I’d been trying to convince myself of since we parted ways and my heart broke.

  “Babe, you’re missing the point here,” Matt cut me off, chastising gently, shaking his head. “You want to know what him hurting you says about him? It says he loves you. I know he does. Anyone with eyes in their head can see the way that man looks at you and see that in his eyes, you hung the moon and stars. He screwed up. You screwed up. It doesn’t mean you can’t come back from that.”

  “You think he loves me?” I sniffled.

  “I’m sure. Never been more sure of anything else in my life.”

  “Then why hasn’t he called? Why hasn’t he messaged me online? Why hasn’t he just shown up? Why did he get rid of Tommy’s apartment?” I swiped at my tears angrily, hating that I was angry and heartbroken and crying all at once, but most of all, hating that I hated myself for walking away from the man who held my heart in his hands.

  “I don’t know, babe. And the only man who does know is him.” Matt shrugged helplessly and swiped his thumbs across both my cheeks, wiping away my tears.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, feeling lost and helpless.

  The thing about loving someone is that they are your sponge. Every time you see them, you pour yourself out to them, all your love, all your admiration, all your hopes and dreams, and it’s sugary-sweet and they drink it up, eager to have more.

  They soak in all you offer, every bit of love that you pour out to them. But when they aren’t around, for whatever reason, all that love just kind of seeps out of you and your stuck with it. It grows heavy and makes things feel weighted, immovable. The sticky sweet essence of your offering turns sour and bitter and it spoils all around you. When that happens, you find your sponge, clean up the mess you’ve made, and start over.

  I wanted to clean up the mess I’d made with Graham. I wanted to start over, and I wanted to pour myself out to him in hopes that he’d drink deeply.

  “I think I’ll try… I don’t know what I’ll try. I have to think about it.”

  “That’s my girl.” Matt patted my knee and hugged me tightly. “You get your pretty face together, clear your head and go talk to that man, and even if things don’t go well, at least you’ll know that you tried. Right?”

  “Right.” I sniffled, knowing that peace of mind wasn’t going to keep me warm at night and definitely wouldn’t make my heart hurt any less than it already did.

  The line inched along and though my hand was cramped and tired, I still marveled that I was signing my book—a book that people were buying! It still baffled me and I knew that I’d never tire of this feeling for as long as I lived. I couldn’t believe how quickly my publisher whipped up copies of my book. Once I signed their proposal, things went into overdrive and I was blissfully lost in a whirlwind of the publishing industry.

  They hadn’t changed much and they loved my illustrations as they were and the book itself was quite short on account of being a children’s book, but once I signed the contract they’d offered me, I had the first official copy in a matter of days.

  I ran my fingertips over the glossy finish on the cover. I thumbed through the pages, letting my eyes drift over the words I had written and the pictures I illustrated. It was perfect in every sense of the word.

  They’d given me very little notice about the Viscount Convention but I was here, signing books and chatting with other Viscount authors and so many avid readers. If I was dreaming, I never wanted to wake up. I was in my element and thrilled to be there, but Graham was on my mind and had been since I decided to reach out to him. I was still unsure of how or when or where I’d do it, but I knew I wanted to, and that felt like a step in the right direction.

  “Happy reading,” I said offering a smile to the woman standing in front of my table with her arm draped over her son’s shoulder.

  “Thank you, Miss Randall,” he mumbled shyly in that way that kids do when their parents instruct them to say something specific. It was rehearsed but no less endearing.

  “You’re welcome.” I smiled as they turned to walk away. My permanent marker rolled across the table and fell to the floor before I could catch it. “Shoot,” I grumbled hoping I didn’t look like the rookie that I was. With my head partially covered by the tablecloth, I reached under the table and retrieved my marker.

  When I righted myself in my seat I’m certain that my gasp was audible.

  Graham.

  “Hi,” he said in his deep voice, looking unsure of himself but so incredibly handsome. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I stared up at him as though I’d been met with a ghost.

  “Hi,” I whispered back. He slid a copy of my book across the table and I looked up at him feeling a mix of emotions. “Your leg,” I mumbled, leaning forward across the table to see that he appeared to be okay.

  “All better.”

  “I can see that.” I settled back into my chair and met his gaze again.

  “I haven’t read it yet,” he said with his dark eyes glued to the title, Goliath Next Door. “What’s the book about?”

  “The boy next door. Adventures. Childish nonsense,” I whispered.

  “And is he a hero or a villain?”

  “Both.” I swallowed.

  “Does he come out all right in the end?”

  “You’ll have to read it and find out.”

  “I don’t read books.”

  “I know. So why are you buying mine?”

  “Because I promised I would. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Halley’s having a baby,” he somewhat blurted.

  “You’re going to be an uncle. Congratulations. That’s wonderful.” I smiled.

  “Thank you.” He gave a small smile and made me ache to see it after what felt like ages. “She said to tell you hi.”

  I only nodded and worked to clear my thoughts enough to sign my own name.

  I signed the book and slid it across to him. His gaze was heavy and I felt it in every receptor in my body.

  “Can we talk?”

  “I won’t be done here for another hour or so,” I said, noting the time on my cell phone beside me. Graham nodded.

  “Okay. Can I give you a call tonight?”

  “Sure. Yes. That would be fine.” He nodded and I opened the book on the title page where I signed my name and wrote the only thing I could think to write.

  Thank you for being my Goliath next door.

  -Flor

  The last hour of the convention seemed to crawl by. I checked the time on my phone repeatedly it seemed to be at a standstill. When the final few readers trickled through the convention, I all but ran from the building. I needed to hail a cab, get home and gather my thoughts. Graham said he would call me tonight and I had a lot I wanted to say—a lot I needed to say.

  I slung my bag over my shoulder and started down the sidewalk, hoping I’d grab a cab soon. I had been outside for all of three minutes and I was already sweating.

  I rounded the corner and nearly jumped out of my own skin when I saw Graham leaning against the brick building.


  “Hey. Sorry,” he said reaching out to me briefly before withdrawing his hand. He had no idea how much I craved his touch. He couldn’t have known that had his hand landed on mine, I wouldn’t have let it go.

  “Hey,” I breathed.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted hastily.

  “It’s okay. I just didn’t see you there.” I tugged the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder, feeling restless in his presence.

  “No. Flor.” He shook his head looking frustrated. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was scared,” he went on as though he’d explode if he didn’t say what he held inside. I knew the feeling well. The haunted look in his eyes made my heart ache. As much as I hated what he did, seeing him so conflicted and tormented hurt.

  I loved him. There was no denying it. My broken heart was proof of the love that I carried there. A heart doesn’t break for a person for which they carry no love. A heart only breaks when a full heart sustains a blow that weakens the vessel that carries that love. I knew that now even if I hadn’t known it before.

  I didn’t know what to say to that confession. I looked down, not at all liking the fact that tears were threatening to spill forth with me standing on the sidewalk in broad daylight.

  “Don’t cry,” Graham whispered as his finger slipped beneath my chin, tilting my head up. “I’m not worth your tears, beautiful.”

  “Graham,” I croaked. “Why didn’t you just trust me with the truth?”

  “I could see how much resentment you had toward your dad—resentment you’re entitled to, by the way. It scared me. I was a coward, and for that I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. I should have talked to you. I should have let you explain. I owed you that much.”

  “Flor, you gotta know that every minute without you has been hell. You’re all I think about. You’re all I miss. You’re all I want and I came here to ask—no—beg you for another chance. Give me a chance to prove to you that I can make you happy.”

  My chin quivered as tears blurred my vision.

  “Come here. Please don’t cry. It kills me,” he said, sounding as though his emotions were barely contained.

  I allowed him to pull me forward, bringing my body only inches from his.

  “Why didn’t you say something? You should have said something.”

  “I wanted to. I tried so many times.”

  “I had the right to know,” I rasped, tears sliding down my cheeks.

  “Would you have stayed?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know, but what I do know is that you keeping things from me was the worst thing for you to do. Especially that you’re a recovering alcoholic. You knew that was a sore subject for me,” I said accusingly.

  “I know and if I could go back and do it all over, I’d change what I did. I didn’t think you’d love me like I love you if you had any idea that I am the way I am.”

  “You love me?”

  “Dammit, Flor, are you blind? I’ve loved you from the first time I met you. Is it really that hard to believe that you bring me to my knees, that my entire world hinges on your next breath?”

  “You love me.”

  “Yes. More than you’ll ever know because I’m not capable of the right words but if you give me the chance, I swear to God I’ll show you. I’ll show you every day for the rest of my life. If my past is the single reason for you saying no, then let me give you a million reasons for you to say yes. Let me show you.”

  “You love me.” The words were fine as silk across my tongue.

  “I do. I love you so much, Florence Randall.”

  “I love you too, Goliath.”

  The twinkle that I loved so much flashed in his eyes before his goliath arms wrapped around my waist. He lifted me from my feet and buried his face in my neck and inhaled deeply. He smelled just as divine as he always did.

  “God I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.”

  “Never leave. No matter what. Never leave.”

  “I love you. I’ll never leave. Never,” I promised whole-heartedly, knowing that there were no truer words ever spoken.

  Graham half growled, half sighed, sending vibrations through his body and into mine. His grip around me slackened just enough for me to slide down the front of him, slowly back to my tiptoes.

  I slipped my eyes shut when his hands cupped my face as though I were breakable and precious and irreplaceable. His lips brushed over mine, testing my willingness to kiss him. I leaned in, giving him my approval. He half moaned, half sighed as his mouth met mine. Our lips melded together as though they too had missed the one they were made for. I opened my mouth to him and he didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue inside. He kissed me with fervor like I’d never experienced. I reveled in the taste of him on my tongue.

  Graham pulled back, my eyes fluttered open, my heart was racing so fast, and I felt close to passing out.

  “Flor, baby, I need you.”

  “You’ve got me,” I breathed.

  “No, baby. I need you. Right now.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes. Please.” He would have tossed me over his shoulder if I didn’t move my legs in time with his. I took four steps for every two he took but I managed because in truth, I needed him too.

  We hurried to the curb where his SUV was waiting. He swung the door open and I slipped inside. The moment I settled into the leather seat and reached for my seatbelt, Graham was already sliding into the driver’s seat. His arm snaked over the center console and his hand claimed the territory of my thigh. Desire and nerves coiled tightly in my belly. God, how I wanted him. My core tingled and buzzed with desire for him.

  He didn’t say a word as he maneuvered us through Manhattan traffic with ease. The bubble of reunited love that was encasing us felt fragile. So fragile that I didn’t want to open my mouth and say a word. I wondered if he felt the same.

  Graham pulled up to the valet at his building and hopped out. He rounded the front of the SUV and opened the door for me. I locked eyes with him and felt preyed upon. Carnal desire lit his eyes, and I knew that my man was hell bent on claiming what was his and I wanted him to. I wanted him to take his fill, take what he needed, take what he wanted, get drunk on me and stay drunk on me because that was exactly what I planned to do too.

  The elevator doors chimed and slid open as soon as Graham pressed the button. I stepped in ahead of him and immediately memories of being in the elevator with him at Four-19 flooded my mind and subsequently, my center. I inhaled deeply. My breath stuttered down my throat. My breasts rose and Graham’s eyes dropped to where cleavage peeked up from the top of my dress.

  He sighed impatiently and looked up at the light indicating what floor we were passing. It seemed to take an eternity and a nanosecond to arrive at the top. The elevator chimed, the doors slid open and Graham lunged at me. He swept me up, prompting my legs to wrap around his waist. One hand cupped my ass; the other held my face as he ravaged my mouth with his.

  I was dizzy with lust, kissing him as though my life depended on it. We were making up for the time we’d lost. My back hit his bed causing breath to rush out of me.

  “I need you,” he repeated in a deep voice, husky with need.

  “I need you too,” I breathed.

  “Flor,” he whispered as a flurry of clothes rained down around us. I laid before him completely bare and trembling with lust.

  “Please,” I begged without shame.

  Graham slipped one hand along the inside of my thigh and then the other. With one quick movement, he gripped my hips in his hands, tugged me to the edge of the bed and tossed my legs over his shoulders.

  Oh god.

  His breath on my sensitive center sent goose bumps racing across the surface of my skin, causing a delightful shiver to move through my body.

  He kissed the inside of my thighs making me squirm. I was desperate for connection. I needed him to fill me and claim me and make
my body his. Something primitive in me needed him to own my body with his—to possess me.

  “Baby, please,” I urged, moving my hips forward. I looked down at him and noted the smile tilting his lips.

  Painfully, yet perfectly slow, his tongue swept across my slick center. I moaned and tossed my head back.

  “Perfect,” he whispered just before making another slow pass with his tongue. He alternated between long, languid passes with his tongue and short, rapid bursts, flicking against my skin so fast my legs jumped reflexively in time with his ministrations. He suckled my clit and rolled his tongue across my most sensitive area over and over. I gasped and moaned and fought to breathe.

  “So good, baby,” he growled against my skin, sending vibrations through me. He slipped two thick fingers deep inside me and worked me in and out, his tongue staying in time with the movement of his fingers.

  “Oh, yes,” I moaned. “Oh, please, don’t stop. Right there!” Like dammed up electricity, my orgasm burst free of its walls in one formidable wave of pleasure. It seared its way through every nerve ending in my body. I shook and cried out, gasped for air and quaked with Graham’s divine tongue still lapping up my desire.

  My eyes felt heavy but I pried them open just in time to see Graham hook his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and drag them down his legs. My mouth watered at the sight of him. His extraordinary cock stood at attention and pulsed slightly. With my legs half hanging off the bed, Graham grabbed me around my waist and hauled me up his bed. Without hesitation, my knees parted invitingly. His dark eyes burned with lust, making me feel very powerful because I knew that it was me who had done that to him. It was average me who had him going wild just as he had me going wild.

  “Graham, I need you,” I whispered.

  I watched as he planted his knees and leaned down over me. His mouth covered mine in an all-consuming kiss. He broke away and gripped his cock in his hand, positioning himself at my opening. He dragged the tip of his erection over my slick center, making me squirm for more.