“Not at all.”
Spencer shifted until his head was resting on Griffin’s thigh, and Griffin placed his hand on the dog’s shoulder without even glancing his way. There was still so much love between them that Justine considered herself lucky there was any room left in Spencer’s heart for her.
chapter twenty-four
Hey.”
Justine thought she heard a voice calling to her through the darkness. Something touched her shoulder and she jumped.
“What?” she slurred in a sleep-drunk voice as she looked around the room with her eyes wide, trying to figure out where she was.
“You fell asleep,” Griffin said softly. “But you made it through two and a half episodes. I was watching you. You snore.”
Justine sat up and realized that she’d taken over more than half of the couch and that her feet were braced against Griffin’s thigh. He was pushed up against Spencer. “I’m so sorry,” she said, quickly pulling them away. “I guess I was overtired. What time is it?”
“Late,” he answered. “Time for bed.”
She stared across the room, still half out of it but not enough to keep the word bed from bouncing around inside her head.
“Okay. I need to wash up really quick; then I’ll head up.”
It hit her that Griffin was about to see her without makeup and her hair pinned back with half a dozen bobby pins, and she was about to see him in whatever he wore to bed every night. Which probably wouldn’t have stains.
Justine grabbed her toiletry bag and pajamas from her suitcase in the loft and headed downstairs to the only bathroom in the apartment. Griffin was making up the couch with sheets while Spencer stood next to him with a low wagging tail.
Once in the bathroom she took extra time washing and moisturizing her face and brushed her cowlick into submission. The mascot on her too-small camp T-shirt was bound to get a wisecrack out of him, so she fiddled with the broken zipper on her hoodie, hoping that it would miraculously start zipping. It wasn’t like she actually needed it since Griffin preferred the thermostat set to “tropical.” She pulled the sides of the hoodie across her chest like a wrap dress, took a deep breath, crossed an arm over her chest, and wrestled with the doorknob.
Griffin was sitting on the couch with Spencer dozing beside him, watching the end of the third episode of Galaxy Force.
Onscreen, young Anderson was having a moment with the beautiful cadet named Ardala who’d beaten him in a ramjet training race.
“They have great chemistry,” Justine said, standing a safe distance from Griffin in front of the bathroom.
Griffin nodded. “The rumor is that he swept her off her feet and stole her away from her husband, then dumped her.”
She studied Anderson. “He was so young. It’s crazy to see him looking like that.”
“Why? Does he look terrible in person now?”
Justine couldn’t believe that she hadn’t thought of it sooner. It was perfect.
“Wanna see for yourself?” She smiled as the idea took shape.
“What do you mean?” Griffin sat up straighter as if he understood what she was saying but couldn’t believe it.
“Come visit the set.”
“Seriously? Hell yes, Justine! That would be amazing.”
She grinned back at him like a dork.
“Perfect. We’ll find a day when you’re in town and I’ll sneak you on.” She whistled for Spencer and he picked up his head to look at her, then immediately plopped it back down. He’d picked his bedmate and it wasn’t her. She ignored the tiny spark of jealousy.
“Guess I’m sleeping alone tonight,” she said before she realized how it sounded. She gave Griffin an awkward wave. “Good night. Thanks again for everything.”
“Yup, no problem. Sleep good.”
Sleep.
Like that was going to happen.
* * *
• • •
Spencer joined her in bed thirty minutes later. Justine could still hear Griffin moving around on the couch just below her, probably trying to get comfortable. A heavy exhale. A cough. She tried to keep still just in case he was listening to her noises too. Even though the streets right outside the window were an orchestra of beeps, crashes, and sirens, the silence inside the apartment was louder.
She was wide awake, and based on the sighs and sheet rustling, he was too.
And now she had to go pee.
The second the thought entered her mind all she could do was think about peeing, which made the feeling that much more urgent. But going to the bathroom involved the double whammy of not only going into the Griffin zone near the couch, but also having him hear her peeing. But there was a chance she’d suddenly get shy bladder because she knew he was just a few feet away on the couch and wouldn’t be able to go after all, and she’d wind up sitting in the bathroom praying the pee would finally come while he wondered what the hell she was doing for so long.
When Justine finally felt like her bladder was going to burst, she crept out of bed and down the metal stairs, hoping that Griffin had fallen asleep in the past four minutes. He was on his side facing the wall, so she tiptoed into the bathroom, did the weird lift-and-turn thing to close the door, and took the stealthiest pee of her life. The flush-or-don’t-flush conundrum stalled her for a few seconds, but she opted for flush slowly. She washed her hands and checked herself out in the mirror in the dim glow of the night-light.
Sleepy eyes, with a few pillow creases on the side of her face. But totally presentable if he happened to roll over and catch her sneaking around his apartment.
The doorknob was prone to overloud clicks and squeaks, so she came out of the bathroom in a hurry, plotting how she was going to get past Griffin again without waking him up. Her sole consideration was the sound of her feet padding from the tile of the bathroom to the creaky wood floor outside. She was focused downward on her chipped red pedicure, willing herself to levitate silently back to bed, when she plowed directly into Griffin’s bare chest.
“Whoa!” she yelped.
“Sorry!”
The glass of cold water he was carrying emptied onto her T-shirt and the oxygen was sucked from her lungs by the shock of it. But the only thing that she could focus on as they collided was not the fact that the water had made her basically topless or the pain of his foot smashing into hers, but how shockingly soft his skin felt beneath her fingertips. Both of her hands were magnetized to him, and she grasped his shoulder and biceps a few seconds longer than necessary, as if she was about to fall and needed to steady herself.
Solid. So solid. In an instant she cataloged the nuances of his torso so she could think about it when she was back in bed, alone. The hard mound of his shoulder under her left palm, the tense curve of his biceps flexing in her right hand. She had to force herself to keep from sliding her hands along the rest of the peaks and valleys of his body.
His free hand was on her elbow, but it felt like it reached all the way up the back of her arm and was leaving a scorch. He didn’t let go of her either, and in that instant they both knew they were holding on to each other for way longer than was necessary. And neither one wanted to stop.
Griffin let go first.
“I needed a drink.” He held the now-empty glass out. “That went well. Really sorry about your shirt.”
She could tell that he was doing everything in his power to keep his eyes locked on hers since the water had turned the white T-shirt invisible, which also prevented her from sneaking a peek at his chest. After a few seconds of excruciatingly polite eye contact, Justine started to feel like she was breathing weird, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the shock of the cold water gluing her T-shirt to her skin or the fact that she was desperate to find a reason to touch Griffin again. She shifted from one foot to the other so that he couldn’t tell that she was trying to slowly inch closer to him.
“Do you need something else to wear?” His voice was low as he gestured to her chest. He never looked away from her eyes.
Justine shook her head slowly. “I’ve got plenty of T-shirts in my suitcase.”
“Of course you do.” The corner of his mouth turned up as he said it and he leaned against the wall. “But are any of them as worn in and comfy as”—he finally glanced down at the logo on the front of her shirt—“as Camp . . . wait, what does that say?”
“Camp Beaver Basin.” She said it in a fast whisper. “Obviously, that’s the reason I only wear this one to bed.”
Griffin’s mouth dropped open. “Please tell me that’s a real place.”
“My old summer camp,” she replied.
“And the mascot is . . .” He broke off to glance at her chest again. “A beaver making a . . .” He moved closer and Justine caught her breath when she realized that Griffin was just a few inches away from her wet-T-shirt-contest-worthy nipples.
“A dream catcher,” she whispered, standing still. She swore she could feel him breathing on her.
Griffin was so focused on deciphering the logo that his proximity to her chest didn’t seem to register until he jerked up abruptly.
“Are you, uh, are you cold?” He shut his eyes for a moment when he seemed to realize how it sounded after examining her chest up close and personal.
“A little.”
“Okay. You should probably change, then.” He murmured it, like it was an afterthought and not something she should seriously consider.
Justine nodded but didn’t move. She finally let her gaze drop to his chest and immediately wished she hadn’t, because all she wanted to do was flatten her palms against his smooth skin. She looked a little lower, just below the abs she hadn’t been lucky enough to touch, and saw the top of his briefs cresting above his thin gray pajama pants. The little strings that sat just below his belly button were barely crisscrossed.
She blinked and softly cleared her throat.
The silence stretched on as they stared at each other in the darkness. They both seemed to realize that any sudden movements or voices above a whisper could jolt them back to tenant and landlord.
Justine shivered and reluctantly crossed her arms over her chest, hoping that Griffin wouldn’t notice. Sure, she was cold, but there was no way she could walk away from him. From whatever was about to happen between them.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a moment of free fall, a pause between the notes.
“Griffin?” Justine finally said softly.
He didn’t answer but instead closed the space between them until he was just inches away and looking down on her. He was so close that she could smell hints of something clean and piney around him and almost feel his heat bouncing off her damp chest. Instead of touching her he stood with his arms at his sides and studied her face, staring into her eyes for a few seconds, then letting his gaze drift down to her mouth, then back up to her eyes.
Justine tipped her head back a little, hoping he’d lean down and finally do the very thing she’d been imagining since the first time she saw him in the park. But Griffin continued breathing her in until she started to question if she was imagining the chemical reactions happening between them.
When she couldn’t bear the wait another second longer he finally, finally reached out and cupped her cheek gently, like she was something precious and fragile. He traced his thumb along her cheek, causing goose bumps to ripple up and down her arms. Then another agonizing wait, staring into each other’s eyes, until he lowered his head and gently brushed his lips against hers.
Everything fell away in a jolt the moment their mouths touched. The wet T-shirt clinging to her breasts, the traffic noise outside, Spencer’s soft snores drifting down from the loft. How could Griffin’s lips be so soft? She trembled more from the sensation of his mouth on hers than the shock of the cold water on her skin a few minutes before.
He was tentative at first, like he wasn’t sure how she’d respond to the kiss, but Justine reached up and threaded her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer so that his mouth was crushed on top of hers. She rose up on her toes and locked her arms behind his head so he couldn’t slip away, though based on the low groan he let out against her mouth it wasn’t likely he wanted to. Griffin’s strong arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her closer to him until her wet T-shirt hit his bare chest. He contracted reflexively from the cold, then pressed up against her again.
“You’re freezing,” he whispered through the kiss.
“No, I’m not,” she rasped back at him.
She felt him smile against her mouth, then teasingly nip her lip.
Griffin’s hands roamed from the small of her back up to her shoulders as they kissed, sending shock waves everywhere he touched. Justine felt shaky as his mouth slanted against hers, and it was such an unfamiliar sensation that for a moment she wondered if Brooklyn was experiencing an earthquake. If every kiss she’d ever gotten in her lifetime was to be measured against this one, Justine quickly realized that Griffin had ruined them all in the span of a minute.
He tightened his arms around her and lifted her off the floor a few inches, then walked her backward without taking his mouth off hers, until her body was flush against the wall. Griffin set Justine down gently, gazed at her for a minute with a small smile, then hungrily angled his mouth over hers again, like he was claiming her.
When the thoughts started intruding and pulling her focus away from the kiss that was literally making her knees weak Justine batted them down impatiently. All that mattered was not stopping.
But the word trajectory bounced into her head as Griffin’s hands slipped down her body to graze her ass. And hiatus. And the realization that next week when she was back in his apartment he’d be gone again. When Griffin dropped his mouth to kiss her neck she loosened her grip ever so slightly. He pulled away as if he could sense her hesitation.
“Are you okay?” he asked, a little breathless.
Justine didn’t answer right away. Everything inside her was screaming to keep going until they both ended up sweaty and satisfied. If Griffin hadn’t stopped they probably would’ve, but giving her the opportunity to think without his lips against her brought everything into a sharp, depressing focus.
She leaned her forehead against his chest and waited for her heartbeat to slow before saying anything. It was also a test to see if she could resist the pull to kiss him again.
“This probably isn’t a good idea.”
Griffin let out a long, ragged sigh.
“I was worried you were going to say that,” he said softly and rested his cheek on the top of her head. He linked his hands together on her lower back, like they were slow dancing in a school gym.
“The timing isn’t right for either of us. You said as much.”
“That fucking trajectory,” he growled softly.
She nodded, and they were silent for a few minutes, still wrapped around each other.
“I think it’s best if we stop now and pretend this didn’t happen,” Justine finally said.
“Well, that’s not going to be easy,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m going to think about it every time I look at you.”
“But you know I’m right.”
He didn’t respond but she felt him nod. They kept their arms encircled around each other, and even though they were negotiating how to walk away from what had just happened, neither one seemed especially eager to make it happen.
Justine eventually untangled herself slowly and headed to the stairs without looking at Griffin, because if she did she wouldn’t be able to resist the magnetic pull back into his arms.
She padded up the steps silently and slid into bed next to Spencer. Griffin’s breathing below her kept her awake for an hour before she fell asleep.
chapter twenty-five
I miss her every day,” Frank Mancini said as he placed Flossie on the Tricks & Biscuits counter in front of Justine so she could admire the little dog. Spencer hopped up on the edge of it to say hello but backed off the second Flossie raised her lip at him. He knew better than to tangle with the ten-pound terror, so he curled up in his bed behind the counter.
“How long were you married?” Justine asked.
“Fifty-one beautiful years. Today would’ve made it sixty. I can’t believe Ada’s been gone so long.” He sighed and gave Justine a sad smile. He seemed to hunch over even more, as if the weight of his loss was a physical burden. “I wish you could’ve known her.”
“Me too, Frank,” Justine replied and reached out to place her hand on top of his. “I bet she was wonderful.”
Frank had been one of Tricks & Biscuits’ first customers and went on to become such a regular shopper that he could make product recommendations to anyone who walked in the door. Justine had been shocked to learn that he’d been a fairly popular singer-songwriter in his youth and she’d convinced him to play his guitar at one of T&B’s popular Yappy Hours. Whenever he was in the shop with a crowd of people she always made sure to turn on his most famous song and brag to everyone that the white-haired gentleman with the adorable Yorkie was the one singing.
“We met at her father’s deli. Did I ever tell you that?”
Justine shook her head.
“She worked the counter. She was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, but was she ever mean.” He shuddered. “Never smiled, only worked. I’d try to talk to her every time I went in, but all she wanted to do was slice my salami and get me out of there.”
“So how did you win her over?”
“Perseverance,” Frank replied with a wink as he took a sip from his coffee cup. “And lots of salami.”
They laughed together.
“I haven’t seen that Nick in a long time. What’s he up to?” Frank asked.
Justine choked on coffee. “‘That Nick’ isn’t around anymore, Frank. We broke up a while ago.”
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