Page 110 of The Rookie

I grin as I run my hands up her stomach, to her tits, watching her head tilt back as I work her with my mouth again.

thirty

. . .

Avery

The café isquiet that morning, save for the sound of waves crashing in the distance and the occasional clink of plates from the servers. The scent of salt and fresh coffee drifts through the air as I stir my cappuccino, watching the foam swirl into tiny whirlpools.

Griffin sits across from me, looking entirely too pleased with himself, his sunglasses pushed up into his messy hair, his post-sex glow still ridiculously evident.

“You’re unusually quiet this morning when I went down on you, Sinclair,” he says, his voice teasing, smug as ever. “Still recovering from last night’s festivities? Or this morning’s?”

I shoot him a look over the rim of my cup. “Festivities? You mean the part where my ex-boyfriend showed up unannounced and found my naked roommate answering the door?”

Or the part where you fucked me with your porn cock until three a.m.?

I say it like it’s a joke, and obviously, don’t say the naughty bit out loud. It was a ridiculous night we had together. But inside?

Inside, I’m still trying to process everything.

Because last night happened.

And this morning happened.

And somehow, Griffin Knox—the guy who’s always been off-limits, always been too cocky, too much, and the opposite of my type—has me tangled up in his sheets, his mouth between my legs, his hands on my skin, making me come apart in ways I never even knew were possible.

I grip my coffee cup a little tighter, trying not to let the memory of his body pinning me down, the way he took his time, the way he whispered my name like it belonged to him now flood my system all over again.

Because this is crazy.

This is completely insane.

We have one more week in Mexico.

One more week of secret glances across the table, of tangled sheets and slow kisses, of pretending like this isn’t already slipping into something more.

And then what?

We just…stop?

We just walk away like nothing happened?

I can’t think about that.

I won’t think about that.

Instead, I lift my cup again, taking a sip, swallowing down all the uncertainty, all the questions I can’t ask.

And Griffin?

Griffin just grins at me, slow and knowing, like he already knows exactly what I’m thinking.

And that’s the worst part.

Because he probably does.

“Iwaswearing a towel. But don’t forget the part where he tried to punch me and I gave him one more chance. That was my finest moment.” His grin is pure mischief. “I am committed to non-violence, and non toxic—yet still protective—masculinity. I really didn’t want to hurt him. Honestly? I felt sorry for the guy.He really had it bad for you. But he needs to sort himself the fuck out.”

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