Page 81 of A False Start
And those aren’t the only thing that’s rock hard this morning. His bulge is wedged between my ass cheeks, and he’s got me clamped in his arms like I might run away from him, given the chance.
And nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, I’m feeling like I might just live here. Wrapped up inhim. All cinnamon and pine, hard body and soft hands.
After coffee with his parents yesterday, we took Tripod for a walk, and he told me all about growing up here in Ruby Creek. He also told me more about Griffin Sinclaire, quarterback extraordinaire, and how much he loved the sport. How much he misses it. And how hard his parents worked to see him meet his every goal.
I hate to admit there was this tiny part of me that was envious. Sure, it all went to shit, and he’s been facing down demons every day since. But the rest of it? The parents? The support? The love?
I wanted that. I still do.
We came back to his place, and he ran me a bath while he stepped outside to feed the horses. I could hear him talking on his phone but tuned it out as I sank into the bubbles. When I got out, I only meant to lie myself naked on the bed.
My plan was to become an all-you-can-eat buffet for Griffin Sinclaire. But I fell asleep. And rather than wake me up to indulge in that, he tucked me in. Like a perfect gentleman. He crawled in beside me, and I woke up part way through the night, realizing what had happened.
Then I snuggled back in and passed back out. I didn’t swipe my hand beneath my pillow to check for a gun. I just fell back into the most peaceful sleep of my life.
From across the room, his phone trills, the sound of his alarm filling the formerly quiet room, and he groans. A deep, masculine sound that makes the cage of his chest vibrate against my back.
I smile. The sun is shining through the slatted blinds, and I have the manliest man of all time holding me. What could be better?
He kisses my hair and runs a calloused palm over my bare arm before climbing out of bed and padding over to the dresser to hit the alarm. I roll over, tangled in the sheets and feeling thoroughly blissed out. My eyes fall to the round globes of his ass as he walks away.
Best view in the world.
I love that he sleeps naked. Love that he feels confident enough around me to walk around without a stitch of clothing when he seems to be riddled with so many insecurities most days. It warms my heart.
When he turns, he smirks at me. Probably because my eyes went from his ass right to his dick. “Good morning, Wildflower.”
I return the smirk. “Lookin’ good, Sinclaire.”
He shakes his head in a knowing way, but his lips tip up all the same. I expect him to come back to bed—Iwanthim to come back to bed—but he opens a dresser drawer and starts pulling clothes out.
“Where are you running off to?” My brows scrunch together in confusion.
“It’s supposed to be a scorcher. Gonna get the horses worked before it’s just plain too hot for them.”
“Oh.” My heart sinks. Guys always pull away after sex, so that’s where my head goes.
“Hey. Hey.” He crosses the room as he pulls a gray t-shirt over his head. When he gets to the edge of the bed, he drops to his knees and stretches one inked arm over me, stroking my hair as he stares into my eyes. “This means nothing more than I need to go to work. I...” He trails off, face falling just a little bit. “Come over tonight. When you’re done with work. Okay?”
I search his face for any clues as to what might be going through his head. On one hand, things have evolved between us kind of quickly. On the other, it seems like we’ve been circling each other for years, ignoring feelings that have always been there.
I’m anxious all the same. “Okay,” is my quiet reply.
His heavy brow presses down over his stormy eyes. “So help me, Nadia. If you’re questioning a single thing right now, rest assured, this is very real for me, too.”
My heart rate quickens, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding at hearing him say that out loud. “Okay. Here. After work. It’s a date.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes. “It’s a date.”
And with that he kisses me quickly and is gone out the door. The voice I’ve worked so hard to get rid of asks if I’msurehe’ll be back for more.
* * *
I walkover the field at the end of my day, not sure how to feel. Aside from hot, sweaty, and agitated. Work was busy and that kept me mostly occupied. Though I did spend a huge amount of time thinking about Griffin and wondering why he was acting so restrained this morning after not holding back the last couple of days.
Something was wrong, and that inkling keeps cropping up, twisting my thoughts and feelings into something uglier than I want where Griffin is concerned. It makes me think of my mother and how thoroughly she was swindled by my dad. By his endless amounts of money, by the sophistication of an older man. She had the world at her fingertips, and she gave it all up to be locked into a lifetime with a man who turned out to be a monster.
I constantly wonder if I’ll fall into the same trap. Even though the sane part of me knows Griffin is nothing like my sperm donor.
