Page 27 of Crash
He noticed her hesitation and turned to look at her.
“You can keep Rover and me company in the kitchen if you want.”
She nodded, grateful for the suggestion. Quynh didn’t watch much TV anyway. A perverse side of her wanted to see how he moved in the kitchen.
Griffin the mechanic was a fantasy all on its own, but Griffin the cook was swoon-worthy.
Whoa, girl, get a hold of yourself.
If her mother were alive, she’d admonish her for acting unladylike in public. Thoughts of her mother were like being splashed with a bucket of cold water. Her posture straightened as she fought to control her facial expressions.
Stoic. I have to be stoic.
Griffin showed her to the center island with bar-top seating.
“You can dice the tomatoes if you want.”
She gave him a curt nod and went to the sink to wash her hands. By the time she dried her hands, he had set up a cutting board with the tomatoes in question for her. She sat down and lifted the sleek knife, admiring how lightweight it was in her hand. She was no cook, but she could figure out how to dice up tomatoes.
Griffin returned to the stove as he continued to prep dinner. They worked in comfortable silence. The only sounds were the muffled voices coming from the news channel in the living room. Rover lay in the corner, chewing on his bone while his tail thumped against the linoleum happily.
Her tense posture relaxed as she cut up the tomatoes. When she was done, she placed them into the small bowl on the counter.
Since dinner wasn’t quite ready, she cleaned up the counter and washed up. She wasn’t sure where they were going to sit for dinner, but at the very least, she could set the table.
It was all so very domestic, helping Griffin prepare for dinner. She could get used to this.
It’s too bad she wouldn’t be around for much longer.
thirteen
GRIFFIN
This was a terrible idea.
He never should have invited her over for dinner. He didn’t mind cooking for someone else, but having her tantalizing presence in his home was wreaking havoc on his senses.
Her vanilla scent hit him like a Mack truck when he opened the door to find her on his porch. He tried to ignore the way she’d looked at him, dusky lips parted with a teasing peek of her pink tongue. It took him a great deal of effort to step aside to allow her to walk past him. He held his breath to avoid breathing in more of her alluring scent and was caught off guard when her breast grazed his chest.
There was no mistaking the sharp inhale as he tried to control his body’s reactions. His cock, which had been an annoying presence all day, rose to the occasion, taking her brief touch as an invitation for more.
Down, boy.
His cock refused to listen. The traitor.
He’d hoped if she was hidden away in the living room while he cooked, he’d have some more time to wrangle his cock under control. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side, and she’d opted to help him in the kitchen.
He made sure to keep his back toward her while he cooked so she wouldn’t spot the very obvious hard-on in his sweats. Griffin only typically wore boxers when he left the house. He hadn’t even thought about putting on a pair of boxers for his guest when he’d hopped out of the shower earlier. He might have jerked off to thoughts of bending Quynh over in the open doorway of his truck. It was necessary to get his libido under control before she got here, so he didn’t mount her as soon as he saw her like a feral beast scenting a woman in heat.
Griffin couldn’t recall a time when he’d felt this way about a woman. He’d had his fair share of flings over the years. He was no monk and often had a willing woman to take care of his basic needs if he wanted it. Mostly, they were transactional with no strings attached. He’d make sure his women were satisfied before he was finished. Then, once the awkward cleanup of the used condoms was over, he’d say his farewells and head home.
It had always been a hard line for him. He never took the women home with him. The cliche of not wanting a woman to become attached and think there was more toit than just sex was his primary concern. He had no desire to be in a relationship.
Frankly, he’d probably make a terrible boyfriend. Griffin almost chuckled out loud at the idea of being called someone’s boyfriend. The last time he’d been referred to as such was in his twenties. A younger and wilder Griffin who had been reckless with his life until he almost lost everything.
He never wanted to go back to the dark place in his life. Being single suited his lifestyle just fine. He put the finishing touches to the chicken piccata with penne pasta, drizzling the lemon sauce he made from scratch over the pate before topping it off with some more capers. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was one of his favorite meals to make.
A sudden wave of anxiety washed over him.
