by Rayne, Piper
I look into his chocolate eyes, and the butterflies inside flap their wings. “I don’t want to ruin anything. I mean, it’d be stupid if we… we can’t… what if…” For the first time in my life, I’m hesitant to take something I want. Maybe because my dream is bigger than one man. But people get both all the time. My siblings are examples of that.
“Is that really what you want?” he asks.
“Yes, you’re Griffin Thorne. I can’t.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I hate when you say my first and last name.”
“We should get back to Maverick.” I walk toward the truck, but he doesn’t allow me to go far.
“What are you scared of?”
I divert my attention toward the gazebo. Anything not to be held captive by his stare. “Because you’re Griffin Thorne.”
His hands ball up in fists at his side. “Please stop saying that. I’m Griffin.”
“No, you’re not. Don’t you see that? You represent my dream. And what if I allow myself to get involved with you and you destroy me? I’ve done stuff before thinking it through my entire life. I shouldn’t have gone to LA without a plan. I shouldn’t have tried to get this nanny position. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have… my entire life is filled with ‘I shouldn’t haves.” I place my hand on his strong chest. “You’re offering me something I could never obtain on my own, and I tend to screw things up. So if things got messy between us, I’d have another ‘shouldn’t have’ in my arsenal.”
His hand covers mine. “Do you think if things didn’t work out, I’d just drop you?”
“I don’t know, but taking that chance feels risky.” I don’t bother mentioning that I’d probably have to drop him if I couldn’t handle the rejection after my feelings for him grew.
He squeezes my hand, and I take a second to glance around.
“I would never do that,” he says. “I’m not that type of person, but you probably don’t know that about me. I’ve been cautious since Maggie, but with you, I don’t want to be cautious. I want to take what I want, and that’s what I was doing that day in the kitchen. I was acting like someone I’m not. All I’m asking for is one date. We’re going to the studio in three weeks. Let me get a sitter for Maverick, and we’ll go up to Anchorage to record and have dinner after. Spend the night—and I’ll get you a separate room if you want. But by then, everything will be off the ground. I’ll give you the demo before we go on the date. That way you’ll know whether we work out or not, you’re covered.”
I inhale a ragged breath.
He raises his hand before I can respond. “But I have one stipulation.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to call me Griffin. I never want my last name to leave your mouth from this point forward.”
I laugh and nod. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
I’m still scared, but these feelings I have for him aren’t going anywhere, and I know myself well enough to know that I’ll likely eventually give in anyway.
“I’ll make the arrangements. Let’s feed Maverick, then we have to get down to work. Try to keep your hands to yourself.” He winks.
“What?”
He releases my hand, tucking his into his pockets and walking down the path toward the truck. “I know I’m irresistible.”
He’s joking, but little does he know how many times I’ve walked away so I don’t touch him.
“You haven’t seen how irresistible I am yet,” I tease.
His nostrils flare as he opens the door to his truck. “Oh, I never told you about the cameras?”
I look at him as though I’m bored, but inside I’m imagining the fun I could have if he weren’t kidding.
As though he can read my mind, he smiles before he gets in and shuts the door.
I walk around to the other side and hop in.
“What took you guys so long? I’m starving!” Maverick screeches in my ear.
“We were talking about your birthday.” I probably shouldn’t lie. His birthday is four months away.
“Oh cool. Presents?”
I shrug. “It’s a secret.” I zip my lips and toss the imaginary key.
Griffin pulls the car out onto the street.
I direct Griffin to Greywall, and the awkwardness between us somehow disappears while we have a tic-tac-toe challenge on the paper napkins at the crab place. When no one wins, we move on to hangman.
To an outsider, we probably look like a family. No one looks at us as though we don’t belong together, and for the first time since my feelings for Griffin moved beyond boss/employer, I let myself hope that I’m one of those people who can have everything too.
Twenty-Four
Griffin
Three weeks of blue balls. Three weeks of hard-ons that I’ve had to rub out myself. Three weeks of seeing her ass in yoga pants. Three weeks of hearing the sweet sound of her voice grow more mature and more controlled. Three weeks of helping her find the perfection in her voice.
Her confidence is up ten times from before Founder’s Day. She’s trusting herself and her vocals, and the excitement I get from watching her grow as a singer can’t be matched.
Denver and Cleo volunteered to watch Maverick this weekend while I take her to a rented studio in Anchorage. I’ve toyed with the idea of building a studio in the house, but I don’t want to rush it. I mean, we haven’t even slept together, I can’t go building her a studio.
“You sure you’re okay leaving Maverick with Denver?” she asks from the seat next to me.
“I trust him. Plus Cleo is like his conscience.”
She laughs, sipping her tea. It’s early and we both needed a caffeine fix before we left town. “That’s true. I never thought about it that way.”
We drive to Anchorage and park outside of the small studio.
“You’re ready for this.”
Her gaze fixates on the sign and her chest rises and falls. “I think so. I mean, we’ve done a lot—”
I put my hand on her thigh. “I wasn’t asking. I was telling you. You are ready for this.”
Climbing out of my truck, I allow her the time she needs to get out and believe in herself the way I do. Van wanted to come up here and listen while we laid down her track, but I put my foot down.
A minute later, she comes out and I grab my guitar. We walk through the studio doors and I give my name. We’re introduced to the managers and escorted to the studio I reserved for two days.
Phoenix looks around while I sit in the chair, checking over their board and inspecting everything in the booth for her. It’s not top of the line, but I can make it work.
“Ready?” I ask her about fifteen minutes later when she’s done with her vocal warm-ups, and I’ve laid down the guitar portion of the track for her to sing along to. She’s chewing on her lip, ghost-white. “What’s the matter?”
“This is it.”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
“I’m nervous.” Her hands fidget in front of her.
I hold out my hand and she accepts it, allowing me to guide her into the booth. “It’s just like at home. Me and you. We can be here all day and all night if we want. There’s no rush, and I will not let this not be perfect. Which might mean our date will suck because you might hate me after today.”
A soft smile tilts her lips. “I’d never hate you.”
I fiddle with the microphone stand and move the stool away since I know she prefers to stand. “Don’t promise that until after we’re done. I can piss people off with my perfectionism.” She says nothing as I get her situated. “You good? Warm enough? I’ll have someone bring you in some water. And just remember, me and you in my family room.”
She rolls her eyes. I let her because we need to get started in case this takes a long time. It’s her first time in a booth and she might need fifty takes before she feels comfortable. And it’s only then that we can start experimenting and finding her sound.
I step back out of the door and roll the chair to the board.
>
I push the button to speak into the microphone so she can hear me in the booth. “Okay, I want to start by singing the song the entire length through a few times. You’ll hear the guitar in your ear. Then we’re going to concentrate on specific sections. I want to try some fun things.”
She nods.
“Breathe, Phoenix.” A long stream of air floats through the microphone. “There you go.”
I admit, being behind the board again feels awesome. I feel at home and at ease. Starting us up, I listen as Phoenix’s voice fills the booth. She’s so talented, and she has no idea how fast her star is going to rise.
But right now, I can’t get ahead of us. I’m going to enjoy this moment because I’m not sure how many artists I’ll have a chance to coach through their first single again.
* * *
Twelve hours, two meals, and countless water bottles later, we finally wrap. Phoenix sits in my truck with her head leaning on the window. I’m sure she’s exhausted, but she was a real pro today—taking my notes and incorporating them, up for trying some different ideas and arrangements, and never complaining that she was tired.
“Was it at least fun?” I ask, because sometimes the hype doesn’t live up to first-time artist expectations. Recording can be a long, arduous process. Once she gets signed and does an actual album, she’ll have more than just me in the studio. I could even see a collaboration with another artist in her future. What happened today is just the beginning for her.
“It was. Just more exhausting than I expected.”
“Go to your room, take a hot bath, and go to bed early.”
She tilts her head at me. “I thought we had a date?”
“I’m not going to have you only half-conscious on our first date. I should’ve thought about that when I suggested it. We’ll plan it for another time.”
It sucks and I hate that there’s no possibility that she’ll end up naked next to me tonight. I had hopes that we’d seal whatever this is between us, but today took a lot out of her.
“I’m fine. I want to.”
“Phoenix.” I park the truck in the hotel parking lot.
“What? You said we’d have a date, and that’s what I expect. I’m only twenty-two, Griffin. I have lots of energy.” She shoots me a teasing smirk as she opens the door and the interior light illuminates her beautiful face.
“Energy for what?”
Her eyes soak me up, and she bites her lip. It’s like a jolt of adrenaline right to my dick. “What do you think?”
She gets out of the truck and walks into the hotel while I trail behind, staring at her behind and thinking of all the ways I could make her pay for her teasing.
We check into the hotel, and Phoenix takes her key. Our rooms are next door to one another.
“So what time are you coming to pick me up?” she asks.
I look at my watch. It’s already nine o’clock at night. “I’m thinking room service. The question is, your room or mine?”
We step into the elevator and I’m thankful that no one else joins us. “Your room.”
“I owe you something first.” I dig the demo out of my pocket and hand it to her. “I do have copies though.”
She smiles at the USB stick. “Thank you. I mean it. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
I know exactly what it means, and that’s why I loved doing it for her. “We don’t have to have dinner, you know.”
The elevator doors ding open and we follow the signs to our rooms.
“I want to.”
I nod. “Okay. Let me know what you want me to order and I’ll see you in about a half hour?”
“Just order whatever. I’m going to shower and then I’ll be over.”
We each stand at our hotel room doors with our keycards in hand, a nervous energy between us.
“Perfect. See you soon.”
She smiles, swipes her keycard, and disappears into her room.
What the fuck am I doing? I’m acting like a damn thirteen-year-old kid who approached a girl at the first boy/girl dance. Man up, Griffin.
I order the room service, opting for things I’ve seen Phoenix eat. After stripping down, I turn on the water to have a quick shower. It’s amazing how dirty you feel after a day in the studio. Then again, maybe it’s only because of the dirty thoughts I had about Phoenix and what we could be doing in the studio besides recording.
The nerves set in once I’m showered and dressed. I probably shouldn’t touch Phoenix. We should go back on the dating idea because once this demo gets to Van, she’s going to LA and I won’t be joining her. Then again, maybe a night or two of sex is a nice celebratory ending to what we’ve shared these past couple of months.
A knock sounds at the door and I pad across the carpeted floor on my bare feet.
Phoenix stands on the other side in a short black skirt and black shirt scoop next shirt. Her hair is down in waves, her makeup freshened up from earlier.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” She steps into my space and inhales a deep breath. “What cologne do you wear?”
“Creed Aventus.”
She sits in a chair by the table, crossing her bare legs. All those doubts about not wanting to do this disappear.
“It smells amazing. That’s one thing I miss from LA. In Alaska, hardly any guys wear cologne. I remember walking down the streets of LA, and it’d be one smell after another.”
“You liked LA?”
She shrugs. “Yeah. It took a lot of getting used to at first.”
There’s another knock on the door, so I head over to answer it before we get into more questions. A hotel employee rolls a cart in, another guy following right behind with a second cart.
Phoenix laughs. “How much did you order?”
“I’m usually hungry after a successful recording session.”
She stands and takes lids off the dishes as I sign my name on the slip and see the men out. “I’m hungry too.”
When I return, she’s already got a fried green pea pod in her hand with half of it bitten off. “Sorry.” She covers her mouth with her forearm. “I should’ve waited.”
“There’s no should-haves in this room tonight. Got it?”
A slow smile washes over her lips at me remembering her words, and her footsteps are soft thuds on the carpet as she makes her way over to me. “I’m not going to mislead you. I haven’t had a ton of partners.” Her hand slides up my chest.
She says that as if it’s a bad thing.
“You don’t want to eat first?” I ask.
She tosses the half-eaten pea pod on the tray and shakes her head. “I like to have dessert first.” Her hand runs through my damp hair. My eyes close from the intimate contact. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first met you.”
Her other hand runs along the other side of my scalp, and my hands slide down her torso to her hips, locking her in place.
“I’ve wanted to do this.” My lips fall to her neck, the scent of her perfume making my dick pop up to party between our hips.
She moans, and the string I’ve been hanging onto for months snaps. When I lift her, she wraps her arms around my neck, and I press her back to the wall, locking my hips to hers, grinding my hard length into her center.
She’s so verbal in her responses. The noises rising up her throat and escaping her lips only make me harder. My hands are more urgent. I need to have her bare skin against mine. To slide and grind and suck. I’ve never felt this compelled to claim a woman.
Her hands land on the hem of my T-shirt and she raises the fabric up my chest. Breaking apart our kiss, she pulls the shirt over my head before my lips land on hers again. My tongue dives in to meet hers, needing the soft moans it elicits from her. My fingers run along a patch of skin between her skirt and her blouse, but quickly lose control and slide up her back to undo the clasp of her bra.
“Take them all off,” she says, pressing on my chest for distance.
I sit on the bed and pat the spot next to
me. “Come over here.”
She wastes no time, and our lips connect in a series of short kisses, one after the other until I swallow every ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ escaping her. Having her in my lap with her tits about to fall out of her shirt and her bra straps hanging down to her elbows is the best view I’ve ever had.
Pushing back all the bullshit reasons we shouldn’t be together, I claim her lips as mine. All I see, all I hear, all I feel is Phoenix. Damn the should-haves. They’re not welcome here tonight.
Twenty-Five
Phoenix
Griffin continues to kiss me, his tongue diving deeper. His hands roam and grip and mold while mine seem to be stuck running through his long hair, holding his head in places that I don’t want him to venture away from. I didn’t know anyone could elicit this kind of arousal from me.
Was my first partner that shitty or is Griffin gifted? Regardless, I push my ex out of my head to be clear and present, because if this doesn’t happen again, I need to remember tonight.
My hands finally leave his hair and travel down his muscled torso. He spreads my legs, one hanging off of his and the other one behind him. When he skims his fingers up my inner thigh, I clench with the expectation of what’s to come, but even as I prepare myself, I jolt from the contact when his fingers lightly run the length of my soaked silk panties.
“Relax. I’ve got you,” he whispers. His tongue does crazy things to my earlobe that ignites a trail of goose bumps up my spine. His other hand squeezes my breast.
Griffin surrounds me—his hands, his lips, his scent. I want to stay in this room for the rest of my life and discover him over and over again.
His fingers continue stroking between my legs, and when my orgasm builds to a near explosion, Griffin removes his hand and slides both hands up under my blouse until it’s over my head. My bra slides down my arms and I’m bare from the waist up. He pulls away, his eyes saturated with lust. His hands mold to my breasts and he watches himself manipulate them, teasing my nipples, gripping the flesh as though they’re clay and he’s the sculptor.