Page 131 of Mess With Me

Griffin opens the fridge and holds a beer up at me. I nod as I come over, and he does his sexy lid-pop-off thing before handing me one.

“You said the lock looked old?”

“It was all corroded. Like it was put on there years ago and never touched. You think there’s, like, a time capsule of a room in there?”

“Maybe.” Griff grins. “Maybe there’s a door to a secret bunker.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Only a little. You never know with a man who lived in the woods all by himself for so long.”

I lean with my butt against the counter. “Right?”

He hesitates, then runs his hand over his jaw.

I smile. “Uh-oh. You have something to say.”

He scowls and takes a swig of beer. His throat bobs, and I follow the motion down his scruff to the collar of his shirt, which stretches over his thickly muscled chest.

He looks so damn sexy I suddenly forget all about mysterious rooms and old locks.

I hook my finger in the top of his shirt and try to pull him down for a kiss.

For a moment he acts like he’s not going to give it to me. But just as I start to huff, he dips down and claims my mouth with his.

For a moment I’m lost in the sensation of his lips gliding across mine, his tongue lightly brushing against mine. His mouth has the tiniest chill from the beer, and I can taste it on him, too. Just a little.

I’m just wondering what a chilled tongue would feel like in other places when Griffin pulls away. “Hey, Sasha?”

“Yeah?” I say, still trying to press my body against his. I can feel a thickness at his crotch.

But he angles away from me and doesn’t notice me pouting about it.

“Since we’re talking about special things…” He meets my eye. “What’s that little bird about?”

I freeze, confusion drawing my brows together. “Bird?”

“The little yellow bird you brought from home,” he says softly.

My cheeks grow hot. I didn’t know he knew about that.

“I saw you holding it that first night in the diner.”

I pull away from him, not because I’m upset, but because it’s embarrassing. “It’s stupid,” I whisper, taking a swig of beer.

“Bet it’s not.”

I fidget with the hem of my jacket, suddenly feeling like the girl I was when that bird was given to me. Scared. Lonely.

Unwanted.

“Hey,” Griff says when I stay quiet. “You don’t need to tell me. It just seems special to you. And you’re special to me, so. You know.”

Finally I look up, meeting Griffin’s eyes.

He’s looking at me so intently my stomach swirls.

“You know what I like about you, Griffin?” I whisper.

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