Page 39 of Cakewalk
“I hope so. Real estate is cheap enough here.” I bit into my sandwich, not sure what to do with a conversation that wasn’t about work. It was sweet that he was concerned about me, but weren’t we avoiding this? Trying to keep things strictly professional?
Hell, who was I kidding? I came up to his apartment for drinks, for goodness’ sake. We both knew what we wanted. That one night hadn’t been enough for either of us. Hanging out in the office trailer with him so close had been pure torture for me. And judging by the looks he tried to hide, he had shared in my misery.
“There was something you had mentioned that first day we met,” Griffin started.
I frowned, immediately wracking my brain. That first day we met was a hell of a day… and a night. I still couldn’t believe I had been adventurous enough to sleep with him after having only known him since that morning. “Refresh my memory?”
“Youreallydidn’t want me taking a peek at your phone’s photo gallery. But I was thinking, if you hadn’t so much as tried to get back into the dating scene before you met me, what kind of salacious pictures could you have been taking?”
I groaned and half-considered burying my face in my sandwich. “Well, I was considering getting back into it. So I did take some pictures, experimentally, to maybe post on some dating app. But I chickened out instead.”
“Can I see?”
“God, no!”
“I’ve seen you in far more compromising positions, I’m sure.”
Well, he had that right. “But it’s so embarrassing and desperate.”
“Nothing desperate about a beautiful woman wanting to be seen.”
I rolled my eyes again, but of course I found it charming as hell. “All right, but if you laugh, I’m going to join the angry mob along with everyone else.”
I pulled up the folder in the photo gallery, quickly glimpsed through it myself just to be sure there wasn’t anything too mortifying in it, then relinquished my phone over.
Griffin grinned like a fiend at me, then turned his eyes to the screen, scrolling slowly, his eyebrows lifting higher and higher with each picture. “You’re very cute in an oversized T-shirt and nothing else on.”
“Keep scrolling.”
He put a hand over his mouth as he gasped. “Lingerie? Hang on, I need to sear this image into my brain.”
I crossed my arms. “Now you’re messing with me.”
“Absolutely not. I’d ask you to send them to me, but lewd photos are what takes down a lot of professionals, aren’t they?”
“Send me a few of yourself then. Mutually assured destruction.” I grinned.
“Photos are nice, but we’re right here in the flesh. Why not the real thing?” His eyes looked me up and down, like he was already undressing me in his mind.
I felt my cheeks flush as I finished my lunch and downed the rest of my beer. “You first. I’ve never really gotten a good look at those tattoos.”
He immediately started unbuttoning his shirt. “If you insist.”
“Don’t act all bashful. You know what we both want.”
He laughed wickedly and had his shirt off before I knew it. And damn, was he beautiful. Those muscles, which I could assume now were the product of the prison’s gym equipment, tightened and rolled as he tossed his shirt behind him. He then spread his arms, letting me see his tattoos in all their glory.
They were tasteful, not too much color, simple designs that told stories I could only guess at. “You get any of these in prison?”
He nodded, then pointed at a few. “Nothing too exciting. I don’t have any murders under my belt, and they don’t exactly have any cool designs for people who’ve committed tax fraud.”
“I’d imagine they don’t.”
He pointed at one, a black cat in a spiffy top hat. “Cat burglar. Closest thing the artist could come up with for my so-called crime. You know, with tax fraud being a form of theft and all.”
“But you didn’t do it.”
“I was convicted. All that really matters.”
