Almost Fate

by Kylie Gilmore

  Laila sat down on the sofa with a thunk. “I thought he died penniless.”

  “That he did. But he took out a life-insurance policy ten years ago and named you as the sole beneficiary.” She pulled a thick envelope from her purse and handed it over. “He left you five hundred thousand.”

  Laila opened the envelope with a shaking hand, quickly scanning the policy. Whoa. This was enough money for a fresh start anywhere in the world. Enough to buy a house of her own. Decorate it however she wanted, maybe even have a yard with a dog. Her current apartment didn’t allow pets.

  Her mom went on, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “His friend, Mike, said that he wanted to do right by you in death. Even if he had nothing to give you in life.”

  Tears stung her eyes. If only her dad had understood she just wanted him, not money. She never cared that much about money. Music was her passion. The only thing that ever really mattered to her. And that was all because of him.

  Of course, she wouldn’t say no to money, either. She was a little too familiar with the end-of-the-month lack of funds before the next paycheck.

  “Are you going to give your brother his share?” her mom asked.

  Her hand tightened on the papers. “Share?”

  “It just seems like the right thing to do. I don’t know why he wasn’t included, but usually you leave an inheritance to all of your children equally.”

  “Maybe he knew Griff didn’t need the money.” Her brother was a superstar.

  Her mom stood and pursed her lips. “Well, of course, you need to do what you feel is right.”

  She left in a hurry, leaving Laila sitting there, her thoughts ping-ponging all over the place. What was the right thing to do? If she told Griffin about the money, would he feel hurt that he’d been left out of the only inheritance their dad had? She sure would. But if she didn’t tell him, was she cheating him out of his rightful inheritance? After all, he was the oldest, he should’ve rightfully inherited something.

  She didn’t know what to do, so she did what she always did in difficult situations—hid it away to be dealt with later.

  Chapter Six

  Christina speared another forkful of chicken pot pie. “The food is wonderful. Thanks so much for bringing it.”

  “You’re welcome,” Laila murmured from where she sat across the table in the kitchen of their new rental. “It’s from the diner where I work.”

  Something was up with her, Christina thought. She seemed docile and withdrawn all through dinner, not at all the fierce, fiery woman she’d been earlier in the day.

  “I’m thinking after the concert, we should have people come back here to party,” Griff said after finishing his order of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and string beans.

  “You want to invite everyone from the concert?” Christina asked. “I don’t think we can all fit.”

  “Nah,” Griff said. “Just some VIPs. Maybe give my old bandmates a call. Laila, of course.”

  Laila brightened at this.

  “Musician friends only,” Griff said. “I want to hang with people who feel the music. Maybe we can get Laila to jam with us on her guitar.”

  Christina turned to Laila. “I’d love to hear you play.”

  Laila shook her head. “I’m not any good.”

  Griff put up a hand. “Don’t listen to her, Chris. She’s got music in her blood.”

  Laila blushed furiously and stood abruptly, leaving half her chicken pot pie on the plate. “I should get going. I’ll leave you two alone.”

  “We’ll talk,” Christina said. “Soon, okay?”

  Laila backed out of the room, whirled, and headed out the door. “Bye!”

  Christina turned to Griff. “Did she seem different to you?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe she’s tired. It’s only been a day since the funeral.”

  True. “She any good?”

  “Yeah, she’s good. She’s got an ear, talent, passion. Just no confidence. A musician who doesn’t play is one miserable son of a bitch.”

  “You’ll set her straight. Maybe you can get her to join you in a song at the concert.”

  “Yeah.”

  She studied him for a moment, a little surprised at how quiet he’d been about his dad passing considering how deeply he felt most things. “How’re you doing? You okay after the funeral?”

  He blew out a breath. “I’m kinda numb. I don’t think it’s really hit me yet.”

  Christina stood and crossed to his side of the table, running her fingers through the silky black hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m here for you.”

  “I don’t want to think about that right now. I just want to be with you.” He stood and pulled her close, running his hands from the outside of her legs, over her hips, stopping to rest on her waist. “I love when you wear these thin, tight little pants.”

  She smiled. “Leggings.” She always wore black leggings with her oversized purple sweater.

  “Leggings,” he repeated and lifted her. She immediately wrapped her arms and legs around him, dinner forgotten. His warm lips grazed against hers as he spoke. “So…is this the part where we have makeup sex?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  She kissed him passionately. He turned so her back was against the wall, continuing their kiss, the hard planes of his body pressing against her. She moaned in the back of her throat.

  He lifted his head. “Too many windows here.” He headed upstairs, still carrying her plastered to his front. “I missed you, crazy thing,” he murmured.

  She ran her hands through his silky black hair. “I missed you like crazy.”

  They got to the master bedroom, a huge king-size bed already made up for them. Griff laid her down on the bed, kicked off his shoes, and slowly climbed on top of her before kissing her long and deep. He was a thorough lover, never in a rush, always savoring their time together. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he settled between her legs. They kissed for a long time before he shifted to kiss her jawline, her throat, up to her ear. She ran her hands down his back and started tugging his T-shirt up.

  He spoke in a low tone near her ear. “What did you decide?”

  “Hmm…” She slipped her hands under his shirt and over his muscular back, loving the heat and strength of him.

  “You said you needed time to think about us.” He stroked her hair back from her face in a tender gesture. “What did you decide?”

  She met his soulful hazel eyes. “I decided I want to be with you. I don’t care about having a normal life.”

  “You know what, babe? It’s okay. I don’t need you to give me family. I’ve got Laila now.” He moved to her neck, and she stiffened. He raised his head. “What’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean ‘I’ve got Laila now’?”

  “I’ve got family. That’s all I need. We don’t have to get married, kids, the whole family thing.”

  “So that’s it? You have a sister and now you don’t need a wife?”

  “What’re you getting so mad about? I thought you said we didn’t need a piece of paper.”

  She turned her head away. What was wrong with her? She had said that, and up until this very minute when Griff had let her off the hook, she was sure that them getting married would be a huge mistake. But some part of her felt a huge loss.

  She pushed at his chest. “Let me up.”

  He rolled off her. “I’m confused.”

  She rolled out of bed and stood. “Me too.”

  “Should we, uh, talk about it?”

  She pressed a hand to her forehead. It was sweet that he wanted to talk it out, but her emotions were in such a tangle she didn’t even know what to say. “Maybe later.”

  He stood and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “You’re not going to leave me like this, are you? I’m getting flashbacks to the year of blueballs you put me through when we were just friends.”

  She couldn’t even laugh. She pulled away and made a quick exit. His loud groan of frustration
followed her into the hallway.

  ~ ~ ~

  Griffin tried to think cooling thoughts before he went downstairs for his guitar. Christina was sitting at the kitchen table, her back to him, staring out the back patio door into the night. He couldn’t win with her. First she was pulling away because he wanted to marry her, and now she was pulling away because he didn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to anymore, but he didn’t feel like it was this urgent thing. Not like he had before when he didn’t have a family to pass his legacy on to. Now he had Laila. She was eager to learn and had already picked up a few new riffs he’d taught her.

  At least if he was going to have all this pent-up desire and frustration, he could put it to good use. He sat in the quiet living room and played, pouring himself into the music, and somewhere between the dead of night and the first rays of dawn, the finality of his father’s death hit him. He played through it, tears streaming down his face, until he had nothing left. He set his guitar back in its case, went upstairs, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  He woke at noon to an empty bed and sat up. “Chris?”

  “Downstairs,” she called. At least she hadn’t left.

  “Grabbing a shower,” he hollered back.

  After his shower, he headed downstairs, where Christina was sitting on the sofa with her cell phone, dressed and looking well rested. That made one of them. He’d slept restlessly, not liking the uncertainty between them and especially not liking them not sleeping together.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I worked out some stuff in the music. About my dad.”

  “Good, that’s good.”

  He headed to the kitchen, hoping for some coffee, and found a pot already made for him.

  “Ellie keeps putting out stories that you have another woman on the side,” she informed him. “Pretty big news after the party proposal.”

  “Great,” he mumbled. Ellie was the reporter from Savage Release he’d been avoiding. He poured himself some coffee, took a fortifying sip, and turned back to the woman he loved. “You set Ellie straight?”

  Her lips formed a flat line. “She sent me a picture of you backstage at your Kentucky concert. There’s a woman in your lap and you’re smiling at her. I had food poisoning that night.”

  He shook his head. Women were always throwing themselves at him. She knew it didn’t mean anything. “Come on. You know me better than that.”

  “Do I?” she asked in a quiet voice that scared the hell out of him. “I didn’t know about your dad, I didn’t know you came out here for the funeral, I didn’t know about your half sister—”

  “I didn’t know about her either!”

  She stared at her hands gripped together tightly in her lap. “I guess I don’t trust you.”

  He slapped a hand on the counter. “I knew it! I knew you didn’t trust me. Three years together and still—”

  “I know. It’s not just you. It’s me and my ex. He ran around on me for years and I turned a blind eye. I don’t want to be like that with you. I want to keep my eyes wide open.”

  He crossed to her. “I want that too. I have nothing to hide. Sometimes women throw themselves at me. But it’s not me they want. It’s rock-star me. You have the real me.”

  She snorted. “You’re rock star most of the time.”

  He sat next to her and put a hand on her leg. “Not with you. You get the real me, whether you like it or not.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “So where does that leave us?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly.

  He sucked in air. “Will you stick around to find out?”

  Christina swallowed visibly. “I’ll try.”

  “Dammit, Chris! That’s not good enough.”

  “What do you want from me?” she cried.

  “I want you to love me as much as I love you.”

  “I do!”

  “Then why does it feel like you’re about to break up with me?”

  She took a deep breath. “Look, we’ve both been through a lot lately. Let’s just…go back to the way things were. Can we do that?”

  Griffin narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, we can do that,” he said slowly. “Let’s go.”

  She looked up at him, confused. “Go where?”

  “Back to the way things were,” he said before grabbing her and tossing her over his shoulder.

  “Griff!”

  “You owe me a screaming orgasm,” he said and headed upstairs. Enough of this talking shit. It was time for some hard-core action.

  ~ ~ ~

  Only Griff had ever gotten Christina to the point of a screaming orgasm. It took everything out of her, left her limp and thoroughly satiated. He’d been extra tender in their lovemaking over the last couple of months while he’d been in family-man mode. Maybe this meant he really was ready to go back to the way things were.

  “Okay,” she said quietly.

  He grunted. Oh, man, she loved when he went all alpha on her.

  As soon as they got to the bedroom, he set her back on her feet. They took one look at each other and slammed together. His mouth claimed hers as his hands roamed all over her body. She pulled at his T-shirt and he peeled it off, tossing it to the side. Her heart kicked up a notch at the view—muscular pecs, broad shoulders, arms sculpted with muscle and covered in tattoos. He looked every bit the badass rocker, but with the added bonus of a tender streak. He peeled off her sweater and made short work of the bra.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, gazing at her breasts. He always made her feel beautiful, had from the first time they made love, making it easy for her to drop her insecurities about the other women he’d slept with. And, as she’d discovered after their first marathon sex session, his experience was only to her benefit. He’d shown her what her body was capable of, the kinds of ecstasy she’d never in her life experienced before, and heightened the excitement with his varying approaches, sometimes slow and tender with her, sometimes rough and demanding, always with her pleasure at the center of everything he did. He knew when to push her and when to pull back, in tune with her body like no man had ever been before. He played her like his instrument.

  He pushed her down on the bed and joined her, lying on his side, kissing her hard, his tongue thrusting inside. He finally let her up for air and kissed his way down her throat to her breast, taking a hard nipple into his mouth and suckling deeply, causing a tightening in her womb.

  “Griff,” she gasped, “take me.” She grabbed him, needing that connection again, needing that closeness. He ignored her grabbing hands and took his time, using his tongue and teeth on her breast, bringing her to a throbbing, aching state before moving to the other breast. Finally he lifted his head and gave her a hot look. She lifted her hips, needing his touch, needing more of him, but he was not a man who could be hurried. He started kissing her neck. She groaned in frustration.

  He rose up and nipped her bottom lip. “I love making you crazed, crazy thing,” he growled in her ear.

  She dug her nails into his back. He pinned her hands to the mattress on either side of her head. “Watch those claws.”

  “Griff, I want you. I missed you so much.”

  “You’ll have me. But first I need you crazed.” He palmed her breast, strumming his calloused finger over the rigid point. “I love to play your body,” he said, before he used both hands to strum over her hard nipples.

  He played her like his guitar, building her to a crescendo in time to a rhythm that he set. But she was in no mood to be played with. Not after everything they’d been through these past few days.

  She grabbed for the button on his jeans. “Get these off.”

  “First I’m going to get you off,” he said, the words a dark promise as he kissed his way down her body. His scruffy jaw scraped against her delicate skin, his hot mouth and tongue soothing and exciting her at the same time. His thumbs hooked under the waistband of her jeans, his fingers running along the inside of them,
but not touching her where she needed him most.

  She undid her jeans herself and slid them down. Then she peeled off her panties and opened her legs to him in invitation. She was on the pill, so he didn’t have to wait. Still he played with her. His fingers trailing lazily down her stomach, inching lower, lower still. She lifted her hips in silent invitation, but then his fingers trailed sideways, avoiding where she throbbed for him, and stroked her inner thigh. She whimpered as his hot mouth kissed along her inner thigh.

  He moved his hand suddenly, cupping her sex, making her nearly dizzy with relief. He stroked her lazily, making her moan before his calloused finger strummed her slowly and softly, then quicker and harder, bringing her right to the edge before slowing things down again. She knew when he got like this there was no moving him along. She’d tried everything before from begging to moaning to aggressively biting and grabbing at him. Nothing moved Griff until he wanted to move.

  “Please, Griff, please,” she begged despite herself.

  He gave her a wicked smile, licking his lips.

  “Oh, fuck,” she muttered before his mouth closed over her hard nub, his tongue playing with her in the rhythm that he set, slow and easy and overwhelming. He slid his hands under her bottom, holding her right where he wanted her as he lapped at her. Before long, she was moving right along with his rhythm, her hips rocking of their own accord as he made her crazy with his lips and tongue and teeth. She tensed as the orgasm snuck up on her suddenly, and then she broke, rocking helplessly against his mouth.

  He lifted his head and stroked her lazily with one finger, making her jolt. “That didn’t sound crazed enough,” he said. “Let’s hear you scream.”

  She trembled in anticipation. He strummed her soft and slow again, bringing all new waves of pleasure to her body all the way down to her toes. And just when she closed her eyes, floating in that wonderfully sweet spot of gentle pleasure, his mouth took over, hot and demanding, sucking her hard. She exploded with a harsh cry. He grunted in approval. Then he flipped her over, banded his arm around her waist and pulled her up, open to him. She rested her cheek on the mattress, light-headed from the quick movement, still lost in sensation.