The Shacking Up Series

by Helena Hunting

  I hitch a shoulder. “As long as I’m not going to run into any other family members you’ve accidentally slept with while in Vegas.”

  “You won’t. I promise.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I’ve only been shitfaced that one time since I’ve been here, and you’re the only other person I’ve been with.”

  He’s so sincere, so I concede. “Okay. Then yes, you can take me out for dinner.”

  “Are you still free tomorrow night? Or what about right now? You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I’ve been waiting out here since you said we could talk.”

  “That was hours ago.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t want to risk leaving and missing you.” He jams his hands in his pockets. “We could go to that diner you like with the shakes and the onion rings. Or if you want, we could go somewhere else. What are you hungry for? We could go somewhere nice if you’re up for it.”

  “You know, a big greasy burger sounds perfect.” I haven’t eaten much today, my stomach in knots over this craziness. Also, my outfit isn’t nice-restaurant appropriate.

  “Okay, greasy burger it is.”

  Griffin helps me into the car. I don’t have a change of clothes, so I’m stuck in my STW uniform of short shorts and a white tank through which my bra is visible. He apologizes another five hundred times—it’s more like two or three, but he’s pretty insistent about how sorry he is.

  “Look, I appreciate your dedication to letting me know how remorseful you are, but I think it’ll be easier to move on if we just let it go after tonight.”

  “Okay. I’ll stop.” He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “How are you otherwise? I mean, after you stayed over. Are you feeling okay?”

  “You mean other than being sore from the thrust-a-thon? I assume with enough practice I’ll get used to all the pounding.”

  Griffin coughs. “I mean, emotionally.”

  “Oh.” I look out the window. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me getting all clingy on you because you’re the only man who’s ever been inside me.”

  “You don’t have to be blasé about it.”

  “I’m not being blasé. I knew what I was doing when I seduced you. I know the limitations to this.” I motion between us and keep talking, mostly trying to reassure myself. “I’m not going to make this into something it isn’t, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “That’s not . . . I’m not worried about that.”

  We pull into the parking lot of Shakey’s, which I’m incredibly grateful for because I’d like to put an end to this conversation. The truth is, I like Griffin. Enough that I’ll deal with the fact that he was with my sister before he met me, so I might be lying about making it into something it’s not. But in a couple of months he’ll go back to New York, and I’ll have my internship, so this is as deep as we get to go. “Great. I’m freaking starving. Let’s go eat.”

  I get a burger with extra onions again and onion rings, intentionally this time. It’s a little strained between us, and uncomfortable, but Griffin asks me about work and school to keep the conversation flowing, and by the time I’m finished with my burger, things are less tense and more normal. Apart from all the stares I get for my STW uniform, anyway.

  Griffin drops me off at my apartment, and it gets awkward all over. “Can I see you again this week?”

  “Maybe.” I don’t want to give him a definitive yes and look like a complete pushover. I also need some space so I can get my emotions under control.

  “I’d like to take you out somewhere nice.”

  “Thousand - dollar - pair - of - shoes nice?”

  “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

  “Can I think about it?”

  His face falls, but he forces an understanding smile. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

  “It’s not a no. I want to see you again. I just need to figure out what I can handle when it comes to dates with you, okay?”

  “Would something casual be better?”

  “Let me sleep on it.”

  “Sure.” His eyes keep darting to my mouth.

  All I can taste is onions. I lean in and kiss him anyway. I rue the onions as soon as I do, because it feels like the lips on my face have a direct link to the ones south of my navel. I back off before I can do something stupid, like stick my onion tongue in his mouth.

  He rubs his bottom lip when I move away. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for being so persistent.” I collect my bag and get out of the car. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  He’s still sitting in his car when I step into the elevator. The doors close and I sag against the mirrored wall. My phone chimes with a text.

  I promise I won’t be someone you’ll think back on and regret.

  I want him to be right, but the thing about promises is that they’re fragile, and more often than not, they’re made to be broken.

  Chapter Twelve: Mr. Mogul Mills

  Cosy

  It’s been weeks since I found out my virginity thief slept with my sister. I recovered amazingly fast from that blow. Although that may be due, in part, to Griffin’s excessively remorseful, overly doting behavior. He’s taken me for fancy dinners, we’ve gone on dates, and we’ve had lots of sleepovers. I have, unsurprisingly, been the recipient of a countless number of orgasms.

  Griffin is a big fan of oral, both giving and receiving. Seeing as I spent all of my teens and the first two years of my twenties going without actual sex, I’m pretty good at the giving part. Griffin is also incredibly adept in this area. We have more than one orgasm battle and Griffin always comes out the victor, not that I mind losing since it’s technically also a win for me.

  I’m supposed to see him tonight, and sleep over again. Between my time with Griffin, working at STW, and classwork, I don’t have a lot of time for much else, which is fine. My sister is super happy about my situation, seeing as the groveling she expected from the most recent boyfriend didn’t go quite as expected. She’s also quit three jobs over the past several weeks.

  Since I’ve been out a lot, learning how to enjoy nice food and a lot of champagne and cocktails, my sister has been living off whatever is in my fridge. I often bring her leftovers since I haven’t been grocery shopping much.

  Griffin has started sending me lunch when I’m working at STW. At first all the doting freaked me out, but I realize this is his way of showing me he’s thinking of me. I also don’t want to hurt Griffin’s feelings, and he seems to derive an excessive amount of enjoyment out of doing these ridiculously unnecessary things for me.

  It’s all very relationship-y for two people who are supposed to be enjoying a couple of months together. I compartmentalize this time with him like it’s a series of events in a book, chapters I’ll sift through in my head years from now, when I’m wishing away the life I have for one I had for a few months.

  My preoccupation with Griffin means that today’s hotel management class “field trip” totally slipped my mind. I’m lucky that I dressed appropriately since we’re visiting one of the local hotel-and-casinos. It includes a tour and a lecture or whatever. Having grown up here, I’m not all that interested in working in a Vegas casino, but it’s a day outside of the classroom, and I might learn something interesting. We load up on a yellow school bus—I left the car for Nev this morning, so I don’t have a choice but to join my peers on the banana with wheels.

  “I can’t wait until we find out where we’re interning,” Helix says as we head for the Strip. Our class schedules don’t match, but all the hospitality students are going on this trip, which means we get the day to hang out.

  “I think I applied to, like, ten different places.”

  “Me too. You applied for the cruise ship, right?”

  I nod. “Four weeks on a boat is a lot, but it could be fun.”

  “Oh
yeah, totally. You applied to New York too.” She waggles her eyebrows.

  “I did, but they only take on two students a semester, so it’s pretty competitive.” I don’t want to get my hopes up about that one for a whole bunch of reasons, not least the fact that Griffin will likely be back in the city by the time the internship starts.

  “Worth a shot, though,” Helix says.

  It isn’t until we’re unloading that I realize we’re at Griffin’s hotel. We’re dropped off at a different entrance and herded into the lobby. This is kind of perfect. It’s too bad I don’t have a key card to his suite or I could surprise him. Regardless, this is way more convenient since he no longer has to come get me. It also means we might be able to get in a round of pre-dinner sex.

  I fire off a quick message to let him know I won’t need to be picked up this afternoon.

  “What’s that smile about?” Helix asks.

  “You know that guy I’m seeing?”

  She perks up. “As if I could forget that slice of hotness. What about him?”

  “He’s staying here.”

  “Oh, maybe you’ll run into him.”

  “Maybe.” I turn as a set of doors open across the expansive lobby. And there he is.

  I almost expect a chorus of angels to drop from the ceiling—wearing sequins, of course. My body instantly prepares for sex at the sight of him. Griffin is wearing a sharp black suit and an icy blue tie. His expression is serious as he strides across the open foyer, a woman in a pencil skirt with an iPad in her hand almost running to keep up. He nods at whatever she says and then looks in the direction of our group. His eyes snag on me and his steps falter, surprise arching his brow before a smile curves his lips.

  He does an about-face, throwing off the woman holding the iPad. He holds a finger up in her direction while he heads for me.

  Which is when I realize that despite the fact that I’m wearing a dress, it’s definitely not business wear. It’s a simple blue shirtdress with cap sleeves, paired with flats. And I have a backpack slung over my shoulder. He must miss this entirely, or just not care, because he keeps coming for me, smiling the entire time while the business lady chases after him in her extra-clippy heels.

  “Oh my God, he’s so freaking gorgeous,” Helix mutters in my ear.

  “I know.”

  “Cosy.” My name wraps around me, and so does Griffin when he pulls me in for a brief hug. He holds me at arm’s length, questions in his eyes. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “We have a facility tour today,” I tell him, hyperaware that people are staring and that the woman with the iPad looks like she wants to stab my eyeballs out with her stylus.

  “Mr. Mills, we need to go, sir.”

  His jaw ticks, but he turns, still wearing a smile. “Yes, Nancy, I’m aware.” He returns his attention to me. “I have a prior engagement, but I’m free later this afternoon, will you still be here?”

  “Sure. Yes.”

  His smile widens. “Excellent. By the way, you look lovely this morning, Miss Felton.” He winks and waves off Nancy, the annoyed iPad lady, as they stride away. She glances over her shoulder at me once, her expression pinched.

  “Everyone, follow me.” Ms. Castor snaps her fingers as she moves between the gaggle of college kids. She grabs my elbow as she passes and leans in to ask, “How do you know Griffin Mills?”

  “Uh, he’s a friend?”

  She gives me a look, one I can’t quite decipher, like she wants to be my best friend, but also wants to maim me for some reason. I get that he’s hot, but come on. I’m also confused as to how she knows who he is. Although if he works in the hotel industry and she teaches in the field, it could explain it. I feel like I’m missing something important here, but I’m not quite sure what.

  Another student rushes up to ask her a question, forcing her to let go of my arm. We pass through the grand, subtly lit, and very classy hotel lobby. It’s different than where my mom used to work as a dealer. This place reeks of money and sophistication.

  It occurs to me that in the weeks I’ve been seeing Griffin, we’ve never once passed through the lobby, opting for the private entrance he uses to access his suite. I file into a large room with rows of chairs set up in front of a podium and a table with microphones.

  I fight a cringe when Landon, a guy in my class who has made it clear he likes me, slides in front of me. I don’t have the heart to blatantly shoot him down because he’s super awkward and doesn’t seem to get the hint that I’m not interested. I try to file into the row behind him, but I’m redirected so I’m in the first row, right in front of the damn podium with Landon on my right. Thankfully, Helix is on my other side.

  “Your dress is nice,” Landon says.

  “Thanks.” I give him a tight smile and start unpacking my tablet so I can take notes if I need to.

  “I tried to cut him off, but he’s like a weasel, fitting into tight places,” Helix whispers in my ear.

  “You have great legs. You wear heels a lot, don’t you? I can tell by how defined your calf muscles are.” He leans down to touch my calf, and I jerk away. “What’re you doing for lunch?”

  “I don’t eat lunch.” It’s a lame lie, but talking to me about my calves is seriously inappropriate.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I already want to punch Landon in the face and we’ve only just sat down. I flip through the readings for today, most of which I skimmed this morning, apart from the keynote speaker information. I start scanning it so I get the gist of what I’m supposed to get out of this, and whether I’ll actually pay attention, or if I’ll make random notes on other projects while some blowhard talks about how he created an empire from nothing. The name of the speaker isn’t someone I recognize either.

  It doesn’t seem to dissuade Landon at all. He continues to pepper me with questions, and his face is literally an inch away from mine. I can feel his breath on my cheek.

  I’m momentarily distracted by the iPad lady who was in the lobby with Griffin. She’s all business as she sets everything up for the presentation. Two more women in suits and two more men file in, followed by Griffin who stands behind the podium.

  It takes a lot longer than it should for me to piece it all together. The first PowerPoint slide is a big help, but doesn’t match the name that was in the handout.

  Keynote Speaker: Griffin Mills of Mills Hotels

  I look at Helix, who is also looking at me with wide eyes. “Oh my God, that’s the Griffin Mills?”

  “It appears that way.” I’ve read about Mills Hotels, they’re literally everywhere. Except Vegas and a few other places. Harrison Mills inherited the company from his father, Corbin, and it’s been in the family for generations. What I failed to realize until now is that Griffin happens to be one of the sons who helps run the company and is in line to inherit it. I don’t know how I missed the connection, other than Mills is a fairly common last name. Or I was just blissfully naïve.

  Griffin’s been vague about his job, always saying he crunches numbers for his family business, passing it off as boring and unimportant. So I never pushed or questioned it.

  I quickly do a search for the Mills Hotel family. It doesn’t take much digging to find a picture of Harrison with his three sons. They’re all ridiculously good-looking. Griffin has a pretty sweet beard going on, which makes him look closer to his actual age.

  “That family is worth like eleventy billion dollars. Score, girl.”

  I’d like for that to be an exaggeration, however I’m not sure it is. “Look at me winning the jackpot.”

  Griffin smooths a hand over his tie and takes a sip of the water from the glass on the podium. His expression is serious, and there’s something in the way he’s fidgeting, as if he’s nervous. But he squares his shoulders and the hint of a smile makes him slightly less intimidating and a million times hotter.

  He scans the audience until his gaze finally falls on me. Surprise turns into disarmed understanding. He’s presenting t
o my class.

  The only man who has ever been inside me, the one I’ve started falling for, is a hotel mogul. And now here I am, sitting among my peers, holding my tablet hard enough to crack the screen, the divide between us as vast as an ocean.

  I pin him with a hard glare and mouth What the fuck.

  Because really, what in the actual fuck?

  Chapter Thirteen: Supply Closet Conversations

  Griffin

  The decade gap I usually ignore between Cosy and me becomes glaringly obvious as I stand at the podium and take in the sea of eager faces, knapsacks tucked at their feet, tablets, and an occasional notebook poised in their hands, waiting for me to begin. A few at the back are clearly texting based on the way their heads are down and they’re not paying attention to anything but their laps.

  Cosy, however, is sitting in the first row, directly in front of me. Judging from her expression, she’s as surprised to see me up here as I am to see her in the audience. Maybe I shouldn’t be, considering she told me she was on a facility tour. I just didn’t piece it together with what I’m doing right now.

  Yesterday, the speaker ended up having to cancel, which left them short a presenter. So when I was asked to take his place, I said yes, even though I prefer presenting in a boardroom.

  And now there’s a very sexy distraction sitting in the audience, wearing a gauzy blue shirtdress, belted at the waist. Like pretty much everything Cosy owns apart from jeans, it’s on the right side of too short. A lot of inches of thigh are exposed, and she keeps tugging at the hem to keep it from riding up. She’s paired it with gold ballet flats, and for some godforsaken reason her outfit is making me hard. Which isn’t great considering I’m standing in front of a room of twenty-somethings, and I need the blood flow to stay in the head on my shoulders so I can manage this presentation.

  The girl on Cosy’s right—who I recognize from the sex shop—whispers something, causing Cosy to blanch visibly. On her left is a guy; remnants of teen acne litter his jaw. He’s wiry and blond, the opposite of me. He leans into Cosy’s personal space every time he speaks to her, which is often. Back the fuck off, Bieber wannabe, she’s mine.