Page 63 of Under One Roof

“Hands on my head,” I say, lips brushing the thin line of hair, damp with her desire. “Direct me. You’re in charge.”

Andi’s throat bobs on a swallow, her fingers tentatively combing into my hair. Holding her gaze, I trace the outline of her pussy with my tongue. She gasps, her hips jerking reflexively before easing again when I tighten my grip. Then she fists her fingers in my hair, and I reward her with the flat of my tongue over her clit.

She sighs, more pliable tonight than last week, and I hope that means she’s trusting herself more, realizing she can have whatever she wants, if only she allows herself to. She should know by now, I will give her whatever she needs and wants—my fingers, my mouth, my cock.

My whole goddamn heart.

It beats wildly in my chest when her belly tenses, head lifting off the pillow, as she rasps, “I need… I need…”

“What?”

“Your hand.”

“Attagirl.” I slide my middle and index fingers inside her as I suck on her clit, making her thighs quiver and her inner muscles clench. Stroking in and out, I focus on the swollen spot that makes her cry out.

Her own hands squeeze, holding me to her, hips writhing, showing me the rhythm and strength she needs. I’m so proud of her for asking for what she wants, and when she hisses out a lowyes, I hum my approval.

She comes again, body convulsing, hands gripping my hair tightly. I ride out her orgasm with her, my tongue softening, my touch gentling as she settles down, and when she finally stills, I press a soft kiss to her clit, then move up her body, gathering her in my arms.

She groans, eyes heavy, limbs loose, but she smiles when she turns to me, swiping her palm over my mouth. “You have…”

“You all over me?” I guess, then kiss her, permitting her no time to be embarrassed. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I think you know I did.”

I tuck her head beneath my chin. “You’re right. Just want to hear you say it.”

“I loved it.”

Warmth spreads from my chest outward, thickening the blood in my veins, and I have to clamp my jaw shut to keep the words from escaping my mouth.I love you.

“Sleep now,” I say, pulling the comforter over us. “I got you.”

Andi yawns and settles against me, soft and sleepy, one hand curled under her chin, the other on my chest.

She falls asleep easily.

I don’t. I stay awake, learning what it’s like to live with my heart split three ways. For Grace, Logan, and now Andi.

I used to believe life is too precious to fuck it up with something as capricious as feelings. Now I know life is too precious not to feel it all. Because this time with Andi is worth any possible heartache. Today, with my family, their smiling faces are the reward for the difficult things I’ve been through in my life. I can’t have the good without the bad, but I know there is so much more good, if only I allow myself to accept it.

Chapter21

Andi

Iwake up cold, blindly reaching for the covers, pulling them up over my naked shoulder, intent on going back to sleep, but my nose itches and I have to pee. Cracking my eyelids open, I remember last night, Griffin watching me bring myself to orgasm before he did with his mouth. I recall falling asleep, wrapped up in his arms, and the feel of his skin on mine making it so easy to drift off.

But he’s gone. I sit up, my sunshine lamp cloaking my little basement apartment in hazy, fake morning light. Griffin is nowhere in sight, and I check the time. It’s after eight o’clock, and he’s probably been up for two hours already. His unfailing daily schedule is a reassurance as much as it’s a disappointment. Because I’d rather him be here with me in bed.

Even though he was with me all night.

A melody circles my brain, and I hum as I use the bathroom. Try out a few words as I brush my teeth and wash my face. Start to put it together as I toss on shorts and one of Griffin’s hoodies. I’ve pilfered three of them now, not including the zip-up he gave me on the day we met.

Soon, my whole closet will just be his clothes.

I like that line and open up a notebook, jotting down lyrics about refusing to give back his sweatshirt like I refuse to give back his heart. As I strum a few chords, it comes together, a song about making a home with a man. The words flow easily once I get going, and before I know it, three hours have passed, and I only stop at the sound of footsteps on the staircase.

I look up to see Griffin, dressed in navy-blue work pants and polo shirt with the fire station’s emblem on the chest. His eyes soften, a small smile playing on his lips, his voice a low rumble. “Morning.”

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