Page 34 of Accidental Husband
"How?"
"It's just a sample. I couldn't eat the entire bag—that would be disgustingly sweet—but I can have a taste."
He looks at me like I'm crazy, but he still grabs another slice of fruit. "Your first time sucked?"
"You know enough of the details."
"Had to buy a bottle of lube for you."
"Oh my God, Griff."
"Then teach you how to teach Jackson to go down on you properly."
My cheeks flush. Then my chest. This is just… oh my God. So not going there. Not with him. Not now. And not ever. "You have a point?"
"Imagine you fucked someone who knew what he was doing."
"Who am I imagining?"
"Is Thor still getting you off?"
I flip him off.
"That a yes?"
"Oh my God." I steal his dried plum. Prune, I guess. It's not sweetened like the fruits. Which makes it tart and intense, more flavor than sugar.
"Imagine Chris Hemsworth came to your bedroom, poured you a glass of champagne, pressed his lips to your neck."
"Okay…"
"You're not imagining." Griff slides his arm around my waist. Moves me down the row of dried fruit. Past apples, pears, kiwi. All the way to the corner.
The beverage fridge.
I ignore his request. Rifle through the fridge for something with lots of caffeine and no sugar. There aren't many options, but there is an iced green tea.
Victory.
I press the glass bottle to my chest.
He wraps his arm around my waist. Pulls my body into his. "You're supposed to imagine."
My eyelids press together. He's pulling me closer so he can whisper. Not for any other reason. But, fuck—
My stomach flutters.
My heart thuds against my chest.
My limbs get light.
Thank God he's holding me. I'm about to float to the ceiling.
I press the frigid glass to my neck, but it fails to cool me down.
"Close your eyes," Griff whispers in my ear. "Imagine him."
Chris Hemsworth. Right. I try to conjure his long blond hair, piercing eyes, built chest.
