Page 16 of How to Date a Younger Man
I stare at him, barely able to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth. Is he actually serious? There’s no way he’s serious.
“Griff, you’re an idiot. A sweet one, but an idiot nonetheless.”
He makes a small scoffing sound, collecting our empty glasses and taking them to the kitchen. “I’m going to pour us another drink. Just think about it,” he calls over one shoulder before he steps out of view.
I shake my head, waving him away with the back of my hand.
It’s not unusual for Griffin to be forward with me, whether it be with a corny pickup line or a full-blown come-on. But this? This is a whole other level. Of all the lines to try to get into my panties . . . a baby? Besides, he’s still a college kid. Even drunk on a little too much tequila, there’s no way I could ever take him seriously.
Plus, there’s the not-so-little detail that I don’t want to be a single mother. While I might be a strong, independent woman, I’m not one of those who thinks single motherhood would be a piece of cake. I work seventy hours a week and would need a support system. Tackling parenthood alone was never part of my plan.
When Griffin returns, he sits closer to me, so our legs are practically touching. He hands me my glass, and I drink, even though I know I should have stopped after the last one. But all memories of Brian must be erased, no matter how shitty I’ll feel in the morning, so that’s what I focus on as I continue drinking.
“Drink up, buttercup. And, seriously—the offer stands.”
I take a sip and level him with a stare. “That offer being your sperm, just so I’m clear?”
He chuckles and flashes me a sexy smile. “Exactly.”
I ignore him, as I often do, and merely smile back, but I can’t ignore that tight feeling inside my chest.
Griffin laughs, tipping his drink toward his full lips. “What? I’m guessing I have very strong swimmers.”
He’s gorgeous, but he’s also ten years younger than me and a cocky playboy. He can’t possibly know what he’s saying, offering to put a baby in me. I would never even consider it. Still, he’s sweet . . . in a misguided, juvenile kind of way.
I’ve polished off half my drink before I realize that I need to slow the heck down. I’m already halfway to Drunkville and when I arrive in Drunkville all bets are off.
“So, tell me, Griffin, how’d you get so sweet?” The words slip out before I can think about them, my body leaning into his, and it’s my first warning that I’m not halfway to Drunkville, I’m already there.
“Just born that way, I guess. Having an older sister helped too.” His gaze lazily roams my face, moving from my hair to my eyes before settling on my lips.
“Are you this sweet to all the girls?”
He doesn’t reply, slowly shaking his head and tucking a stray hair behind my ear.
His fingers are warm and soft as they graze my skin, sending a shock wave straight through my chest. Without thinking, I bring my mouth to his, our lips merely brushing at first. We hold still, his warm breath grazing my lips, electricity pulsing between us.
“Layne?” he whispers, his mouth still hovering over mine.
“Kiss me,” I whisper back.
He moves closer until our lips touch—tentative at first, and then with growing urgency as he takes control of the kiss. He tastes like tequila and youth.
God, why can’t I just throw caution to the wind for once?
Our mouths crash together, my hands hungrily raking over his firm chest. Holy hell, he’s so solid. Every inch of me lights up with the need for his touch, my body suddenly aching for more. His hand cups my jaw, and he tilts my head, lining up our mouths as he deepens the kiss, his tongue eagerly tasting mine.
Hello, hormones. It’s either the alcohol playing tricks on me, or Griffin is by far the best kisser I’ve ever had.
With a hungry groan, I crawl into his lap and straddle him. His hands move up my spine, and I feel the evidence of his heavy arousal pressing between my thighs. Holy hell. Every muscle south of my belly button clenches at once. The man is obviously sporting a serious package.
Dear God, I shouldn’t know that detail about Kristen’s little brother.
His hands smooth over my hair as I grind against him, loving the low groan that escapes from deep within him. I peel his jacket off so I can feel the firmness of his muscles under his shirt, his pecs tensing beneath my touch. Every fantasy I’ve ever had about him comes rushing to the surface, starting from when we first met in my office over a year ago.
The more I remember, the more my need for him grows, and the more ragged my breathing becomes. My hands go straight for his jeans, searching out the button, and end up brushing his erection instead. It twitches against my fingers just as his thigh meets my center, causing a moan to escape from my lips.
