He sighed with relief. “Right away.”
I grabbed my wallet from my purse and waited. And waited. And waited. What the hell? I thought the waiter was anxious to get rid of me. I turned to try and find him without success. When I turned back I glanced out the window—and there was Reid in his six hundred dollar tan pants, four hundred dollar white button down shirt, and eight hundred dollar shoes. He was good looking. I’d always thought so. On his arm was a young blond with a low cut pink top emphasizing her tanned breasts and a short black skirt, the hem emphasizing its lack of length.
“Here’s your check,” the waiter said. “I’ll be your cashier when you’re ready.”
Keeping my eyes on Reid, I pulled a credit card from my wallet and stuck it inside the tan faux leather folder. “Now’s good.” I watched my ex get into a cab and head east, probably heading to his place. My eyes burned. I wasn’t sure if the stinging tears were sadness or anger, but I decided to go with anger.
He smiled. “Be right back.”
I stared out the window for several long moments after Reid’s cab pulled away. I don’t know what I was looking for, if I was hoping to wake up and realize this was all a terrible dream or that unicorns and dragons were real and I could magic away the sickness that had taken root in my stomach.
Finally I tore my eyes away, pulled some lip-gloss from my purse and applied it.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
I froze, the lip-gloss wand mid swipe and turned.
CHAPTER 2
Katie
“Uh. Um.I—Griffin.” My cheeks flamed hot. I felt certain that if someone had cracked an egg, it’d fry up nicely on my face.
Griffin slid into the seat next to mine.
I put away my gloss and zipped my purse. My throat was suddenly parched and my heart raced like I’d just walked up ten flights of stairs. Tonight he looked less rock god and more billionaire playboy. He had on a navy suit, a crisp baby blue shirt, and a deep red tie. His hair had been combed back and he was cleanly shaved.
My thighs started to quake, remembering his lips on mine… and elsewhere. Shit!
I mentally took stock of what I was wearing. Old jeans and a ratty red sweater. I’d pulled my hair into a messy bun. I hadn’t put in my contacts, opting instead for my thick black-framed glasses. I’d remembered mascara, but basically I was sure I looked hideous.
“Hi.” I was torn between the desire to run at being caught off guard looking like a bag lady and the overwhelming need to climb into his arms and kiss his neck.
“How have you been, Katie Jayne?” His eyes twinkled with warm mischief. If he was grossed out by my appearance he was too much of a gentleman to show it.
“I’m fine.” I swallowed. “How are you?” Sweat beaded along my hairline and under the frames of my glasses. They started to slip and I pushed them back into place. I wanted to disappear.
“Good.” He reached out and took my hand. “But how are you really?” His stormy eyes searched mine. I noticed they were lined with a yellow ring. In the soft light they seemed to glow. It surprised me that he could read my emotions so easily. Was I that much of an open book? It also shocked me that he took the time. If the talk I’d heard about him held any truth, he was a man out to bed women, not make small talk…not give a shit about their personal lives.
I shrugged.
How was I, really? That was the two million dollar question.
Not happy, that was for sure. I felt foolish because I’d allowed myself to love someone I hadn’t really known. Sad, too. Reid and I had spent years together. Up until a couple of weeks ago I believed he and I would spend our lives together. My whole life had been planned out and Reid was in it. I’d intended to have children with that man.
I was also angry—furious, actually—that he’d played me. I’d gone to school to become a lawyer. I was supposed to be able to read people, and I’d totally misread Reid.
Griffin lifted my hand, interrupting my thoughts. “Katie?”
“I….” I shook my head. Griffin’s thumb stroked the inner part of my wrist. Electric currents shot up my arm, making it hard to think. “I’ve had better days.”
“Griffin.” A man’s voice barked from the doorway.
I followed the sound and noticed an extremely handsome older man shooting daggers at Griffin.
“Who’s that?” I asked. Griffin’s mischievous gleam was gone.
He dropped my hand. “My father.” He took a step, then turned back. “Nice talking to you.”
I watched Griffin walk over to his dad. It was strange; they looked a lot alike, but there was no warmth between the two of them. I couldn’t help but wonder what the story was between those two.
CHAPTER 3
Griffin
“What wereyou doing with that girl? Another nasty groupie?”
“She’s a friend,” I said, following after him and the hostess. I knew my father was referring to the way Katie had been dressed. I actually found her outfit sexy, incredibly hot. I wanted to take her hair from its messy bun and rip that red sweater from her body, kiss a trail down her chest to her stomach and slide those old jeans over her milky ass. I wanted to smell her skin. It reminded me of a flower-infused breeze and I wanted to explore every inch. Those thoughts made my cock jerk to attention. I wanted her. God, what was wrong with me?
Once my dad and I were seated my gaze wandered over to where Katie had been sitting. Her table was empty.
Fuck.
She’d been on my mind a lot over the last two weeks. It surprised me how much. I had her number but hadn’t used it. She had mine, although I doubted she realized it. I’d pulled up the text with her number on it several times. Even added her name to my contact list. It was a fucking shock. Calling her was out of the question.
My drummer had hooked up with her roommate. He’d told me about Reid and the scene in their apartment. And I was torn. I didn’t want to get her hopes up. Or mine. The plan for my band, for my life didn’t include a girlfriend.
“Griffin, did you hear me?”
I picked up my napkin and smiled. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. I’m not that hungry.”
My father glared. “Excellent.”
He gave our order to the waitress. He was the epitome of a gentleman, laying it on so thick it made me want to puke. As soon as she walked away the anger that had been a permanent fixture on my father’s face when it came to me was back.
“So tell me about your band? Any headway?” His smirk was laced with sarcasm.
There had been some headway. A scout from a prominent record label had approached me. I’d spoken to him a few times, but there’d been no commitment made. The label seemed to be mostly interested in me; they would bring in their own musicians. It wasn’t unheard of, but my band mates were more than just background noise, they were family. The label would sign all of Crushed Velvet or none of us. I’d made that clear. And, as expected, it’d been a few days since I’d heard from them.
It was disappointing, but there was no way I was dumping the rest of my band. If we were going to hit rock star status, it would be as a group. I didn’t need the money. We would wait until the right set of circumstances availed itself.
My father didn’t need to know that, though. I’d share when we had a contract.
“Not yet.”
The waitress brought us each a tumbler of iced bourbons. I hadn’t realized that was what my father ordered, but I was more than happy to drink it. I gulped down the liquid, enjoying the flavor and the burn. My dad was many things: arrogant, a liar, deceptive, and cruel. On the plus side, he had great taste in the world’s finer offerings, including women and alcohol.
“You’re wasting your time, Griffin. It’s embarrassing to have to tell my collogues that my son doesn’t want to go into the family business because he’d rather get on stage and sing to a bunch of drunken sluts.”
I gritted my teeth. Took another gulp of the liquid. “Tell me how you really feel.”
>
He leaned forward. “Stop being a fuck up.”
Fuck. You. I stared into the glass, watching the ice melt. We’d had this conversation more than once. I’d tried everything to make him understand. Sure, the endless line of women was awesome; no way I would ever complain about that. But it was so much more. Writing songs helped me deal with the death of my mom and the heartbreak of having a father who, when he looked at me, saw only a murderer.
Writing allowed me to deal with life—the good and the bad. I’d even started working on a song about Katie. It was a strange feeling when the words came to me about her. I’d never written a love song before. It evoked all sorts of strange emotions. Most of which I wasn’t ready to deal with. But that was one of the great things about writing a song.
“It’s what I want to do with my life.” I brought the tumbler to my mouth and scavenged for more of the fiery liquid. When it was gone I shook the glass at the waitress.
“Would you like another?” She batted her lashes.
“Thank you.”
She took my glass and walked away. My father took a sip of his drink, his eyes on the waitress’s ass. It was times like those that I wondered about the relationship between my mom and dad. What had it been like before she died? Had she loved him? Had he been kind to her? Watching the way his eyes slid over the girl’s body I thought I had a pretty good idea what sorts of thoughts were running through his mind.
“Life is about more than dicking around. You need to make a life for yourself.”
“I know.” Our weekly dinners were miserable. My father started them on my twenty-second birthday, but after seven years I still didn’t understand why my father kept them going. He seemed to hate them as much as I did. He hated me. That much had been clear a long time ago.
My father chuckled, a harsh, unfeeling laugh. “You don’t know shit. You stay out late, drinking and partying, wake up late, and consider it your job playing music and drinking beers with your buddies. That isn’t making a life for yourself, that’s wasting it!” He flung the words at me. They stung. I could see his point; in his eyes and probably in the eyes of a lot of people, I was wasting my life.
But that’s because they didn’t know me. They didn’t see that there was much more to what I did than that. And I accepted it.
Truthfully, I didn’t give a shit.
Maybe that was my secret trust fund talking. It probably was. Money would never be an issue—my mom had seen to that. It’d been her gift to me on my twenty-first birthday. My mom’s lawyer had shown up at school and advised me of its existence. He’d explained that I was never to tell my father. Mom wanted to keep it a secret. Sometimes I wondered why. What made her keep a billion dollar secret from my father? I doubted I’d ever find out, but I would keep her secret. It was easy.
My dad and I never talked. We argued and occasionally had a drink or a cigar together, but never fucking had a conversation.
If and when my dad decided to stop providing the lifestyle I was used to I’d tap into my mother’s gift, but only if necessary. I was still banking on Crushed Velvet making it big.
I leaned forward, wondering where the fuck that waitress was with my drink, when Katie walked back into the restaurant. She appeared frantic. Some unknown instinct demanded I help, but I resisted and kept my ass firmly planted.
The hostess walked over to her and they spoke. Katie kept indicating the table she’d been sitting at.
They walked over together and Katie picked up a pink scarf. Relief washed over her face. I wondered what was so special about it that she would make such an effort for something so trivial.
I watched her wrap it around her neck and thank the hostess. She glanced quickly over. Her beautiful eyes caught mine. I felt my breath catch in my throat, my father and his fucking ramblings forgotten.
I gave into my instinct, stood, and tossed the linen napkin from my lap onto the table.
“Where do you think you’re going? Our dinner hasn’t arrived.”
I glanced at him. Time seemed to stand still as I took in his furious features.
“I’ve got to go. Something urgent has come up.”
His mouth fell open. I was publicly shunning my dad, something that went against everything I’d been taught. With him I wasn’t a man of nearly thirty, but a boy. A needy, lost boy. And I despised the feeling.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me.” My father leaned into the table, his blue eyes shining with fury.
“See you next week.” I dropped a hundred dollar bill on the table just to rub salt into his freshly fileted wound and turned away.
Katie had already gone back outside. If she were taking a cab she’d be gone already. I hoped not, but either way I was done sitting through another scolding from dear old dad.
“Have a good night, Mr. Maxwell,” the hostess said.
“Thank you.” I didn’t bother to look in her direction. I focused on what was happening beyond the doors. I was looking for Katie.
Every fiber in my body wanted her, desired her.
Her body feathers mine
Fire stokes my veins
Intimate desire
She calls out my name…
The words fill my mind. I want to pause and type them into my phone so I won’t forget them. But I don’t have time.
Katie was at the curb, trying to hail a cab. I couldn’t help but admire her slim waist, the curve of her hips, and the way her calves flexed as she stood on her tiptoes. Her body was hot, even in the darkness.
She swayed and nearly fell backward. I stepped out and caught her just in time. Beneath the soft scent of her hair was the smell of alcohol.
“I have you,” I whispered, my lips touching the soft skin on her cheek.
She shuddered, her face turning so that her eyes could search mine.
That was all it took.
I was going to break my cardinal rule and fuck the same girl twice, and I was good with it. Fucking great, in fact. My lips found hers and I turned her so that her body, wrapped in that ridiculously gorgeous outfit, pressed against mine.
She felt good there, in my arms, with her lips against mine.
I pulled away just long enough to read her expression. Fuck yeah this was happening.
“Let me get a cab.” My words sounded gravelly.
In response she undid the button on my jacket and slid her hands around my waist. “Hurry,” was all she said.
CHAPTER 4
Katie
I was like an addict and Griffin was my fix. I craved him. Every cell in my body was attuned to his touch, to the way my body felt in his arms. Everything around us: the chilly night, our breaths making clouds in the air, the sounds of New York City at night, all of it seemed to blur into the background. It was just Griffin.
A small part of my mind wondered what he was thinking. I looked like a fucking orphan, yet he wasn’t discouraged. I could tell by the hardness pressed against my lower belly that he wanted me.
A cab pulled over and we climbed in. Griffin gave his address. I didn’t have it memorized or anything, but… okay, I knew that was exactly his address.
I didn’t dwell on it too much because his hand was on my thigh, stroking, caressing, his hand moving higher and higher. My body responded to his touch, yearned for more.
A fucking Griffin junkie. That’s what I’d become. I’d heard that a person could become addicted to heroin after one use. That’s all it took to develop an unquenchable need for the rock god.
The taxi pulled up in front of his building. Griffin paid and we got out. As soon as we were in the elevator his body pressed mine against the wall. His hands cupped my ass and I moaned against his mouth. His tongue shoved its way inside my mouth.
“Katie. Katie Jayne.”
I loved the way he said my name. “Yes?” I searched his face, looking for clues to what he wanted, needed. At that moment I’d give him anything.
His hands ran up my sides, along my breasts, and stopped, along with my heart, o
n my pink scarf.
“This is beautiful.” He rubbed his fingers over the material. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was a gift from my crazy parents. While they and I were as different as night and day, I appreciated the gift. It meant something coming from them.
“Thanks.” The word came out hoarse, like a frog had stolen my voice.
When the elevator opened whatever he’d been going to say was forgotten. Griffin picked me up, seeming desperate to keep me close. I clung to him while he opened his door and walked us into the bedroom.
Briefly I noticed his room looked the same. Clean. Perfect. It screamed of wealth and smelled clean.
Griffin sat me on his bed. He took the scarf from my neck and held it between his fists.
My heart raced. What were his intentions? It was a gift from my parents, so it couldn’t be anything sexual. That would just be weird.
“My parents gave me that on graduation day.”
He glanced at it again, and then took my purse and set them both on a chair near the door. Whatever his intent had been, he had changed his mind. I was glad.
“I’m going to get you naked and make you come over and over again.” His words seemed to go straight to my core and I was immediately wet.
I nodded, waiting. He slid off his shoes then took off his jacket and his tie. Mesmerized I watched him strip, fascinated by his hands. He pulled his shirt from his pants and undid the buttons.
A part of me was screaming that I should be taking off my clothes too. The sooner I was naked, the sooner he could make good on his words. But I couldn’t move. His fingers were at his belt, unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping.
I licked my lips.
He took off his pants and his socks. When he straightened my eyes went right to his cock. It pressed against his boxer-briefs, straining.
Boxed Set: Traitorous Heart Volumes 1-6 (The Traitorous Heart Series) Page 5