When It's Right

by Denault, Victoria

  I can’t stop smiling. I’ve been doing it since the second I realized where Griffin was taking me, and I probably won’t stop smiling for days. I run my hand over the soft neck of Triscuit, the stunning golden colored horse I’m riding. Griffin is on a bigger mottled gray horse named Zeus.

  “Zeus is treating you well,” I remark. “And you look less stressed, so you must be getting the hang of it.”

  “Horseback riding wasn’t stressing me out,” he replies and gives me a smile, but it’s more guarded than his previous smiles. I wonder if he’s lying to me to appear tough or cool or sexy or something. The truth is, even if he admitted he was scared of riding, he would still be sexy AF to me. Sitting on top of that horse in a black T-shirt that shows off his tight torso, broad chest, and bulging biceps, he still looks so hot I want to jump him, even with the wrinkled brow and tense jaw.

  “I can’t believe you planned this,” I say, still in awe. I mentioned to him on that very first date that I loved horses and didn’t expect him to think twice about it. But he did, and here we are on a ridge over looking the Pacific, riding two beautiful beasts as the sun gets ready to set. Last night at the beach was perfection, but this…this is heaven. “This is the best date I’ve ever had. Ever.”

  He moves Zeus closer to Triscuit and leans his body toward mine. “And I’m just getting started,” he promises. I lean toward him so our lips can connect.

  “Wait a second,” I say when our kiss ends and pull my cell out of his pocket. “Let’s commemorate this.”

  If I thought he looked stressed before, I was wrong. Now he’s nothing but tension oozing out of every sexy pore on his face. He’s clenching his jaw so tightly I’m surprised I can’t hear his teeth creak under the pressure. “I don’t do social media.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “I just…” He sighs. “I don’t put pictures of me on social media. I don’t let people. I just…I’m not into that.”

  “I don’t do social media either,” I explain, suddenly feeling embarrassed that I might have done something wrong. “I had Instagram for like five minutes and got DM’d by every puck bunny on the planet trying to get my brother’s info. So I got rid of it. And Facebook and Twitter.”

  I watch his shoulders relax just a little. I start to put my phone away. He reaches over and grabs my wrist to stop me. “It’s okay. Sorry. I’m just over-cautious. Because of Charlie.”

  He smiles. It’s slightly more relaxed than any smile he’s given me all day. “I get it. You don’t want her seeing anything that would upset her online. I understand.”

  “But take it. Of us. For us,” he urges and leans closer to me again, letting go of my wrist so I can lift the phone and snap the selfie.

  It’s the perfect shot of us with the ocean and the setting sun over his shoulder, casting a golden glow on us that no photo filter can replicate. He examines it on my screen. “We look good together.”

  We do. But I’m feeling a little guarded after his reaction, so I just nod and put my phone back in my pocket. Ten minutes later I’m saying goodbye to Triscuit, and Griffin is chuckling. “What? We formed a real bond.”

  I go back to nuzzling his nose. With a final pat of his mane, I start to walk away. Impulsively, I reach over and hug Griffin. He’s stiff, but he hugs me back. “Thank you for this.”

  “Seeing your face light up was thanks enough,” he replies. “And now for dinner.”

  We get in his car, and he drives us over the Golden Gate. I wonder if we’re going back to his place for dinner. I wouldn’t mind that in the least, because I’ve already decided I’m having him for dessert, and that’s how dinner at his place ended last time. Only this time I want more than great oral. I want great sex.

  “Want a hint of where we’re going?” he asks. I nod, so he turns on the radio and flips the Sirius XM to a country station. I raise my left eyebrow at him, intrigued.

  Fifteen minutes later we’re pulling to the curb in front of a dilapidated building that looks like a roadhouse—the kind where people go in and don’t always come out. But this place has valet parking, so it can’t be too sketchy. I look up at the flickering neon sign and laugh. “Pickled Biscuits Brew House.”

  “I’ve never been, but it’s supposed to be the best honky-tonk in San Francisco,” he explains as his full lips part in a wicked grin and he runs his tongue across his bottom lip. “I hope you like barbecue, because they’re supposed to have the best in the West.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” I declare. I almost skip to the entrance I’m so excited.

  Inside, the place is a trip. Everything is knotty pine—the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bar. The only other décor are cowboy hats of all shapes, sizes, and colors hanging on the walls over booths and behind the bar. And as soon as I inhale, I start to salivate. Griffin lets out a grumbling groan. “It smells like heaven. Unless you’re a vegan.”

  I laugh. “This is enough to turn a vegan’s mind or at the very least make them weep.”

  We sit at a booth near the back, because it’s the only one available. The place is fairly full, and by the time our food gets here, all the tables are taken and it’s standing room only. There’s a band setting up on the small stage by the bar as we devour the Road House Sampler we ordered, which has a little bit of everything, including their weird but delicious assortment of pickled vegetables. I eat like it’s my last meal, enjoying the hell out of it, and so does he. He also seems to be enjoying me, which I like. His eyes are devouring me while I devour the last rib and then pop another pickled radish in my mouth before licking the rib sauce off my fingers.

  “Who knew pickled radish was so delicious?” I ask, trying not to feel self-conscious under the weight of his stare.

  He licks his lips slowly. “Who knew watching you eat barbecue would give me a hard-on. But it is.”

  I blush fiercely. “I’m a slob right now. You’re turned on by this?”

  I hold up my sticky fingers, and his expression gets darker. He leans forward in the booth and takes me by the wrist. “Everything about you is authentic. You don’t pretend, and you’re not worried about how you look,” he explains. “And it’s the biggest turn-on in the world.”

  He pulls my wrist to his mouth and licks at some of the sauce there. A white-hot flash of desire explodes inside me. He lets go of my wrist, and I almost whimper. “Have you always been so fucking incredible?” he asks softly.

  “Do you always make women want to fuck you in public?” I counter, and his eyes get even darker.

  “Is that what I’m doing to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you settle for fucking me in private?”

  “Yes.”

  He slides out of the booth and pulls me out of it, while dropping a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “This will more than cover it.”

  He stalks through the crowded room, grasping my hand so I don’t fall behind. People part easily for him, like they know he is on some kind of mission. He’s got that kind of presence everywhere he goes, whether he chooses to use it or not. He’s commanding. He’s imposing. He’s impossible to ignore. And he’s mine.

  We are almost to the door when the band starts up, and it causes me to stutter-step. They’re playing one of my favorite songs, “Heartache Tonight” by the Eagles. My dad used to sing it at the top of his lungs on our long summer drives from Toronto to the cottage in Maine. Hearing it now makes me think it’s some kind of sign. Like I need another sign to tell me Griffin is perfect for me. He feels my step falter and turns around to face me.

  “Sorry. It’s just one of my favorite songs,” I tell him.

  He smiles. “Then we should stay and dance.”

  “We should?” I blink, stunned. “You dance?”

  He laughs and pulls me toward the already crowded dance floor. The man has moves and he isn’t afraid to use them, and it’s sexy as hell. I dance with abandon for the first time in a long time, and by the end of the song I can’t keep my hands off him
. He definitely doesn’t mind. He grabs me in a searing kiss as the band ends the song and starts another. My body is pressed to his, and he dips me backward a little in the middle of the kiss, and it makes me giggle with delight against his lips.

  “More dancing?” he asks softly against the shell of my ear after he breaks the kiss and pulls me upright in his arms.

  “Not with our clothes on,” I say and grin.

  He pulls me off the dance floor.

  Outside, he hands the valet his ticket. I lean against the side of the building, under the flashing neon sign, because I’m so turned on I feel light-headed. He smells like spiced rum, leather, and bergamot. Sweet lord, I need him.

  I lift the hem of his shirt and press my hands flat against his rippled stomach. “You’re the sexiest man I have ever met. You do things to me, to my body, that I don’t understand, and I’m a trained professional.”

  He grins, a deep, rough laugh rumbling up from him as his abs tighten under my palms. He rests his forearms on the wall on either side of my head and then dips his head, his lips ghosting mine. “You do things to me too,” he whispers against my lips. As he kisses me, my fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans, just brushing against the tip of his very hard cock.

  “I want that in my mouth again,” I murmur and then tilt my head and slide my tongue out to touch his bottom lip. He reaches up, cupping the side of my face and curling his fingers into my hair, and he kisses me hard and deep.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…no,” Did he just turn down a blow job? “I want more this time. I want all of you.”

  “Sir, your car,” the valet calls out.

  Griffin bites my bottom lip one last time and then pulls back. As he opens my door and I get in, his phone buzzes. He looks at the screen, and his whole demeanor tightens—his shoulders, his jaw, the way he clutches his phone. “Give me a second…”

  He shuts my door. I watch him through the window as he dials a number and turns his back to me. He walks to the edge of the sidewalk, near the alley a few feet away. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he’s gesturing a lot. He hangs up less than two minutes later and stalks over to the car like a thundercloud about to rain hellfire.

  He drops into the driver’s seat. I can see him force a change in his disposition. It’s literally like watching someone trying to swallow something gross—kind of like how I look trying to swallow Fireball whiskey. But he gets it down and looks at me with a fake but easy smile. “Let’s get going.”

  I put my hand on top of his. “Let’s talk about whatever is stressing you out.”

  His eyebrows pinch together. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. “It’s nothing. Work crap.”

  “Griffin, you looked way too stressed for a team that hasn’t started playoffs yet,” I remark. “And that look on your face is more than work. It’s personal. I can tell.”

  He reaches for his seat belt and as he clicks it, he leans closer and kisses my cheek. The feel of his stubble against my throat as he pulls away makes me tingle. When his eyes meet mine, they hold a raw desperation I fully understand even without the reasoning behind it. “It’s not that I’m keeping secrets. It’s just that I need tonight to be about something else. Something new. I just want to forget everything for a little while.”

  With everything I’ve been through in the last few years with my family and my dad, I get it. This—us—we’re something that doesn’t get touched by the pain, the mess of our everyday lives.

  I put my hand on his thigh and give it a squeeze. “Let’s go back to your place and continue this debate about whether I get to put my mouth on your cock again.”

  He huffs out a surprised laugh. “This is exactly the only kind of conversation I want to have tonight.”

  He pulls away from the curb, officially leaving our worries on the sidewalk beside the valet.

  19

  Griffin

  From the second I’m inside her, I am teetering on the brink of orgasm. It’s more than just how wet she is or how tight she feels. It’s the way she tore off my clothing and her own. It’s the way she rolled the condom onto me, crawled onto my bed and onto my cock, no timidness, but with confidence and eagerness. And then she drops herself down on me with an arched back, tits on display, hands in her golden hair, moaning in pure abandon. Sadie Braddock is my sexual soul mate.

  And shit, that mouth of hers…she says everything I’m thinking. Every hot, dirty thought. “My pussy is so wet,” she pants. “I swear you’ve had me on the verge of coming since I met you.”

  I reach up and palm those perfect bouncing breasts. “Then let’s make you come, love. As many times as you want.”

  “Oh, God, fuck.” She’s bouncing on me at a frantic pace, her hips rolling and her pussy tightening with every thrust I give her. Usually I chase orgasm, but with her, I don’t want to give in too soon. The tingle in my balls, the pull of her pussy, the sounds she makes…I want it all to last forever.

  She grabs my wrist and moves my left hand off her breasts, trailing it down her abdomen. I let her place it over her clit. “Tell me what you want,” I command as I lift my hips and slam into her so hard her knees lift off the bed for a second.

  She looks down at me, a curtain of golden hair around her flushed face. Her blue eyes are as dark as the ocean at night and just as glassy. “Rub my clit, Griffin. Make me come. Hard.”

  I move my thumb over her clit. She lets out a gasp that is equal parts relief and anticipation, and it pushes me to the edge of my own release. I can’t…I won’t go without her. Ladies first. Always. Especially this lady.

  “Right there. Harder. Faster. So close,” she whispers. I follow her orders and feel my own grip slipping.

  She drops forward suddenly, her lips crashing down on mine and there, in the middle of the kiss, I feel her come. She trembles around my dick and whimpers against my mouth. I wrap my arms tightly around her back, pushing her down harder on my dick, and I let my own sweet release take over.

  I swear I almost lose consciousness.

  She’s collapsed on top of me, her head curled into the crook of my neck. I loosen my grip on her but can’t bring myself to let go. Seconds turn into minutes, and I know I have to move her, get up, take care of the condom, but right now, with her falling asleep on top of me, flesh to flesh, heartbeat to heartbeat, I am feeling more relaxed and at peace than I have in years. That’s not even an exaggeration. She must feel the same, because I realize, after twenty minutes, she’s sound asleep.

  She doesn’t even wake when I gently turn us around to lie on her side on the bed. I roll off the bed and head to the bathroom to clean up. I grab my phone off the nightstand before crawling back into bed and check my messages. Hunter has sent me the court date—two weeks from now. My stomach drops. He keeps reassuring me everything will work out, Charlie isn’t gong anywhere, but I can’t get rid of the cold knot of fear that forms in my belly when I think about facing the judge. I know I’ve done nothing wrong. I know I’m a great dad, and I know Charlie is perfectly happy with the current situation. I also know Lauren always gets what she wants. It’s been like that since the day I met her. Even the fact that we’re here in San Francisco now was her choice. She wanted to settle here after the divorce because her parents live nearby and it was a strong market for freelance graphic designers, which is what she does. I lucked into the perfect job, but the fact is, I would have worked at In-N-Out Burger if it was the only job I could find in the city where my daughter lived.

  I text Hunter back and lie back down next to Sadie. She snuggles into me, her head on my bicep and her leg curled over mine, and I instantly start to relax. I run a hand over her long, silky hair, and the lilac scent of her shampoo fills the air. I close my eyes and just enjoy the moment. Nothing else matters right now, but this…the contentment and peace. I close my eyes and, amazingly, I drift off to sleep.

  She wakes me up almost six hours later, and I willingly let her win that debate about the blow job.
Then I flip her on her back, dip my head between her toned thighs, and return the favor. She falls back asleep, wrapped around me again, but I lie awake and think about how I’m going to tell her about this custody thing. I don’t want to make it her problem, but it’s going to disrupt my life, and since she’s in my life now…I need to tell her.

  A few minutes later her phone starts to ring, waking her up. She answers it and doesn’t say much after that, but as soon as she hangs up she looks over at me with regret. “I have to go to the hospital.”

  “You got called into work?” I question.

  She shakes her head. “If I tell you something, you have to not tell Eli or Jude.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s my dad’s doctor. They did some tests, and Dad asked him to give me a preview of the results before my family finds out,” she explains, trying to tame her bed head and tuck her wild hair behind her ears. “He didn’t want to do it over the phone. That’s not a good sign.”

  “I’m sorry.” I know it’s lame, but I don’t know what else to say.

  “I knew it wasn’t going to be great. I mean, ALS is incurable,” Sadie says quietly. “I’m a nurse. I know how this plays out. I know in excruciating detail, which is why my dad wants me to have the info first. Because everyone else is going to need me to help them come to terms with it.”

  I stand up and reach for boxer briefs and tug them on. I watch her as she takes an elastic off her wrist I didn’t even realize was there and artfully twists her hair up. Then she heads to the bathroom. “Okay if I shower?”

  “Of course.” I follow her into the bathroom, and as she turns on the water and steps into the shower, I grab a fresh towel from the shelf under the vanity and put it in on sink for her. I walk back into the bedroom and wait for her. I decide now isn’t the time to lay my shit at her feet. She’s about to get what could be really bad news about her dad. My drama can wait until she’s dealt with that, so she doesn’t feel overwhelmed. When she emerges ten minutes later, the towel is wrapped around her. She starts getting dressed. She looks good getting ready in my space, and I hope I get to see it happening again…a lot. But now is not the time to bring that up.