Page 83 of A False Start
Until he ruins it all.
28
Nadia
Griffin hasn’t fuckedme in five days, and I’m losing my mind. Which is why I’m gawking out the clinic windows at his perfect ass as he walks a horse up and down the driveway while Mira watches for any signs of lameness.
All I can confirm is that he can wear the hell out of a pair of jeans and that he’s so much sweeter than I ever banked on.
Even though I’m pissed with him right now.
When we were about to go our separate ways after the annoyingly sweet but fake tropical vacation, he told me he needed a bit of time to work something out. When I asked what that something was, he said he’d tell me once he took care of it.
When I asked what a bit of time was, he told me he couldn’t say for sure.
He promised me over and over again that this wasn’t the end.Don’t misunderstand me, Wildflower. This isn’t the end. This is just the beginning. When I told you you’re mine, I fucking meant it. But to keep going with you while I have this hanging over my head feels wrong. You deserve better.
Honestly, his vagueness pissed me off. Which is why I told him not to come around until he’s ready to talk honestly with me. I hate secrets. I hate not knowing. I hate being kept in the dark like I’m a child or something. And even all that raw pain in his eyes wasn’t enough to convince me otherwise.
But I still want to fuck him. Because nobody—and I meannobody—is better at sex than Griffin Sinclaire. Plus, I really do understand having things you’re not ready to talk about.
And if I’m being honest, it’s a lot more than just sex with him. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. I promised myself I wouldn’t have casual sex to fill some void inside of me, and I haven’t.
The problem is, I’m getting obsessed. With his dick. With his moody growls. With his commitment to my to-do list. With the soft looks he gives Tripod when he bends down to scratch him behind his ears. Is there anything hotter than a man who’s a total softie for animals? Because I’m pretty sure there’s not. And watching Griffin take in the dirty, malnourished, three-legged mutt and love him so completely could make me cry.
He stops to talk to Mira after trotting the horse back to her, and when she moves along the filly, running her hand over her ribs as she goes, Griffin’s head snaps up. He glances my way, like he justknewI was scoping him out. Our eyes find each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like we’re opposite ends of a magnet. Drawn together in the most intrinsic of ways. Even if we shouldn’t be.
When he looks at me like this, none of that other stuff matters. It feels like the world put us in each other’s paths that night. It feels like my brother bought his farm so we’d be a part of each other’s worlds.
At the risk of sounding like a woo-woo sap, there’s something about us that feels written in the stars.
I don’t look away and neither does he. He just scowls at me, and it makes me smile. He might act like a grizzly bear, but I know what’s underneath. I’ve felt him soften beneath my palms. I’ve heard the loving things he whispers in my ears.
I’m smart enough to know there’s something holding him back, something he’s embarrassed about. Some demon from his past. But his demons don’t scare me. They call to my own. Our wild sides match, our shadowy parts twirl together so easily. Our demons spill out and dance together, like dark plus dark makes light.
I told him once that I didn’t know what I’d have in common with someone my age who’s lived an average life. That I’d feel like I was darkening their bright, shiny aura with my shadows.
But with Griffin it doesn’t feel that way at all. He doesn’t treat me like I’m damaged. He takes all my little broken bits and mixes them with his own.
And I want more of that. He must see it in my face because his brows drop lower, lips tipping with what someone who doesn’t understand him might see as a bad mood. I just see anxiety. I see all the things he wants to say to me but can’t bring himself to voice.
I wink at him and turn away, checking the clock as I grab my bag and walk toward the front door.
A week of space is enough for him to freak out. And me, for that matter. I’m also tired of pretending my vibrator is him.
It’s time to poke the bear again.
“You off?” Mira calls out.
I wave, grinning. “Yeah. I think I’m gonna grab a horse and go for a trail ride.”
“Good for you. Between this guy”—she hikes a thumb over at Griffin—“and Violet, you’ve come along quickly.” Since day one, this woman has been my biggest fan, and I love her for it.
“Well, you know me. Not afraid to work for what I want.” My gaze flits over to Griffin, who stiffens, his scowl only deepening even though I didn’t think that was possible.
“I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes twinkle.
Earlier today, I told her my plans about starting some sort of racehorse rescue or rehabilitation program after I finish vet school. Between Mira’s excitement for the idea and the votes of confidence from Griffin and his family, I’m feeling like this dream is possible. Like I really could do it, like I have a growing number of people in my life who genuinely want me to succeed. And that support warms me in a way I’ve spent years searching for.
