I quickly withdrew my hand from his, disappointed that my one tiny compliment made him think I was ready to sleep with him. I mean, it’s not that I wasn’t wondering when he’d make that type of pass at me, but I kind of liked that he wasn’t like so many other guys I’d dated in the past. It was nice to take things slow and get to know each other—to be wooed—before taking to the sheets.
Sensing my discontent with his comment, Griffin shook his head apologetically. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean it like that, Riley. I guess I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.”
“It’s not the way you blurted it out. It’s the way you looked at me when you said it.” He was looking at me the way I must have been looking at my gnocchi a few minutes ago. Starving for satisfaction and the taste of something rich.
“Well, can you blame me for looking at you that way? You’re beautiful. I can’t help that my eyes are pleased with what they see.”
“Your eyes or what’s inside your jeans?”
He laughed, that hearty laugh that made my insides melt. “Okay, so not just my eyes. Let’s just say you have an effect over all of me, but that’s still not why I want to take you home. Promise.”
I leaned forward. He really had my attention now. “Why, then?”
Taking the final sip of his scotch, he said, “I need some advice on my home studio. I spend a lot of time there and I’d like your decorating expertise. Would you mind mixing business with pleasure?” Subtle and cute, but still an innuendo.
I definitely didn’t mind helping him out, but if I wound up back at his place I’d probably end up helping myself out too—to him. “I don’t know. Maybe we should set up a real appointment—make it more professional. Besides, by the time we get back to Brooklyn it’ll be dark. I’d need to see the place in daylight to get a sense of what I’m working with.”
“Are you scared of me, Riley?”
No. I wasn’t. I was afraid of my own lack of self-control, but I couldn’t exactly tell him that without looking like a hooch. “Do I need to be scared, Griffin?”
Reaching for my hand again, his lips curled up into a warm grin; that dimple making its appearance again. “I thought we cleared that up on the beach. You already know I’m not a serial killer. Come back to my place with me. I won’t bite.”
If only he knew how badly I wanted him to bite. My lips, my neck, the fleshy skin of my inner thigh—“Ah… I don’t know.” I squirmed in my seat trying to think of an excuse, but there was none good enough to keep me away. “Okay, maybe just for a little while.” God, I probably sounded like an indecisive tease. If this was his way of testing the waters to see how far I was willing to go, I was like a yo-yo of mixed signals.
“Really?” His eyes brightened, the lines surrounding them appearing deeper as he smiled.
“Yes. Really. But I’m still checking your freezer for Ziploc baggies of dismembered limbs, buddy.”
“Be my guest. You’ll find nothing but ice in there.”
“Oh, man, no mint chocolate chip?”
“Nope. I almost never eat at home. Sorry, kid. We can pick something up on the way back if you’d like.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I’m stuffed from this wonderful dinner and besides… I’m only going back there for one thing.”
“Oh my goodness, Riley!” He gasped, straightening to attention and placing a hand over his heart. “What kind of man do you think I am? I don’t give it up on the second date. It takes at least three to get me into bed. That one thing will just have to wait.”
Rolling my eyes, I balled up my napkin and chucked it at him. “You’re a regular comedian, aren’t you? You know what I meant: the studio. I only agreed to go back to your place to see your studio, wiseass.”
Chuckling, he motioned for the check and then brought his attention back to me with a mega-watt grin. “I’m only messing with you, Riley. But I’ve been going on dates since you were in kindergarten. You’re fidgety, and tense, and your cheeks took on a beautiful blush when I mentioned going back to my place.
“And?”
“And you worried whether I’ll kiss you goodnight, and if I’ll try to go further.” He locked his eyes on mine, his gaze intense. “I’m a gentleman, Riley. I don’t expect you to fall all over me because I took you to a few nice restaurants. Don’t confuse my manners for my lack of interest—that’s definitely not the case—but when I do take you to bed you’ll go willingly, and not out of obligation. And we’ll know more about each other than what our favorite ice cream flavors are.”
“I never told you my—”
“Mint chocolate chip. You licked your lips right after you mentioned it before. Mine’s plain old vanilla.”
His smoothness was pretty impressive. I had to hand it to him. He was attentive—did I like that or not? Time to throw him off kilter a little. “Vanilla? That’s all you got? Shit, now I just might have to let you take me to bed. You’re not vanilla in there too, are you?”
Choking on the last bit of his scotch, he raised his napkin to catch the dribble that spurted from his lips at my reference to his bedroom skills.
“What?” I asked, cocking a brow. Two could play at this game.
“As much as I’d like to think I can read you, Riley, you are full of surprises.”
“Yes. I am, so stop trying to mind fuck me with your I-can-read-all-women ESP. I’m not like all women.”
“No, you most definitely are not.”
“Good. Now that you know I’m not screwing you tonight, and that I’m different from the harem of ladies you’ve been dating since I was five… wanna show me that studio?”
The dimple was back and Griffin had this dreamy look in his eyes that practically made them sparkle.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Shaking his head and straightening the collar of his shirt that was unbuttoned just enough for the tattoo on his neck to peak through, he smiled and asked, “Wanna cut through all the red tape and just agree to marry me now?”
Running my fingers through my hair, I flipped it to the side, tilting my head. “What a schmoozer.”
“This has nothing to do with schmoozing. I don’t want to mention the… harem, as you put it… again, but I’ve never met someone quite like you.”
He wasn’t serious. I knew that. But it still made me the slightest bit uncomfortable. “That’s not a reason to marry someone, Griffin.” Not that I knew anything about the reasons for marrying someone. I’d once wanted to marry a guy because the way he growled my name when we had sex made me come right on the spot. It didn’t matter that he smoked more pot than Snoop Dog and had two illegitimate kids. Perfect husband material, that one.
“It’s a perfect reason to marry someone, Riley. But I’ll give you until date five to make that decision.”
“Date five? How do you even know there’ll be a date three?” Cocky bastard. Let me rephrase that… cocky, panty-melting bastard.
“Oh, there will be. You’ll see.”
Date three was on a Saturday afternoon (a week after date two) at Griffin’s apartment, where he had invited me to go over some of the samples he’d picked out for his studio. He was also going to attempt to cook me a meal. I brought over a bunch of my favorite take-out menus, just in case. From the way he’d described things when I was at his apartment last, he lived minimally and very rarely ate something that wasn’t prepared by someone else. I wasn’t in the mood to be his Guinea pig for the sake of him trying to impress me. Winding up with salmonella or the runs was not on my agenda—especially not while in the presence of Griffin.
“What’re these?” he asked when I handed him the bag of menus.
“Our back up plan.”
He poked through the bag, and when he realized what they were, his expression changed from happy-to-see-me to how-could-you-doubt-me. “Huh! That’s a first. I say I’m cooking and you bring take out menus?”
“I told you I’m not like other women, Griffin. I thought it would have sunk in by date three.�
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Shutting the door behind me, he took the bottle of wine from my hand and motioned for me to walk toward his kitchen. “And I thought you would’ve started to trust me a little more. You’re putting a kink in my plans, love. I’m gonna get you to say yes to my proposal by date five.”
I laughed at how relentless he was. It was becoming a turn on. But as turned on as I was, I still wanted to take things slow. So when he placed his hand on my back, right above the low waistline of my jeans, I hurried on ahead to rid my mind of the way his touch made me feel. Warm, tingly, needy, ready. Nope! None of that. Not yet, at least.
“So,” I said, cutting right to the chase. “I got some of the swatches we talked about and brought a few catalogs for you to look through.” I lifted my work bag onto the kitchen table and started to pull things out for him to look at. I figured if I avoided all things date-like and made this more about his studio, I’d be safe from his charm.
But when he grabbed my hands to stop me from rummaging and our eyes met, that was the moment I knew he was about to change our friendship into something more. “What are you doing, Griffin? Don’t you want to see what I brought?”
“Yes, but not now,” he said, closing the distance between us. “I know it’s customary to end a date with a kiss, but since you’re so different from everyone else I thought you might like it if we started off with one.”
Without giving me time to disagree with his clever trick, he brought one hand up to cup my face and the other tangled itself in my hair. I stared into his eyes for a brief second before his lips brushed mine, and for the first time since ending things with Beck, I wanted this man to kiss me. It was time to forget Beck and what we could’ve been. It was time to move on and be grateful for what was right in front of me. Griffin was a wonderful man—and so far, a wonderful kisser—and I enjoyed spending time with him. I owed it to both of us to be here fully. Allowing Beck into my mind while I was with Griffin was anything but fair.
And now it was ruining our first kiss.
Shooing the Beckster far from my thoughts, I wrapped my arms around Griffin’s neck and allowed myself to surrender to him. Our tongues danced together, relishing in our first intimate moment. It felt good to let go and give in. So I abandoned every inhibition, every fear, every uncertainty and just lived in those few minutes.
When our hands started to roam and our breathing quickened to more of a panting rhythm, I pulled away and took it all in. His eyes were still closed as if he were savoring our connection. His arms were still wrapped around me at my waist and his lips were damp and slightly swollen from our kiss.
I thought about going in for another, because—well, what the hell, right? Once you’ve already done it, the rest was just icing on the cake. But before I could claim his mouth again, his doorbell rang, startling us both from our tender after-kiss embrace.
“Expecting someone?” I asked.
He stood stoically, still holding me in his arms as he rolled his eyes and let out an irritated huff. “Actually, yes. I forgot my sister was stopping by to pick up some pictures I took for our parents’ wedding anniversary. Their party’s next week and we’re putting together a montage of candids I’ve been taking all year to surprise them.”
Trying to hide my nervousness over how he would introduce me to his sister, I simply complimented him on being such a thoughtful son. “Griffin, that’s a wonderful idea. I bet they’ll love it. I’ll just stay in here and get the um, samples out while you get her what she needs.”
He furrowed his brows and gave me a quizzical look. “Don’t you want to meet her?”
I didn’t want to make it a bigger deal than it was, so I just played dumb. “Oh, how silly of me. Of course. Want to ask her to stay for dinner too?” Please say no! Please say no! I wasn’t ready to spend an evening with his family just yet. I’d just kissed him for the first time, what… three seconds ago?
Walking toward the unanswered door, he spoke over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t go that far. She’ll come in for a minute and then she can go. I want to finish what we started a few minutes ago, anyway.”
Now I was praying she would stay. I wasn’t ready for more than that kiss—no matter how sweet it was. If Griffin was indeed the gentleman he said he was, his intention was probably to start off sweet and then pull out all the stops later. “Okay. Let her in already. She’s gonna think we’re up to no good in here!”
“Good,” he whispered, ruffling his hair to make it look messy and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. “Maybe she’ll get the picture and leave quicker.”
“Griffi—” I started to scold him, but I was too late.
He swung the door open and when his sister spun around I nearly shrieked.
“Took you long enough,” she said, barging in.
“Sorry. I was putting something in the oven. Riley, come here, meet my sister—”
“—Marissa,” I finished for him. “If it isn’t a small freaking world.” It felt like all the breath had been knocked out of me. I mean really—it wasn’t that small of a world. How could this be happening?
“Riley? Oh my god. How funny is this? You’re the girl my brother can’t stop talking about?”
“Wait a minute,” Griffin interrupted, trying not to look too embarrassed by his sister’s confession. “You two know each other?”
“Well not really, but yes. Her brother is Beck’s best friend.”
Hearing her say Beck’s name made my insides turn. Clearly one kiss from Griffin was not enough for me to let go of my past.
“Marcus Grayson is your brother?” The way Griffin said it made it seem like it was an impossibility.
“Yup.” It was all I could say, still trying to wrap my head around this coincidence.
“I did a few of his shoots in the past. Nice guy. His best friend, not so much.”
“Who? Beck?” I suddenly felt defensive. What did he have against him?
Marissa flailed her hands in the air. “Whoa. Calm down, big brother bear. Don’t go saying anything stupid and making things awkward. Beck and I have been talking again. Who knows? We could end up back together.” She said it with such a giddiness I could tell she meant it. Or at least she was hoping it was possible.
Griffin and Marissa shared a few words back and forth. I assumed they were about his disapproval of Beck, but I couldn’t make out one damn word of it. All that kept ringing in my ears over and over again, causing my head to spin and my heart to squeeze, were Marissa’s words: Beck and I have been talking again. For the second time since seeing Marissa, I wanted to vomit. This was no good. No good at all. There was no way I’d be able to play it cool with Griffin once she left. I had to make up an excuse and get out of there. I needed time to process this whole ridiculous, too-close-for-comfort situation.
What a loser. An exhausted loser too. It was barely ten o’clock on a Saturday night and I was ready for lights out. I’d had two sleepless nights at the firehouse because of a three a.m. call two nights ago and then a snoring Ramos last night. Curling up underneath the blanket, I welcomed the grogginess and heavy lids and got ready to catch my well-deserved z’s.
I was dozing off with an image of myself and Riley in the back of that cab when my doorbell rang and nearly jolted me out of my skivvies.
“Who the fuck?” I scratched my head, reluctantly swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
I had no idea who it could be. I worried that I might have forgotten plans for the guys to come over and watch the game, but as I hurried down the steps, the doorbell chimed over and over again as the person knocked like an obnoxious asshole.
When I opened the door, ready to rip whoever it was a new one, my jaw dropped wide open at the sight of my unexpected visitor. “Riley? What are you—?”
“You’re getting back together with Marissa? Is that why you ended things with me? You… you… asshole!” She’d been crying. I could tell by the black smudges of makeup in the corners of her eyes. But what flashed through more th
an her sadness was her anger. She barged past the threshold, pushing my chest with her tiny hands.
“Whoa. Hold up, sweet thing. What’s this all about?” I grabbed her wrists and leaned down so my eyes met hers.
“Don’t call me that, Beck. I’m not your sweet thing. I’m not your any thing. You made that pretty clear when you just ended things out of fucking nowhere. But to find out that you couldn’t be honest and tell me it was because you were getting back together with her. That’s just… you’re really… fucked up. You know that?”
My head was spinning. Not only was this completely unexpected, but Riley seemed really effected by the chance of me getting back together with Marissa. The thought of her being jealous… over me… it made my insides feel uncharacteristically warm and gooey.
Unable to wrap my head around the range of emotions invading my brain, I invited her into the living room. “First of all, come in and get out of the doorway.” I ushered her inside and flipped on a light so we weren’t in complete darkness. “Second of all, I’m not getting back with Marissa. Who told you that?” I wanted to know who fed her this false information. It couldn’t have been Marcus or Tessa, because they knew that wasn’t the truth. Especially Tessa. She did know the truth. I was doing what was best for Riley by staying away, even though it was driving me mad.
“She told me, Beck. I ran into Marissa and she told me you two are still talking and are most likely getting back together.”
I raked my fingers through my hair, narrowing my eyes at her and trying to make sense of all the confusion. It made no sense. None of it. “She lied to you, Riles. We’ve texted back and forth a few times, but I assure you we are not getting back together. I don’t know why she’d say that. I’ve made it clear that it’s over. I don’t want to be with her anymore. It couldn’t be more over, Riles.”
I thought that would put her at ease. I figured once she knew the truth her anger would subside, her tears would stop, but that wasn’t the case.
“Then why did you end it with me? Why didn’t you even give me a reason?” The tears came down in fat drops from her eyes. Had I known she was this upset over the way things had turned out with us…
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