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My stomach flipped. I liked it. Liked seeing the evidence on my skin of how much he’d enjoyed my body. He’d been like an animal with its favorite bone.
I’d been the bone, and I’d loved the way he’d chewed me out and kept coming back for more.
Not once had he made me feel bad for loving every bit of the depravity. Even when he’d called me a cockslut, it hadn’t come across as malicious and something I should be ashamed of.
Back in the bedroom, I picked a shirt from Griff’s closet and put it on. At the door, I inhaled and exhaled several times.
No need to be nervous. It’s just Griff. You’ve been writing this man letters for years.
I padded along the hall, following the dim light to the kitchen. Griff sat at the table, a glass of liquor in his hand. A half-finished bottle of scotch was in front of him.
He glanced up, and the magic of the night disappeared. I winced. His face had to hurt with that nasty bruise. I wanted to flee back to the bedroom, but that was the easy way out. We still hadn’t talked much about what had happened with him and Jay. He’d jumped my bones instead. Had he used me to not deal with the unresolved issues between him and Jay?
“Why are you out of bed?” he asked.
“I should leave.”
He frowned. “It’s too late for you to leave now.”
“Jay will be worried.”
“Then call him or send him a message, but you’re not leaving.”
I placed my hands on my hips. “You can’t keep me as a hostage forever.”
“Hostage? I just don’t want to be alone right now. You kind of ground me, Scottie. Damn if I know why. I won’t stop you from leaving. In fact, I’ll take you home if you really want to go, but I hope you stay.”
Oh, man, no one else could rile me up, then mellow me out in the same breath. How could I leave now?
Sighing, I sat across from him. “Do you want to talk?”
“Come over here.” He crooked his finger. “You’re too far.”
“What?”
“Sit on my lap.”
I grabbed the edge of my seat. “I’m too sore for more…you know.”
“Not sex. Just to feel you. To not feel so fucking empty for all the wrong choices I’ve made in my life.”
Well, when he put it that way…I walked around the table. He pushed back his chair and patted his thighs. I sat with my back upright, but he placed an arm around me, slipped it under my shirt, and stroked my belly. I loved when he did that. Humming, he sipped his scotch.
“Griff, I thought you were going to talk to me.”
He sighed. “What’s there to say, Scottie? I fucked up. I fucked up badly.”
“Okay, maybe you did.”
“Nice pep talk.” He bounced me on his knee, and I groaned.
“Don’t do that. I told you I’m sore.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, I wasn’t finished. Yes, you might have messed things up, but you’re trying to make a difference. That counts for something.”
“Not for Jay.”
