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“You don’t scare me, Griff.” She challenges me.
“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.” I slide my hand down the front of her leggings, biting back a moan when I realize she’s not wearing panties. “You aren’t ready for what I’m capable of.” I slide my finger between her wet folds.
She stands there, still as a statue while I tease her. A throbbing vein in her neck and the sound of her wet heat are the only things showing me that she’s loving my touch. Right as she’s about to come, I pull my finger out of her and trace her lips with it, smearing her juices all over her lips. She licks the tip of my finger.
“Good girl,” I give her a growl for pleasing me. I step back. “Now tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll let you come.”
I watch as she fights to retain the distance between us. Whatever it is, she doesn’t want to deal with it. Or she doesn’t know how yet. Her shoulders deflate when she makes the decision to give into me.
“I had a flare a few days ago. It was another mental fog, I was just about to order my favorite latte and poof,” she snaps her fingers, “everything just went cloudy. I couldn’t remember anything. I just froze. Luckily some sweet woman helped get me to the hospital.”
An alarm blares from the speaker, and I hit the stop button again to get us back moving.
“She had this beautiful baby girl on her chest in one of those carriers. I started to wonder as I came out of the fog if this is something I would pass down to my children. When I asked the doctor if it was, he informed me that I am, in all likelihood, infertile. Then he walked out of the room like he didn’t just shatter the only dream I have left.”
I pull her into my arms as the first tears escape and kiss the top of her head.
“I’ve just been in a downward spiral since then.” Her voice is muffled by chest, but I can hear the sadness in it nonetheless.
“Maybe he was wrong.” And what a fucking insensitive prick. “If he was an ER doctor, he probably doesn’t know in-depth details about every disease.” I run my hands up and down her back comfortingly.
“I asked my specialist yesterday,” she says stepping off the elevator into the main hospital lobby. “She said that with my history of irregular periods plus this diagnosis, the chances of me conceiving are very slim.” She bites her lip while she texts her driver to pick her up.
“I’m sorry.” I tilt her head back up, so she’s looking in my eyes. “I’m here. I’m with you.”
She nods and sniffles.
“Okay, how about dinner?” She definitely hasn’t been eating, and my number one priority right now is to take care of her. “Let’s go to our diner, eat greasy food, and talk about anything besides babies.”
“Add dance to the restricted topics, and you have yourself a deal.”
I open the door for her when Marco pulls up. She tells him the address for the diner and makes small talk with him on the drive there. He asks about Lilith, so I show him the pictures I took. It’s after eight, so traffic isn’t too bad, and the drive is short.
“Okay,” I look across the table at her while we wait for our server. “How about we play two truths and a lie over dinner? Work, dance, and babies are off the table entirely, but anything else is fair game.”
“Sounds perfect.”
The server comes and takes our order, which I make because I want to see her eat and not pick at a limp diner salad all night. We’re having our usual, burgers, fries, and milkshakes.
“I’ll start. I once punched Con for kissing my sister, I hate onions, and I just bought a house in the Hamptons.”
“The first is the lie,” she says decisively.
“Wrong,” I say with a smile. “I caught him kissing Gwen at a pool party in middle school. I punched him right in the nose.”
“That’s hilarious,” she giggles, and my chest loosens a bit seeing her smile instead of cry. “I would have loved to see that.”
“Yeah, that was the day we decided all sisters were off limits.”
“Are you worried about this?” She points back and forth between us.
“Yes.” I nod. “But I wouldn’t change what’s happening here. It’s different than anything I’ve experienced before.”
“Good,” she nods slowly, still looking unsure until she shakes it off. “I guess it’s my turn.” She taps her finger and thinks for a minute. “Okay, my first kiss was with one of the lawn workers at my boarding school. I want to spend a summer at home in St. Petersburg someday. I’m allergic to cats.”
“The first better be the fucking lie.”
I watch the smile grow across her face as she shakes her head. “Nope. I’m not allergic to cats.”
