Drive Me Wild

by Melanie Harlow

  A laugh rumbled in his chest. “Sort of. Only not as gentle. I’m a little more aggressive about it.”

  Intrigued, I sat up and tossed the covers back. Gave him a devious smile. “Show me.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Show you?”

  “Yes.” I got on my knees and clasped my hands beneath my chin. “Please.”

  A slow, sexy smile came over his mouth. “You’re such a bad girl.”

  “I know.”

  Propping himself up on one elbow, he took his cock in his hand, his grip tight as he moved his fist along its length. “Guess you meant it when you said you liked watching me.”

  I nodded, wide-eyed as he began to move his body, thrusting slowly and rhythmically into his hand. His six-pack abs rippled. I might have whimpered.

  “I’m thinking about you,” he said, his voice gravelly and deep, his eyes moving over my naked body. “I’m thinking about the way you taste, the way you move, the way it feels to get inside you.”

  “Oh God,” I whispered, dying to touch him but not wanting to interrupt what was happening right in front of me. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. Instead, I spread my knees slightly, ran my hands up my inner thighs.

  “Fuck yes,” Griffin growled through clenched teeth. “Let me watch you. Make yourself come for me.”

  This was something I had never done before—never even thought about doing before—but I wasn’t the person I used to be. I felt braver with him. Unafraid to let him see me this way. I licked my fingertips, and his eyes followed my hand as I placed it between my thighs and began to rub my clit. The hum blossomed quickly beneath my touch.

  Watching me, Griffin gripped his cock tighter, jerked himself harder, rocked his hips faster. The muscles of his arms bulged and flexed. His breath came in low, hushed exhalations, which grew louder and closer together as his movement got more frantic.

  Mesmerized, I couldn’t even move my hand as I watched his orgasm unfold in front of me—his eyes closed, his jaw clenched, his entire body going still, and then with a few final, uncontrollable thrusts of his hips and pumps of his fist, he came onto his chest in long, pulsing streams.

  It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen—but also the most vulnerable. The most honest. The most intimate. His body was like a work of art. And to watch him take pleasure from it that way, with his own hand, right in front of me, knowing he wanted me to see him like this—it made my heart beat so hard, I thought it might burst out of my chest.

  “Fuck.” Opening his eyes, he regarded the mess on his torso and looked over at me. “You didn’t do it.”

  Guilty, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. You distracted me.”

  “That’s no excuse, but you can make it up to me in the shower.”

  “I can?”

  He carefully slipped out of bed without getting the sheets messy and held out his hand to me. “Come on, princess. Let’s get dirty before we get clean.”

  Smiling, I took his hand.

  Eventually, we made it into work, but I had trouble focusing. Mostly I just sat at the desk, staring into space. Thinking about this morning. Fanning myself with a supplier catalog. Dreading the arrival of those parts for my car.

  I felt like those repairs would signal the beginning of the end of something I wasn’t ready to let go of. I didn’t want to be dependent on Griffin, but I didn’t want to say goodbye either. I wished I knew what he was thinking, but I was too nervous to ask. I knew how he felt about relationships, and it didn’t seem fair to expect him to change for me.

  Cheyenne poked her head into the lobby around noon. “Hey, you.”

  I stopped fretting for a moment and smiled at her. “Hey.”

  “Wow, looking good in here. So much brighter,” she said, coming inside. “Those photos are going to look great.”

  “Thanks. I’m excited about them. And about the party. Did Griffin tell you I got him to agree to turn his vintage pickup into a photo booth for the day?”

  Cheyenne laughed. “Did you really? Gosh, he and my dad worked forever on that thing.”

  “He told me about it. I think people would get a kick out of having their picture taken in it—and I convinced him to paint the new logo on the side.”

  “You’re a genius. Will there be food?”

  “Yes. I talked to the Bulldog Pub owner yesterday, and she’s all for collaborating. We’re thinking maybe a little stand selling sliders and fries out front.”

  “Wow. You’re putting a lot of effort into this.” She laughed. “Griffin really lucked out when you blew that tire.”

  “I’m enjoying it. I hope it makes a difference for the business.”

  “I’m sure it will. So do you have time for a quick lunch? Or does my brother keep you chained to the desk all day?”

  I shrugged. “I can probably take lunch now. I’m not getting that much work done today anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just . . . a lot on my mind, I guess.” I came out from behind the desk. “Let me go tell Griff. We usually have lunch together, so I’ll see if he wants me to bring him something.”

  Cheyenne tossed a hand in the air. “Invite him along if you’d like.”

  Griffin was under the hood of a sleek black Corvette. Seeing him at work, all dirty and sexy and hot, did a thing to my insides, and I felt my legs go a little wobbly as I got close to him. “Hey, you.”

  “What’s up?” He paused and looked up at me, bracing himself on the car’s frame.

  “Your sister is here asking if I want to have lunch with her.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Do you want to come with us?”

  “Nope.”

  “Can I bring you something back?”

  “Nah, that’s okay. I’ll just run upstairs and eat leftovers from last night.” He went back to what he was doing under the hood. “Say hi to Cheyenne for me.”

  “Okay.” I glanced around, scared to ask the question on my mind but wanting the answer. “Did the parts for my car come in?”

  “Not yet.”

  Relief flowed over me. “Okay. Maybe this afternoon or something.”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t look up. “But even if they did, I’m not sure I’d have time to do the work today. We’re a little busier in here this week than usual, and I want to make sure I have everyone’s work done when I said I would.”

  “Okay,” I said tentatively, wondering what that meant.

  “You might as well cancel the motel for tonight,” he went on. “And probably tomorrow night too. It’s game day. Realistically, I don’t think I’ll get to your car before the weekend.” He paused, finally looking over at me. “Is that okay?”

  I tried not to shriek with excitement. “Where will I stay?”

  “With me.” A slow, sexy grin tugged at his mouth. “And before you ask, yes—it’s what I want.”

  Feelings for him—huge, monster feelings—rushed through me. I jumped up and threw my arms around his neck, my feet leaving the floor. “It makes me so happy to hear you say that.”

  Laughing, he awkwardly patted my back. “You’re going to be filthy, Blair.”

  “I don’t care.” I closed my eyes and breathed him in—the usual sweat and motor oil, plus something uniquely him that made my nether regions tingle. But Cheyenne was waiting for me, so I let him go. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Okay.”

  As I turned and walked back to the lobby, I would have sworn my feet didn’t touch the ground.

  It was a gorgeous day—sunny and mild—so Cheyenne and I decided to take our sandwiches from the deli down to the waterfront park. As we walked, I told her about my phone call with Frannie and my interview on Saturday. “Thank you so much for putting us in touch,” I said. “I’m really excited to meet her.”

  “I’m glad, and you’re welcome. Maybe someday my mother will stop complaining to my father that I’ve ruined everything with you and Griffin.”

  I laughed. “Sorry about that.”

  “So wh
at’s the scoop with you two? Do you think you’ll keep seeing each other after you move?”

  “I don’t know. The truth is, I would like to, but I’m not sure he feels the same way.”

  “Have you asked him?”

  I shook my head. “No. I feel weird about it. He’s so adamant about his rules and his independence. He made it pretty clear up front he is not a relationship kind of guy. I’m afraid it would freak him out.”

  Cheyenne was silent for a moment. We reached the park adjacent to the harbor and took a seat on a bench in the shade. “What about you?” she asked as we unwrapped our sandwiches. “Are you looking for a committed relationship?”

  “Down the road, sure. But I wanted to get on my feet first, you know? Establish myself. But . . . meeting Griffin has changed things.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve just never met anyone like him. He’s a real man, with real problems, but he faces them. He works so damn hard every single day. He worries constantly about losing the business his father and grandfather built, and he’s willing to bust his ass to keep it. What he won’t do is lie or cheat or skimp. You have to admire that.”

  “He’s always been honest,” agreed Cheyenne. “And he does believe in hard work. Our dad was the same. Not a lazy bone in his body.”

  “And he’s been through a war, you know? That’s incredible to me. He served his country during a war.”

  “He sure did.” Cheyenne’s voice was proud. “And I bet he didn’t tell you about his Silver Star Medal.”

  “No. I don’t even know what that is,” I confessed.

  “It’s a medal he earned for heroism. He never talks about it, but it was a big deal in our family. It was the only time I ever saw my dad cry.”

  My own throat tightened. “He never told me about it. But that’s the kind of thing I mean. Most guys I knew in my past life couldn’t stop talking about themselves. Their money. Their cars. Their mutual funds. Their connections. And it’s all bullshit. None of it matters.”

  “Yeah, Griff’s a cocky bastard, but not in that way.” She laughed. “And he definitely doesn’t have any mutual funds.”

  “He doesn’t need them. He has so much more to offer.” I sighed. “Plus he’s hot. Sorry—I know he’s your brother—but he’s really, really fucking hot.”

  “Ewwww.”

  “I know, I know. I’ll spare you the details. But he’s got that body, and those eyes, and those big hands, and he’s so generous. He knows exactly how to—”

  “I thought you were sparing me the details,” Cheyenne said, holding up a hand.

  I laughed. “Sorry. I get carried away thinking about him.”

  “I can tell.”

  We ate in silence for a few minutes. Then she said something that surprised me.

  “Griffin has a really big heart. He doesn’t show it to everyone, and God knows he can be a stubborn, temperamental asshole, but underneath that tough exterior, I agree with you. He’s one of the good guys. He just doesn’t let people in very easily.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t know if it was what happened with Kayla or my dad dying or what, but he sort of shut down after all that.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “I’ve watched him grow more and more closed off over the last few years, almost like he’s scared to feel things.”

  I took a bite of my wrap without tasting it.

  “But he’s definitely different with you.”

  I swallowed so quickly I almost choked. “What?”

  “He’s different with you. In the last week, I’ve seen him laugh more than he has all year. And smile more. And I can see the way he treats you—all hovering and protective. I mean, inviting you to stay at his apartment like that? It’s insane!”

  “He just asked me to stay a few more days,” I confessed. “He said even if the parts for my car arrive today as expected, he won’t have time to work on it.”

  “See? He would never do that for anyone else. He’d bust his ass to get that car fixed and have his place to himself again. You’re special to him.” She laughed. “No wonder my mother is so upset you’re leaving.”

  “I’m not going that far,” I said, my heart thumping joyfully at everything she was saying. But was it true?

  We finished our lunches, watching kids on the playground equipment and moms pushing strollers and boats moving in and out of the harbor. Several people stopped to say hello to Cheyenne and ask after Darlene, or introduce themselves to me and say they’d heard great things about my baking, and a couple kids shyly approached “Miss Dempsey” and said they hoped she’d be their teacher next year.

  “This really is a sweet little town,” I said, sticking my napkin and sandwich wrapper in the bag.

  Cheyenne nodded. “It is. I mean, you do get sick of the same people all the time when you’re young, and I definitely couldn’t wait to go off to college and travel and make new friends. I wasn’t even sure I’d come back.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “But by the time I was ready to find a job and pick a place to live, I missed it. And I couldn’t imagine finding anywhere else that would really feel like home. I just feel . . . right in my skin here, you know? It’s peaceful. It’s friendly. It’s safe.”

  I nudged her foot with mine. “And the law enforcement is especially good-looking.”

  She sighed. “It really is.”

  “I still think you should ask him out,” I said as we started walking back up Main Street.

  “No way. I’m too scared.”

  “Even if it’s just as friends,” I said. “Come on, you two have known each other for so long. And I bet he’s lonely sometimes. Couldn’t you just go have dinner or something?”

  “Sure we could.”

  “So ask him. I bet he’d say yes.”

  “He probably would. It’s not the asking I’m afraid of.”

  I looked over at her. “Then what is it?”

  “Falling in love with someone I can’t have,” she said, “someone that can never belong to me. If we start spending time together, even if it’s just as friends, I know I’ll be head over heels in no time at all. I know I’ll give in if he just wanted sex with no strings attached. I know I’ll wind up crying in my pillow just like I did when I was fourteen. Remember that scene in Grease when Olivia Newton-John sings Hopelessly Devoted to You while imagining John Travolta’s face in that stupid pond?”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying not to laugh.

  “Well, that was pretty much me all through high school. I don’t want to go back there.” She shook her head as we crossed a side street. “It’s bad enough I’m twenty-nine years old, living next door to him again, sleeping in my old bed and having all the same stupid dreams I had about him back then. It’s like I’m stuck in this loop and can’t get out.”

  “I’m sorry.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “It’s okay. I appreciate the encouragement, but I should really move on. What’s the use of wanting something you can’t have?”

  Her question stuck in my head.

  I thought about it that night when Griffin cleared space in his bedroom closet for me and watched me hang up some dresses. I thought about it Thursday evening as I cheered on his team during another big win, wearing his Bulldogs shirt from last year. I thought about it on Friday morning when the new furniture arrived and we set it up in the lobby together, and later that afternoon when we hung the canvas prints of his family on the walls. He looked at the photo of him and his dad for several minutes, saying nothing.

  “You look like him,” I said. “Which is a compliment, because he’s very handsome.” It was the truth. Hank Dempsey’s good looks were a little darker than Griffin’s—although I could see where Cheyenne had gotten her wide brown eyes and full black lashes—but the bone structure was eerily similar. The cut of the jaw, the strong nose, the wide mouth.

  Griffin put his arms around me. “He’d have liked you.”


  “You think so?” My heart warmed at the compliment.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re genuine.”

  Tipping my head back, I smiled up at him. “Keep going.”

  He laughed. “You’re beautiful. You’re sweet. You’re funny. Even though half the time it’s unintentional.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  “You work hard. You smell good all the time. And you’ve got this bottom lip that drives me wild.” He took it between his teeth and gave it a tug.

  “I don’t think your dad would have cared about my bottom lip.”

  “But I do.”

  With my arms around his waist and my eyes closed, I pressed my cheek to his warm, broad chest and tried very hard not to feel like I was falling for someone that would never belong to me.

  Sixteen

  Griffin

  Early Friday morning, a car was towed to the garage with a dead battery. We weren’t too busy, so I went into the lobby to get Blair.

  “Time for a lesson,” I told her. “Go upstairs and put on something grubby.”

  She touched her chest, looking slightly offended. “I don’t own anything grubby.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do you have a pair of jeans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, put them on and take a T-shirt from my dresser to wear over it. Make sure to put your hair back too, and meet me out in the lot in ten minutes.”

  She stood up and saluted me. “Yes, sir.”

  Ten minutes later, she came trotting out to the lot. “Okay, boss, I’m ready.”

  I took one look at her and started to laugh. She’d traded her usual sundress for a pair of baggy jeans, which were cuffed at the ankle, and one of my T-shirts, which was knotted at her waist. On her feet were a pair of pristine white sneakers, and her ponytail was pulled through the back of a Bellamy Creek Garage baseball cap.

  “What’s funny?” she asked, looking down at her outfit.

  “Nothing,” I said. “It’s just, you look like Auto Repair Barbie or something.”