I moved my feet.
He walked around me, so that he was standing next to the gun. “Okay, you want to use the pad of your forefinger to push the trigger, not this inside knuckle. You see what I’m saying?”
I moved my finger and ran it over the trigger.
“Exactly like that,” he said. “Now take your finger off the trigger.”
I did.
“You see the target?” he asked.
The target was an empty marshmallow vodka bottle. I thought we were being a tad ambitious with something so small, but Griffin thought otherwise.
“Okay, you’ve got three posts to line up. Those are your sights. You see what I’m talking about?”
“Yeah.”
“The front post needs to be horizontally centered and vertically level with the rear posts. You line up the front post with the target, you line up the rear posts on either side of the front post, you look back at the front post, and then you pull the trigger.”
I bit my lip. “Um.”
“Try it,” he said. “Don’t pull the trigger. Just try lining up the posts.”
Once I had the gun aimed at the bottle, I saw what he was saying. Looking down the barrel, I could see the three sight posts. I did what he had advised. “Okay, I think I understand.”
“One more thing,” he said. “You’re holding your breath. You don’t want to do that. You want your body loose and relaxed. Breathe through it.”
I nodded.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Give it a shot.”
I squared my shoulders, took deep breaths, put the pad of my finger on the trigger, lined up my sights, and squeezed the trigger of the gun.
It kicked in my hands, I nearly dropped it. “Jesus!”
Griffin laughed at me.
“You could have warned me it was going to do that!”
“I thought you knew,” he said, still laughing. “I’m sorry.”
I peered at the intact vodka bottle. “I didn’t even come close, did I? I told you I wouldn’t be any good at this.”
“Loosen up. It was your first try. If you did well the first try out, you’d be exceptional. Practice, doll.”
My shoulders slumped.
We practiced.
Eventually, I did start shattering vodka bottles. My ratio wasn’t exactly great, though. I think I missed more than I hit. But Griffin said I was improving, and that was all that was important.
*
Saturday night was my one-month sober party at Stacey’s place. I was excited about it, even though she’d invited all these people who I didn’t know from other NA meetings. She said it would be cool for me to meet other addicts. I was a little nervous. I used to be really good at meeting people, but I didn’t know if I still was. How much of that had been me, and how much of it had been cocaine?
The morning of the party, I woke up alone in bed, which was strange, because I’d gone to sleep snuggled up against Griffin. We’d been sleeping in the same bed ever since camping, but we still weren’t doing the deed, just messing around. And he still wasn’t letting me touch him much. I knew Stacey was right, and I was going to have to talk to him about it, but I hadn’t. I couldn’t figure out quite how to bring it up. And it wasn’t as if things were going so badly, anyway. Griffin seemed happy, and he was making me very happy.
I got out of bed, put on some slippers, and padded out into the kitchen, where Griffin was busy dicing potatoes on the kitchen counter.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Well, I was going to make you breakfast in bed,” he said. “But you’re not in bed anymore.”
“Breakfast? You?” I said. “You cook?”
He grinned at me. “I cook quite well, thank you very much.”
“But why?”
“Because you’ve been sober for a month,” he said. “And I’m proud of you.”
“I could get back in bed,” I said.
*
I wound through bodies, my fingers entwined with Griffin’s, who was behind me.
His voice at my ear. “I don’t know about this, doll. I didn’t realize she was going to invite so many people. This isn’t cool.”
We were at Stacey’s house, and we’d arrived to find the party already in full swing. The driveway was glutted with cars. The house was packed full of people. As I’d predicted, I didn’t know any of them. “You think there are Op Wraith people here?”
“Probably not,” he said. “Probably I’m being paranoid and ruining your night.”
“It’s your job to be paranoid,” I said. “If you’re paranoid, I’m paranoid.”
He squeezed my hand. “You deserve to have fun.”
Stacey spotted me through the crowd. She was on the opposite side of the room, and she squealed. “You’re here, you’re here!”
I waved.
“Get your butt over here and have a Red Bull and vodka,” she said.
Griffin nudged me. “Go ahead. I’ll be watching.”
“But what if it isn’t safe?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Have fun. Go nuts. Let me worry about it.” He let go of my hand.
I walked across the room to Stacey. She handed me a drink, and raised her glass. “To one month sober!”
I clinked against her glass. “To one month!”
I sipped my drink. I wasn’t sure if I should get too drunk. I looked around for Griffin and saw him in the corner, his face blank, his eyes alert. He said I should have fun, right? I took another drink.
*
I yanked off my strappy shoes. “I can’t dance in these anymore!”
Stacey and I had been dancing in the middle of the living room for a long time. I’d had three drinks in that time, although I’d had to stop it with the Red Bull. It made me feel too cracked out now that I didn’t get amped on blow.
She pointed at me. “You took off your shoes.” She pointed at herself. “I’m going to take mine off too.” She pulled off her shoes and flung them at the far wall.
Giggling, I threw mine too.
A new song started on the stereo.
Stacey cheered. “I love this song.”
“Me too.”
We started to dance again. There were other people dancing too, but they gave us a wide enough berth that we had the center of the room to ourselves. Stacey was fond of shaking her hips and tossing her bright red hair. I was much more of a bouncing dancer. I was always bopping on my toes.
The song finished.
Stacey threw her arms around me. “I love you, Leigh. I’m so glad I met you.”
“I’m so glad I met you. You’re the best. I love you too,” I said. “Thank you for my party.”
“Are you having fun?”
“The most fun ever!”
“Do you need another drink?”
I considered. “Maybe. But first I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay,” she said. “Meet me in the kitchen, and I will make you a... what do you want?”
“Maybe just beer?”
“Just beer?” She shook her head. “We’ll talk about this when you get there. Go pee.”
I scampered out of the living room and down the hall in my bare feet. The bathroom was occupied, so I slouched against the wall across from the door and waited.
When the door opened, I was completely shocked to see Benton, my dealer from Morgantown, coming out of the bathroom.
He was surprised too. “Leigh? What are you doing here?”
“Um, this is my party,” I said. “What are you doing here? This is a sober party. I mean, no drugs.”
“Yeah,” he said. He dug something out of his pocket to hand to me.
I took it. It was a two-week-sober chip. “Oh. Congratulations.”
“I had to quit,” he said. “I was tweaking too much. I was sitting in my living room one day, and I’d been awake for like a week. And there were like, these men coming out the walls. They were trying to eat me. And no matter where I went, I couldn’t get away from them. And that was when I
was like, ‘Dude, I gotta get off this stuff.’ You know?”
“I think so,” I said. There was a reason I’d never gotten into meth.
“They call that, um, hitting bottom,” he said.
“Right,” I said. I nodded. “I’ve been there.”
“Anyway, I started going to meetings, and then that Stacey chick said she was throwing a party here in Thomas, and I figured it would be safer to hang out here than to be with the people that I used to party with all the time. So I came. Congrats on a month.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“So, uh, you don’t actually live in Morgantown, do you?” he said.
I was confused. Then I remembered the last conversation I’d had with him, when I’d lied to him about where I lived. Afterwards, the Op Wraith guy had shot me in the chest. My eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”
“Just curious,” he said.
“Did some men in black suits come to talk to you about me, Benton?”
He made a confused face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just wondering if you lived here, that was all.”
Maybe he hadn’t told the Op Wraith guys about me. Maybe that had all been a coincidence. “Yeah.” I pushed past him into the bathroom. “See you around, I guess.”
I wanted to tell Griffin about seeing Benton and get his opinion on whether or not it was something we should worry about. But Stacey intercepted me in the kitchen and talked me into having a pina colada or some coconut drink. It was really tasty.
Then we danced more.
By the time I got to see Griffin, it was hours later, I was pretty tipsy, and I had forgotten all about Benton.
The party was thinning out. I was sprawled on the couch in the living room, with Stacey next to me.
“I can’t find my shoes,” I said, staring at the ceiling.
Griffin appeared above me, dangling the shoes. “I got them.”
I sat up. “Oh, you’re awesome.”
“You are awesome, Griffin,” said Stacey. “And I’m so glad that I was right about the two of you. Wasn’t I right?”
“You were,” I said.
She pointed at Griffin. Stacey was a little bit tipsy too. “You were all, ‘It’s not going to happen, Stacey.’ And now look at the two of you. I am a matchmaker.”
Griffin laughed. “Yes, you’re on top of it. I admit I was wrong.”
“Good.” She sniffed, raising her chin.
I giggled.
“You ready to go home, doll?” asked Griffin.
I lifted up my arms to him. “Take me home.”
He handed me my shoes. “Hold these.” And then he reached down and picked me up.
I shrieked. “Put me down! Put me down now!”
Stacey laughed. “How come you never pick me up, Jack?”
“Because I’m a weakling,” came Jack’s voice from somewhere close by. I couldn’t actually see him because Griffin was in my way.
I was laughing. “Put me down, Griffin. I didn’t get to say goodbye to Stacey.”
He swung me around to face her. “Say goodbye.”
“I can’t hug her,” I protested.
Stacey waved. “Bye, Leigh. I’ll hug you tomorrow when you guys come over to help clean up. Which you’re going to do, right?”
“We are?” I said.
“Of course,” said Griffin.
He carried me all the way to the car.
*
“It’s just that I’ve been thinking,” I said to Griffin as I walked up the steps to my apartment. “And we need to talk about some stuff.”
He was behind me. “Maybe we should save the heavy topics for another time, doll. I doubt you’re in any condition for in-depth conversation right now.”
I was a wee bit on the drunk side, it was true. But it wasn’t making me think unclearly. It was making me feel more bold. And I needed courage to broach this topic with Griffin. “I have to talk about it now. If I don’t, I’ll never bring it up again because I’ll be too scared.”
“Okay, you’re making me nervous,” he said.
I opened the door and flicked on the light. “Don’t be nervous. It’s not bad.”
He shut the door after himself. “Isn’t it? Because I’ve never had a conversation that started out with, ‘We need to talk,’ that ended well.”
“It’s only that...” I twisted my hands together. “I want to make you feel as good as you make me. And you won’t let me, and I don’t know why.”
He drew a hand over his face. “Oh, doll.”
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think we should. Because I keep thinking about how much I want to touch you, and I want you to want me to do that too.”
He turned away from me. “I do. Just... not yet.”
I grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to face me. “But how can this be enough for you? I’m getting all the pleasure. And you’re not getting any.”
He shook his head. “That isn’t true.”
“It is.”
“No.” He put his hands on my shoulders. He bent down and kissed me. “Just looking at you gives me pleasure.”
“It’s not the same thing,” I said.
“You don’t know,” he said. “You don’t know how I feel.”
“So, tell me.”
He ran his hands over my shoulders, the tops of my arms. “When I see you in this dress, I feel overwhelmed by how beautiful you are.”
I placed my hand on his cheek.
He covered it with his own. “And I can’t believe that I actually have the chance to touch something so beautiful. That you would allow someone like me to kiss you.”
“Griffin, why do you think that something’s wrong with you?”
He looked away, his smile bitter. “Because there is, doll. But I can’t talk about it.”
“I don’t think—”
“You don’t know.” His voice was sharp.
I sighed. I wandered into the kitchen. I picked up a fork that I’d left on the counter and put it in the sink. “That’s my point. You won’t tell me what’s going on.”
He was behind me, his hands on my hips, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my thighs where my dress ended. “Let it go for now, please? I can’t talk about it.”
“It’s not like it’s just about liking to look at me. We’re talking about sex.” Maybe I felt so bold because I wasn’t facing him. “We’re not doing it. And I’m having climaxes, and you aren’t.”
He planted a line of kisses down my neck. “I don’t need to. All I need is to know you’re having a good time.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Take off your panties.”
My breath caught in my throat. “What?”
“Just do it,” he growled in my ear.
I was too surprised not to comply. I slid my underwear down until they were pooled around my ankles, and then I stepped out of them.
“Good,” he whispered, turning me in his arms, so that I was facing him. I was pressed against his unyielding body. He kissed me. “Do you have any idea what simply knowing that you’re wearing nothing under that dress just did for me?”
“N-no.” I felt taut and tense, but eager for whatever came next.
He reached into the bodice of my dress, cupping my breast and pulling it out so that it was exposed. He did it with the other breast as well. The air in my kitchen was chilly, and goose bumps quivered over my bare skin, my nipples pulling tight. I drew in breath.
He surveyed me, his eyes half-lidded in satisfaction. “Seeing you like this is very nice.”
I was still feeling tight all over, but I was starting to feel warmth as well. It was a very enjoyable, tense feeling. And I liked the way his gaze roamed over me greedily.
His hands on my waist, he lifted me so that I was sitting up on the counter. He pressed up against me, his body strong and hard, his hands on my thighs, pushing my dress up over them, higher and higher.
My mouth fou
nd his, and we kissed hungrily until he broke away from me, stepping back.
He looked at me, just looked at me.
His breath was ragged, his expression ravenous.
It was almost too intense. I started to pull my knees closer.
“No,” he rasped. “Open for me.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. I did as he asked, spreading my legs, presenting myself to him.
“Oh, doll,” he groaned. “Can you really think I don’t enjoy myself?”
I was having trouble breathing. I wasn’t sure what to say. I reached for him, wanting him close again.
He came to me. He kissed my lips, the tip of my nose, the hollow just beneath my ear, both my breasts, and then he sank to his knees in front of me.
I felt his lips on my inner thigh, tracing his way to his destination.
And when he got there, I lost myself to him. He demanded, and I submitted to the sweet torture of his mouth.
*
It was the fifth time my phone had rung. I was snug against Griffin’s bare chest in bed, my skin gloriously just as bare, and he felt like hot, liquid marble against me. I didn’t want to move.
“Can you turn that off or something?” Griffin grumbled.
“Mmph.” With effort, I rolled away from him and slid out of bed. It was cold outside of the covers. I missed being close to him already.
My legs felt shaky, probably because of the things Griffin had been doing to me before we went to sleep. I smiled wickedly at the thought. I managed to make it out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Where had I left my phone?
I wasn’t sure if I was completely satisfied with his answer to the question I’d posed to him. I said that I wanted to touch him, and he basically responded by going down on me? It had been amazingly wonderful, don’t get me wrong. I shivered at the thought of it. So good.
But the thing was, I could tell that he was only trying to distract me.
I was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t horribly wounded or something. I wasn’t sure how that could have happened, considering he’d been given the serum and all of that, but I did remember what he explained to me about cutting off fingers....
I shivered again, but this time not out of pleasure. That couldn’t even happen, though, could it? I mean...
Plus, I’d felt his... you know, boy parts. We slept all jammed up against each other, and he sort of poked me sometimes. In the leg or the thigh. It seemed like everything was functioning okay down there.
Red Hot Obsessions: Ten Contemporary Hot Alpha Male Romance Novels Boxed Set Page 80