Griffin

by Marie James

  “Let them handle this,” the guy says, and I realize it’s Tug when I turn to see who still has a hold on me. “He could’ve hurt you.”

  “He wouldn’t,” I counter as several guys crowd around Griffin. His head just lolls to the side, and the sight of it makes my stomach turn. “What did you do to him?”

  They all seem too calm for him to be dead or seriously hurt, but that doesn’t keep my hands from trembling when I reach for his hand.

  “It’s a sedative,” Jameson answers. “We have to use them sometimes when a victim’s behavior is compromising a mission.”

  “Enough,” my dad says as he steps into the pool area.

  Jameson’s jaw snaps shut, and I feel Tug stiffen beside me.

  “Can we leave his integrity intact, please? Let’s get him inside. His room is best. He’ll need something familiar when he wakes up. It’ll ease the paranoia.” My dad directs the guys with the skill of a man leading an entire army of soldiers. They move as one, the weight of Griffin doesn’t even cause them to strain at the effort.

  “Where are you going, young lady?” My dad’s voice stops me in my tracks before I can follow the men carrying Griffin into his parents’ home.

  When I turn to face my father, I can tell he isn’t angry, but he isn’t happy with my line of thinking either.

  “You just said he needs something familiar.” I press my palm to my sternum. “I’m familiar to him. If I’m there when he wakes up, it’ll be better for him.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s hallucinating, and he’s dangero—”

  “I’m not asking,” I interrupt. My teeth dig into my lower lip when my dad’s head snaps back like I’ve slapped him. I’ve never spoken to my father in that tone, but I won’t back down. “You wouldn’t walk away from mom if she were in this situation, and you know she wouldn’t leave you alone.”

  “The difference is that we lov—”

  I hold my hand up to interrupt again. “There is no difference.”

  He seems even more shocked now, his eyes going wide as they look from my face to the door where the men disappeared with Griffin, and I realize I all but told my dad I love Griffin Griggs.

  “Ivy.” His head shakes back and forth, and I can’t tell if he’s rejecting my claim or trying to come to terms with it.

  ”Daddy, please,” I beg. “He needs me.”

  A small frown plays at his lips, but then his head dips in agreement. I don’t stick around and wait for him to change his mind. I don’t bother to knock on the back door when I enter the Griggs’s home either.

  “Ivy.” The sad voice of Griffin’s mother does force me to pause, however.

  “Misty?” When I turn, I find her shoving things in a canvas bag.

  “Shadow said you'd need these.” I grin as she hands me the strap to the bag. I love that even though everyone calls him by his first name, many people still slip and call him by his club name. It’s the same with my dad and the other guys around here, a reminder that even though they’re older and now parents, they hold other roles as well.

  “How did he know I was going to insist on being up there?” I was ready to argue for my place by his side. This all seems too easy.

  She gives me a soft, knowing grin. “He’s detoxing from the liquor. It’s making him angry and paranoid. We heard him throwing up almost all night, but there could still be a few days of this. There’re snacks, bottled water, and Tylenol for the headache he’s sure to have when he wakes up. I won’t be surprised if he refuses to let you leave, so be prepared for that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She touches my hand gently. “I always hoped it would be you.”

  I don’t argue with her, but she seems to think she knows more about this situation than even I do, so I just give her a quick grin before heading up the stairs and right into the room I haven’t been in for years. The only time I did sneak in here was right after Griffin left for the Corps, and I was missing him terribly.

  Griffin is situated on the bed as best as the guys could get him, but the angle of his body still looks awkward.

  “He’ll be out for a couple of hours,” Morrison says when he notices me hovering in the doorway. “Let’s go guys.”

  “Wait,” I hold them off with an upheld hand. “Straighten him out. He’ll be in pain if he lays like that for any period of time.”

  Morrison chuckles at my command, but he turns and urges the guys to straighten his son out. Once he’s straighter, they all exit.

  “He’s lucky to have you,” his dad says before he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter 27

  Griffin

  I’m cocooned in warmth, the scent of Ivy’s skin the only thing I can smell when I wake. Her warm body rests against mine, half on top of me, half on the bed, and I want nothing more than for her to blanket me with every inch possible. Tugging her leg by the back of her thigh, I urge her closer.

  “Shh,” she coos, and just the softness of her voice settles me enough to drag me back under.

  The next time my eyes flutter, darkness fills the room, and my angel is no longer within my grasp.

  I find I’m unreasonably agitated with her absence.

  “I’m here,” she assures me, the softness of her hand caressing my cheek until my nerves settle once again. “I’m here.”

  Too heavy to stay open, my eyes close once again. Even though exhaustion weighs down every bone in my body, I make every effort to pull her closer. Her melodic chuckle as she climbs in bed beside me is all it takes for my nerves to calm enough to return to sleep.

  “You smell so good,” I whisper when I wake refreshed. It’s still dark outside, and I have no idea how much time has passed, but the brush of her body against mine is more than I have a right to ask for.

  “I need you to drink some water,” she says, making me realize her lips are in direct contact with my chest. The moist heat of her breath washes over my skin, and I pray that she doesn’t notice what it does to me below.

  “Your dad figured you’d have a headache,” she continues.

  “I’m fine.” It’s a lie. My throat is on fire, my mouth is a desert, and I feel like a ten-piece band is performing in my skull. “Just lay with me for a while.”

  “We’ve been in here for the last day and a half.”

  I should be shocked at the loss of time, but it isn’t the first time I blacked out and lost a day. My body feels the truth in her words because I’m stiff, achy, and my stomach is either turning from lack of food or too much alcohol.

  The latter is more likely, or a combination of the two.

  “Your dad must be wondering where you are.” I smile and press my lips to the top of her head. “I wish I could remember being with you. Getting my ass kicked for something I have no memory of doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Do you really think I’d sleep with you while you were unconscious?”

  “What? No, but I—”

  “You don’t remember any of it?”

  Oh shit. What did I say? What did I do? It couldn’t have been too bad if she’s still here with me, still pressed against my chest and feeling ten kinds of amazing.

  Squeezing my eyes tight, I try my best to remember what happened, but I’m only getting flashes. Even those tiny snippets seem hazed in fear and distrust. Heaven help me if I’m imagining her laying here with me. I hold her tighter on the off chance that she may slip away.

  “What happened?” I ask the question, but I don’t know if I’m ready for the answer.

  She must notice my distress because her hand swipes back and forth over my chest.

  “I was swimming.”

  “You were with another guy,” I recall.

  “I was with a lot of people,” she clarifies. “You came outside and thought I was in danger. The guys dosed you with something to knock you out.”

  I stiffen under her — just the thought of being helpless freaks me out. Anything could happen, and there wouldn
’t be a thing I could do about it.

  “You’re detoxing,” she continues. “I think you’re through the worst of it.”

  Refusing to release my hold on her, I use my free hand to scrub down my face. “I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.”

  It’s her turn to hold me tighter, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I know I don’t deserve her kindness. Not after the hateful things I’ve said and the way I’ve acted toward her since I’ve been home, but as always, she’s proving to be a much better person than I am.

  “We’ll just stay in here until your mind is clear then.”

  My mouth opens to tell her that it may never happen, that I’m haunted by my choices, but I snap it shut again. She wouldn’t be against me, letting me soak up everything good inside of her if she knew the truth. It kills me that I may only have her in my arms for a little while. Waking up with her here has made me realize this is exactly what I want for the rest of my life. Man, there is nothing like the affection of a good woman.

  “Here,” she says, pushing against my chest so she can sit up on the edge of the bed. “You need to drink.”

  “I’m not thirsty.” I can’t tell her how I suspect that the water has been poisoned, but when I see her grab an unopened bottle and let me twist the top off, I can see she’s more prepared than I gave her credit for.

  “Your dad has already threatened to put an IV in if I can’t get you to drink.”

  Happily, I take a long gulp. The water backs up in my throat from going so long without something to drink, and I nearly choke on it before it decides to go down correctly.

  “And here.” She hands me a packet of pain relievers, the kind you’d get individually from a convenience store.

  With a quick thank you, I take the packet, ripping the top and dumping them in my mouth.

  “I also have snacks.”

  As I continue to drink the bottle of water, she lays out numerous packs of chips, candy bars, and beef jerky. I scoop up the jerky because I know I need the protein while she grabs a dark chocolate almond bar.

  “You still eat those?” It’s a dumb question because it’s clear she does, but it’s also the safest thing I can discuss right now. Mentioning her mouth and those perfect lips of hers may alienate her, and that’s the last damn thing I want.

  “I treat myself every once in a while. Melissa told me months ago that eating tons of candy will eventually make me fat, so I’ve cut back a lot.”

  “You’re perfect.” I punctuate my statement by running my hand up her bare leg. Goosebumps chase the trail of my fingers, and my teeth dig into my lower lip. “So perfect.”

  “Griffin?” She’s breathless, and when I look up at her face, I see she’s hyper-focused on my fingers as they toy with the hem of her blue jean shorts.

  “You’re the only one that cares about me,” I confess, my fingers still against her skin, trembling with the need to go higher, but afraid of scaring her off.

  “That’s not true.” My hands flex, and from the whimper leaving her lips, I don’t think it’s painful to her.

  “You’re the only one who has been around since I got back.” I move my hand another inch under the edge of her shorts.

  “Y-you can’t g-get mad when people do exactly what you told them to. You didn’t want them around, and they respected your wishes.”

  “You didn’t. You were there. No matter how crazy I got, you were there. You’re the only one here.” My eyes seek hers, and I’m lost. There’s no one else but this amazing woman. “You’ve been right in front of my eyes this entire time.”

  I feel like a fool as the realization hits me. It’s like the biggest ah-ha moment of my life, and just my damn luck that it’s happening while we’re practically quarantined because I’ve spent the last couple of weeks drinking myself into permanent liver damage.

  “Griffin.”

  Her delicate throat works on a swallow, and it makes me wonder if she can feel the electricity jolting between us right now. She’s probably said my name hundreds of times, but just now it’s as if it’s backed by the choir of a thousand angels.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  Her eyes glisten, tears pooling on her lower lashes as I reach for her. My fingers tease the hairs that have escaped from her disheveled ponytail at the base of her neck.

  “I don’t know what’s happening right now.” There’s a dose of pain I’m sure I deserve in her voice. I have no idea how to calm her fears. I don’t want to make promises I may not be able to keep; promises she may not even want to hold me accountable for when she hears my truth.

  “Just follow my lead,” I whisper as I lean in closer.

  Her hand grasps my shoulder, but rather than pushing me away, I feel her fingers dig into my flesh and tug me closer. My lips skate along the column of her neck since I’m all too aware I’ve been laying in this bed for a day and a half, and I’m in desperate need of a shower.

  “Jesus, you smell amazing.” My cock throbs, but I do my best to ignore the urge to relocate her hand from my shoulder to a few feet further south. I need her in the worst way, but moving too fast would only ruin things.

  “I sh-showered while you were asleep.”

  I groan when my dick likes the idea of her being naked in my bathroom. As a teenager, I fantasized about dozens of women alone with me in this room, but she’s the only one who has actually been in here. My parents would’ve had a coronary if I ever attempted to bring a chick up here.

  “Don’t tell me things like that, Ivy,” I chastise. “My body can’t handle the thought of you naked in my room.”

  “Naked?” Her chuckle turns into a moan when my teeth nip the softness of her earlobe. “Who said anything about being naked? Maybe I kept my bra and panties on?”

  “That’s worse,” I admit, loving the way panties sounds so innocent and new coming from her lips. “Come here.”

  Surprisingly, she follows without protest when I lean back against the headboard and pull her on top of me. Even though she’s straddling my hips, she remains virtuous by resting her weight on her knees.

  “Afraid to touch me?” I ask, my mouth once again finding that spot just below her ear that made her whimper just a moment ago.

  “Oh God,” she pants. “I don’t know what to do.”

  I swear my cock jolts toward the heat radiating from between her thighs. “Just do what feels natural.”

  With a hand on her lower back, I apply pressure, urging her to settle on top of me.

  “Are you sure we shou—” Her own moan interrupts her question when I flex my hips, sliding my length along the seam of her body.

  “Do you really want to stop?”

  Chapter 28

  Ivy

  No, I don’t want to stop. I don’t speak these words out loud, however.

  I don’t tell him that there’s an unfamiliar throbbing need low in my stomach that seems to be making my decisions for me right now. That tug, the one that seems to be somehow connected from my bellybutton to my sex, has a faint familiarity to it, but this is nothing like the urges I got when I watched that super sensual neck kissing video on social media a few years ago. It’s even stronger than the times I’ve touched myself.

  My cheeks flush in embarrassment just thinking about the handful of times when I was alone in the apartment, and I gave in to that voice in my head by meeting the need my body was demanding of me.

  “I can feel how hot you are through our clothes.” His teeth nip at my chin, but he only moves his mouth down the other side of my neck.

  Maybe kissing is too intimate for what he has planned?

  Maybe he was only saying those thing moments ago to get me in a position like I am now: stupid with need and unable to turn him down when he once again offers me his body instead of his heart.

  “Get out of your head, baby.”

  His breath is right against my ear, and I both hate and love that he seems to have direct access to my thoughts. On one side it’s
incredibly intrusive, but on the other at least he can read me well enough that I don’t always have to say embarrassing things out loud.

  “I just need a shower and a toothbrush. As much as I want to lick every single inch of your body, it won’t be as pleasurable an experience for you until I’m clean.” He flexes his hips under me once again, and I see stars.

  “I don’t mind,” I tell him, somehow gaining bravery I’ve never felt before. I rotate my body from my navel to my thighs, brushing up and down the length of him.

  “Fuck,” he grunts, his hands once again finding my hips. “You need to quit that.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but one second I’m on his lap preparing to move against him once more and the next I’m flat on my back on his bed. I grin up at him, anticipating him covering my body with his, much like I dreamed about last night while he was still asleep, but he doesn’t do what I expect. Rather, he climbs off the bed and looks down at me.

  “I’ve never been more tempted to climb back into a bed in all my life.”

  I don’t know what his expectations of saying that were, but his eyes narrow when my lips turn down in a frown. Maybe it’s the rejection or the hint of him climbing into other women’s beds, possibly a combination of the two, but he doesn’t get the reaction from me he expects.

  “Hey.” His voice softens as he leans over me, but I refuse to meet his eyes.

  “You make me crazy,” I admit. “Like stupid and possessive, and pouty. I’m not a pouty girl, but there’s just something about you that makes me—”

  His lips cover mine before I can finish. The brush of his tongue against mine and the grip of his fingers on my thigh as he settles on top of me make my brain shut down. I’m a whimpering mess by the time he pulls away only to look down at me with mirth.

  “I feel exactly the same way. I saw red when I walked into Jake’s to find Jared with his mouth and hands on you.” He squeezes his eyes shut, head shaking back and forth as if he’s trying to break up the vision in his mind. “I could’ve killed him for touching what belongs to me.”