Page 51 of Under One Roof

“Are you nervous?” he asks, and I finally force my attention up to his face.

“A little,” I admit. It’s been years, and I sort of feel like a virgin all over again. I’m somehow both hot and cold, goose bumps racing over my arms, and I instantly draw my legs together, but he stops me with his hands on my thighs.

He kneels between them, rubbing his palms in circles. They’re a little rough, callused in places, but I don’t mind. Soft and hard, that’s innately Griffin. I wouldn’t want him any other way.

He slides a pillow under my lower back, propping my hips up, essentially putting all of me on display. It’s…unnerving. But he licks his lips and murmurs, “I can’t wait to taste you.”

That idea makes me squirm, and I pull him down to me, hoping he doesn’t notice my cringe. “Please, I need you.”

He’s careful not to put his full weight on me, his arms taut, abs clenching, and I don’t waste the opportunity to explore his body, running my hands over his shoulders, down his back, and around to his stomach. As I explore, he watches me with tender eyes, an ever so slight uptick to his lips.

“I like this,” he grates out as I drag my fingertips over his chest, scratching at his nipples. “You not being afraid.”

“Because you make me feel safe.” I lift my head to kiss him, sliding my tongue along his, and that’s when he adjusts his position, widening my thighs with his so I pull my knees up. Then I feel the first push into me. He’s broad, and I stiffen reflexively.

I hate that I do, yet I can’t help it. But he simply waits for me, kisses me, tells me how I’m doing so well, that I’m perfect for him, in between licks on my throat and nibbles on my jaw. After a while, he dips his chin, staring between us, at where we’re barely connected. “You ready?”

I bite my lip and nod, giving him permission to keep going. Little by little, he works himself inside me, taking his time, his breathing becoming audibly louder, his control slipping. I start to tell him it’s okay, but I can’t. I’m unable to talk when he thrusts again, deeper and so much fuller than I ever remember it being like. He grunts, retreats, and then drives into me again so fast and hard that air wrenches from my lungs. It takes me a moment to breathe again, and when Griffin notices, he lowers himself to his forearms, bringing us even closer, my nipples brushing against his chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I just… It’s never felt like this. So full and…deep.”

He drops his head, the scruff on his chin scratching my temple. “You feel so goddamn good.” He turns his hands to hold my head, forcing my eyes to his. “Jesus, sweetheart, I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.”

“You and me both,” I say on a breathy laugh, and he kisses me once again, this one more teeth than tongue as he drives forward, hitting the spot that sends waves of pleasure coursing through me. I gasp, my nails digging into his back, urging him on. “Ooh, please, please, please.”

His pace quickens, his breath coming in ragged pants. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest, echoing my own. He’s close, I can tell, but so am I. So damn close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants. “Andi, fuck, I’m coming.”

He groans, a deep, guttural sound, and stills over me, his body trembling with release. I’m right there, on the edge but not quite over, and when he realizes, he dips his head to place a quick, soft kiss on the hollow of my throat. “I’ll make it up to you. Give me a second.”

He pulls out of me and turns away to deal with the condom, giving me his back, sleek and muscular with two little divots above his ass cheeks and red tracks on either side of his spine. He returns to the bed seconds later and throws himself between my legs. This time, I’m not quick enough to stop him, his mouth open and wet against me.

I hiss and shove at him with my hands and feet. “No, you don’t need to do that.”

When he tips his head up, his features are pulled down in a frown. “But you didn’t come. I’m not going to be the only one who finishes.”

“I already did,” I say, trying to scoot away from him, but he clamps his hands around my hips.

“I want to make you feel good, Andi. I want you to come,” he says, almost like he’s mad about it.

“It’s fine.” I scramble back, pulling the sheet up to cover myself, and he scowls as he sits up.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

He wipes his hand over his face, gazing at me for a long time, assessing me. Whatever he sees has him nodding once before picking up the pillow from the floor and righting the covers. He joins me under them and tucks me against his side with his arm around me, my head on his chest.

We cuddle like that for a while, him toying with my hair and me tracing the tiger tattoo on his chest. I suspect he’s waiting for me to explain, so I close my eyes and tell him a story. One only very few people know. Three, to be exact.

“I had a boyfriend in high school. Robbie Davis.”

“Please don’t tell me this is going where I think it’s going and he…hurt you.”

“No.” I move so I’m reclining against the pillows. Even though I can look at Griffin like this, I don’t really want to. What happened has already shaped me so much as a person, I don’t necessarily want to see how it might change how he thinks of me. Like I’m being overly emotional.

Because that’s what I’d been told. That I’d been dramatic over the episode. That if I wanted to be an adult, I had to act like it.

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