Erica's Choice

by Sami Lee

  “Welcome to my humble cave,” Griff said as he guided Erica into the open-plan living area.

  The stereo played The Rolling Stones’s Forty Licks softly in the background as Erica twirled on her heels, surveying the vast space. “Humble? This is incredible. From the outside it looks small.”

  “I knocked down some walls in here, made it all one room. It’s not as big as it looks.”

  Corey shot Griff a look. Was he being modest? “He did this all himself. Increased the resale value by a bomb.”

  “But I’m not selling. This is home.”

  “I wouldn’t sell either,” Erica agreed, giving Griff a soft smile. “Your home is beautiful.”

  Griff took a lazy step toward Erica, leaning in a little—encroaching on her personal space but stopping short of invading it. “More beautiful with you in it,” he said, his voice low. When Erica blushed prettily, Griff lifted a hand and stroked it lightly up and down her arm. “Do you want a drink, beautiful?”

  Her voice was raspy, as though she needed to wet her throat now more than she ever had. “Yes, please.”

  “Make yourself at home.”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Corey said, following Griff to the kitchen. Once there, he leaned over the open fridge door and lowered his voice. “What are you doing?”

  Griff pulled out a bottle of chardonnay and lifted it. “Getting your girl a drink.”

  “She’s not just my girl.”

  Griff’s gaze strayed past Corey’s shoulder, resting for a moment on the woman now wandering around his living room, inspecting CD collections and wall art. “We’ve been through this, Cor. I’m not the one who’s head over heels for the busty redhead.”

  “You were cracking onto her.”

  “Of course I was.” Griff pulled three glasses down from an overhead cupboard and placed them on the granite-topped bench. “She looks smoking hot.”

  “No, I mean you’re trying to impress her.”

  “Same thing, Wachawski.”

  No, it wasn’t, not to Griff. Corey had seen him with women before. He flirted, teased and all around made his intentions clear. But he never went too far out of his way to get laid—he never had to.

  “Look, you asked me to be gentle with her, not to scare her off.” Griff shrugged. “This is me being gentle.”

  Corey watched as Griff poured the straw-hued liquid into three chunky wine glasses. He thought of all the women who had made a fleeting appearance in Griff’s life, thought of how he’d been by his side to see most of them waltz right back out. He knew this was different but Corey decided not to pursue it for now. Griff with all his bravado could be as easy to scare off as Erica.

  And for the first time Corey acknowledged that he didn’t want either of them going anywhere. It was going to take every power of persuasion he had to keep Griff and Erica from bolting out of his life.

  So instead of pushing the issue of Griff’s true feelings for Erica, Corey asked, “How come you never put moves like that on me?”

  “What? Throw you up against the lockers at work?”

  “Not at work. I know you don’t want anyone there finding out about us.” That had been abundantly clear from the way Griff had returned to ignoring Corey while they were at the fire station, much like he had after that first night with Erica. Corey tried not to let it sting, but he missed the easy comradeship they used to share.

  “It has to be kept separate, you know that, right?” Griff asked. “I have to keep my mind on the job, that’s all. I’m not ashamed of anything, least of all you.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes. Forget about work. Forget about who knows or doesn’t know. It’s what we do in private that counts.”

  The reminder of how everything changed when they were alone caused Corey’s body temperature to soar. When they’d left Erica’s this afternoon, Griff had dropped Corey off at his apartment. Without waiting for an invitation, Griff had followed him inside and slammed the door with his foot. He’d shoved Corey up against the wall and kissed him like he wanted to take his soul in the act. Then Griff had dropped to his knees and taken Corey to heaven.

  Corey’s cock twitched at the remembered feel of Griff’s tongue bathing it in heat. As if being so close to Erica and her signature lavender scent hadn’t gotten him hard enough, now he was as immovable as Griff’s granite bench tops.

  “I like what we do in private,” Corey conceded when he found his voice. Maybe that was all that mattered. It wasn’t like they were at work twenty-four hours a day. “But when are you going to let me return the favor?”

  Griff’s gaze dropped to Corey’s mouth, his irises sparking with heat. By the time their eyes connected again, Corey was blushing. “When I know you really want to, Cor. When you want it so bad you can’t go one more day without tasting my cock, without knowing what it’s like to have it fill you right to the back of your throat.”

  Corey’s insides went all spongy and his face flamed. The sensations only intensified when Griff rounded the counter and hooked an arm around his neck, drawing him into a quick, close embrace. He smelled faintly of herbs, beer and aftershave, a spicier scent than the one Corey used. His smooth, warm lips brushed against Corey’s ear as he murmured, “Jesus Christ, you’re cute when you get bashful.”

  Griff was gone the instant the words were out of his mouth, headed back to Erica. The effect of his touch, of his words, lingered like an aftershock, shaking up Corey’s world. He hung back in the kitchen, grappling with a tumult of emotions that had sideswiped him.

  He looked across the room, watching as Griff stood behind Erica, brushing ever so subtly up against her as they discussed one of the paintings that hung on his wall. Corey saw her reaction to his nearness, the way she rubbed her arms as if he’d raised goose bumps, the way her body swayed backward as though yearning to melt into him. Corey understood exactly how she felt. She was fighting a losing battle against falling for Griff.

  For Corey it was already too late.

  Chapter Eleven

  Griff had no idea why he was so goddamned nervous, but his palms were sweating like he was sixteen again and losing his virginity to an eighteen-year-old goddess by the name of Shauna Thompson. He’d been so keen to impress Shauna that he’d tried to unclasp her bra with one hand like a schoolmate had advised him to. She’d ended up doing the job herself with an impatient roll of her eyes Griff still couldn’t recall without wincing.

  You’re trying to impress her. He’d shrugged off Corey’s observation about his intentions toward Erica, but the truth nagged now as the three of them sat around his distressed timber outdoor table, replete after the meal he’d spent the afternoon carefully assembling. He’d dropped a tidy sum on the best porterhouse steaks he could find, a gourmet potato salad and a couple of bottles of fancy wine, thinking of Erica as he made the preparations. She’d been on his mind, too, when he’d strung the fairy lights along the railings rimming the back deck to create atmosphere, and when he’d bought scented candles as a table centerpiece.

  Scented frigging candles.

  Griff used to put on airs for Anna too. Without being fully conscious of it, he’d cleaned up his language and refrained from wearing his worst T-shirts in her presence. Anna had been an ambitious player in corporate banking, the daughter of a well-to-do surgeon. Jack had been an architect. Not an impressive-enough job to suit Anna’s snobbish father, but a guy with a degree at least. As a professional, Jack Chambers had passed muster. As a lowly public servant, Griff had not.

  In the beginning that hadn’t mattered. Despite their varied backgrounds, he and Jack and Anna had clicked, in and out of bed. That was rare enough that Griff overlooked the small gripe that he was forced to act like nothing more than a boarder in their house. But a few years in the pretense had gotten too uncomfortable to keep up, like a prickly wool coat worn in the heat of midsummer. Griff had pressed for a more open relationship.

  Unwilling to buck her family’s and society’s conventio
ns, Anna had cut him out in a heartbeat. Jack had supported her because the two of them had always been the primary couple.

  Sitting across the table from Erica and Corey now, Griff watched them interact like long-lost friends aching to be lovers and couldn’t shake the sense of history repeating itself.

  It’ll be different this time. Walking away will be your choice.

  “No, that was not Kate Winslet, it was Kate Hudson.” Erica fired another shot in the little game of who’s-that-starlet that she and Corey had entered into when he’d asked her to name her top five favorite films. “And How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is a much-underrated classic of the romantic-comedy genre.”

  “I’m surprised, Erica. I thought you’d be into serious, important movies, not screwy chick flicks.”

  “I read a lot of serious books for my job. When I watch movies I’d rather relax. Anyway, I’m appalled that you’re into scary slasher films.”

  “Scream is really more funny than scary.”

  Erica made a face. “There’s nothing amusing about all that blood. What about you, Griff?” She turned to him, gazing at him over the rim of her wine glass as she took a sip. “Don’t tell me you like that sort of thing too.”

  If pushed to nominate a favorite movie Griff would probably cite The Shawshank Redemption. But he wasn’t in the mood to be so informative. He flashed a grin he didn’t feel all the way to his insides. “I like Debbie Does Dallas—a classic of the genre if there ever was one.”

  As expected, Erica rolled her eyes. “Sex and violence. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what makes men tick.”

  “Maybe the fun is in trying to work us out anyway,” Griff suggested.

  Her lips curved then, her whole face—hell, everything in a ten-foot radius—brightening as a result. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  That smile, beatific and sincere and a little goofy from one-too-many glasses of chardonnay, wrapped warm fingers around Griff’s heart and squeezed. Fuck no. Your heart’s supposed to stay out of this, remember?

  “So tell me.” Corey reached across the table and gently tugged on a strand of Erica’s hair, bringing her attention back to him. “We didn’t get to number one. What’s your all-time favorite movie?”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” Erica’s smile widened as she reclined against the back of her chair, a dreamy expression on her face. “If it’s a rainy Sunday afternoon, my favorite thing to do is curl up on the sofa with a packet of Tim Tams and watch An Affair to Remember.”

  “Haven’t heard of it.”

  “Corey!” Erica admonished. “How can that be? Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr in the most romantic movie of all time.”

  “Come on,” Griff chimed in. “You call martyrhood romantic?”

  Erica returned her attention to him. “You’ve seen it?”

  “My mother loves old movies.” It occurred to Griff that Erica would get on well with his mother. He quashed the random thought before it could take root. “I think I saw it twenty times growing up in that house.”

  “Then you know. They’re both involved with other people but the attraction is so strong that they have to be together.”

  “But then when she has the accident and doesn’t show up at the Empire State building, she never gets in touch with him to tell him why. That’s pretty stupid.”

  “How could she tell him she couldn’t walk?” Erica argued. “She knew she’d be a burden to him and she couldn’t bear that.”

  “Jesus, Erica. If he really loved her, looking after her wouldn’t have been a burden, and if she’d loved him she would have realized that. You know what I think? I think she never contacted him because she was scared—scared that he’d reject her because she wasn’t perfect.”

  “His name was Nickie.” Erica studied him with those soft brown eyes, as though trying to work out if he meant what he said or if he was having a lend of her. “And maybe she was right to be afraid. Nickie was used to ideal women, he fell in love with Terri when she was perfect in his eyes. How could she be confident he’d choose to be with the lesser version of her out of anything other than pity when he had so many other, easier options?”

  Griff got the strangest feeling they weren’t talking about the movie anymore. Familiar clouds had gathered in Erica’s eyes, and it was only when he recognized them that Griff realized why she looked so different tonight, so much more breathtaking than she ever had. It wasn’t only the incredible dress or the sultry makeup. The sadness he’d always sensed in her had lifted. Her smile tonight had been heartfelt, her manner lighter, even playful.

  Now, that aura of sorrow had returned, and Griff cursed whatever it was about this discussion that had brought it back. If she’d still been sitting forward, Griff knew he would have reached across the table to take her hand, so powerful was his desire to reassure her there was no need to be wary or frightened around them. The last thing he or Corey wanted to do was hurt her.

  Forcing himself to remain seated instead of going to her, Griff finally replied. “Love isn’t about doing what’s easy, Erica. Love is hard, and sometimes it hurts like hell. But it’s real and it’s human. It makes us what we are.”

  He hadn’t meant to sound so bloody deep and meaningful. He was trying to keep this thing purely sexual—at least as far as Erica was concerned. In Corey’s case, the love boat had left port years ago. But Griff figured he could still protect himself from Erica and the probability that she would eventually take Corey away from him. If he refrained from bandying the L word around like it held some special significance.

  It didn’t—couldn’t. He was going to have wild sex with Erica and Corey tonight simply because if he didn’t his brain might well explode. In every other way he had to keep himself separate or risk losing his mind.

  It was time to stop pussyfooting around Erica for Corey’s sake, because Corey still thought this could be some grand affair and he didn’t want to blow it by scaring Erica off again. Griff wasn’t so sure Erica was that easy to frighten, not the way she seemed tonight—calm, self-assured and confident.

  No more Mr. Nice Guy.

  “You know what? I never told you how damned delicious you look tonight, Red.” When the door had opened and he’d been bombarded by the twin enticements of Corey filling out his sexy blue shirt and Erica wearing a knockout green dress that skimmed her impressive curves, he’d nearly tripped over his own tongue. He was going to have to take better control of this situation—starting now. “Actually, I think the word I’m looking for is fuckable. You, Erica Shannon, look good enough to fuck, and once Corey and I get started with you, I don’t think either of us is going to stop until sunrise.”

  The sudden shift in Griff’s demeanor shocked Erica, but she stifled the gasp that threatened to pierce the quiet. The fragrance of blooming gardenia floated around them on a warm October breeze, mingling with the vanilla scent of the candles. The soft lighting and the comfortable conversation had lulled her into a sensual trance, keeping her desires simmering when they could easily have boiled over.

  Griff had gone to a lot of trouble to create a romantic atmosphere, and that had touched the traditional, feminine side of her that wanted to be romanced. Why would he do that if he was only going to revert to brash, blunt type?

  “I want you to go sit on Corey’s lap.” Griff’s voice was husky, his tone low. “Tell me if he’s as hard for you as I think he is.”

  Erica flushed hot, unspeakably aroused despite the instinct that told her she ought to be affronted. Beside her, Erica sensed the tension in Corey’s body. “Go easy, Griff.”

  Griff flicked Corey a look before returning his focus to Erica. “What do you say, Red? You want me to go easy on you?”

  This Griff was the man she knew, the one who’d initiated their first threesome, who’d taken what he’d needed from her on the hard floor of her living room without explanation. This man, she realized, was easier to handle than the one who’d stocked his fridge with the wine she liked and decorated their outdoor nook i
n candlelight, all so she’d feel more comfortable. Meeting Griff’s challenging gaze, Erica found that the answer came more readily than she would have expected. “No.”

  Griff smiled and there was something almost like pride in his expression. “There’s my girl. Now, go on and do what I told you.”

  Heart galloping, Erica pushed back her chair. Corey watched her approach, his blue eyes smoky. His chest moved up and down in the taut confines of his shirt and through the black material of his trousers she saw the bulge of his erection.

  Erica could hardly wait to feel that hardness against her, but when she went to sit down Griff stopped her. “Wait. Give me your panties.”

  This time her gasp was audible in the thick atmosphere. “Pardon me?”

  “You heard me. I want your panties, Red. Give them to me.”

  Wet heat pooled in the pit of her belly, sliding downward, spilling onto the underwear in question. He’d know how drenched she was if he had access to her panties. That’s probably the point, Erica.

  Slipping her hands beneath her dress, Erica pulled the underwear down and off. When she handed them over she really regretted that she didn’t own anything black and brief. Griff examined them, an amused smile tugging at his insolent mouth. “These are cute, but we’re going to have to buy you something prettier one of these days.”

  Then he brought the underwear to his nose and inhaled the perfume of her excitement.

  Erica’s knees buckled. Corey reached for her, grasping her by the hips and settling her onto his lap before she fell. “Hey, baby. Are you okay?”

  In answer Erica sought his mouth with her own. He responded with hunger, sweeping her up into passion even as his sturdy arms grounded her. The rock-solid length of him nudged her hip. When he lifted a hand and settled it over her breast, Erica wanted that fabric gone. She longed for the burn of his hands on her skin.

  “Turn her around so she’s facing me, Cor.”