Page 52

Danae

Searching Griffin’s face, I see the pain etched there. Pain that’s usually buried below the surface of his easy smile and charisma. But there’s a vulnerability there now, a piece of him that he seems reluctant to admit exists.

Based on the reluctance and shame in his voice, I know he doesn’t see it this way, but that vulnerability is incredibly attractive. Irresistibly attractive.

My heart goes rogue and overpowers my brain’s processing speed. Consequently, my mind can’t think through my actions before I lean up on my toes and press my lips to his.

Griffin’s surprise is evident in the slight flinch of his lips upon initial contact, but he overcomes the shock in record time. His hands are instantly in my hair, holding my lips to his as though he’s pictured this moment as obsessively as I have.

Rational thought tries to remind my brain that we still have more to talk about. This is a serious moment that requires more discussion. But the feather-like movement of his lips against mine halts logic before it can yank me away from him. My entire body floods with heat as I relish the sweetness of Griffin’s kiss, the soothing melody his lips sing to mine.

We slowly and barely draw back from each other. His mouth is still a breath away from mine when I whisper, “I’m not sure why I did that.”

“Do you regret doing that?” Griffin asks, voice laced with restraint.

I ever so slightly shake my head. “No.”

It’s all the permission he needs to claim my lips again, one arm wrapping around my waist to pull me closer to him, his other hand firmly clasped behind my head. He pivots us so my back is against the counter, and my hands slide up his chest and around his neck. As his tongue traces my lips, I sigh into his mouth, which only serves to turn up the temperature of his kiss. After a light groan, Griffin abruptly pulls away and rubs a hand down his face.

“Hold on, there’s still more we need to talk about,” he says. He takes a step back to lean against the opposite counter, putting a couple feet of space between us. “Even if the idea of kissing you has infiltrated my every waking thought this week, I came into tonight prepared to be honest with you. And to ask you some honest questions in return.” He looks at me with a glimmer of darkness in his eyes. My cheeks flush in response. “But the reality of kissing you is going to take over everything if I don’t hit pause.”

The realization of what I just did floods over me.I kissed Griffin West. He was trying to have an honest conversation, and I totally ambushed his lips without asking. Oh my gosh—does he think I’m some floozy throwing myself at him? Does he realize how out of character that was for me, or does he assume I’m showing my true nature—throwing my lips at men?

My brain halts as Griffin steps forward and grips my face between his hands. “I need you to translate the thought factory for me. I see it swirling.”

I bite my lip, terrified about what he must think of me. His thumb brushes over my lip, tugging it free from my teeth. “Without doing that, please,” he murmurs, voice laden with heat.

“I’m worried about what you might think of me when I just kissed you when you were in the middle of opening up about your injury,” I hesitantly respond.

Griffin tilts his head to one side. “What I think of you? I think you’re the most intriguing, empathetic, compelling woman I’ve ever met. Add sexiest to that list as well.” Heat floods my cheeks again, and he brushes a thumb across one of them. “And I’m mystified that you would wantto kiss me after I confessed to being an arrogant idiot. I was sure you’d be turned off by the admission of my ego.”

I slowly shake my head. “You were being honest and vulnerable about how you felt. That’s not a turn off.”

His hands slowly drop from my face, finding my hands instead. “I’m not usually very good at being vulnerable. This is a concerted effort. Because I know we need to talk about the hard things if this is going to be real.”

I want this to be real, I think as I stare into his gray eyes.

“Baseball ruined my last chance at a happy childhood,” I suddenly state. Griffin’s eyes spark with confusion. I sigh. “That sounded dramatic.”

“That did sound a touch dramatic,” Griffin replies with a smirk. His smile softens. “But it must have felt dramatic for you to say it.”

I’m so tempted to pick every last fleck of polish off of my nails, but Griffin’s firm yet gentle hands hold mine still. “I’ve told you a little bit about my upbringing,” I begin, and he nods in understanding. “When I was in elementary school, I always felt uneasy at home. At school. Everywhere. My dad was constantly scheming ways to elevate our finances, our status as a family. Turning family dinners into board room strategy meetings. It was so disorienting, like we were constantly in danger of losing everything, when now I understand that we weren’t.”

I focus on the comfort of Griffin’s hands around mine, forcing myself to continue speaking. “I had a hard time making friends at the private school I attended. Even there, social status was the undercurrent of relationships. And my dad’s voice was always in the back of my mind reminding me who to talk to, who to befriend for the sake of our family’s gain. It felt like a chess game that I didn’t want to play, but I still tried. It was such a messed-up way to approach childhood friendships. What kind of kid thinks that way?”

Griffin’s eyes are full of compassion. “It wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have had to think that way.”

I sigh. “I had a cousin on my mom’s side, Nina, who was my age. We had the best times together at my grandparents’ house over holidays, and it felt like she was my one true friend. Someone I could be myself around without pretense. When I was in fifth grade, her family movedhere to the Kansas City area. I was elated—I thought I’d finally get to see her regularly and have arealbestfriend.”

Pausing to collect my thoughts, I stare at the floor. It was so long ago, but the disappointment of young Danae is still so fresh in my mind. “Nina’s older brother played baseball, and their dad was overbearing about it. Expected him to be the best of the best, all the time. So he was on the most competitive teams year-round, constantly traveling to tournaments, especially over the summer. Baseball took over their lives. Nina’s life, by association.” I shrug my shoulders. “I tried going with her to a couple of games that first summer, but it was so hot and boring. And her dad would yell at us if we were goofing off with each other instead of paying attention to the game to cheer for her brother. So I stopped asking my parents if I could go, which worked out better for them anyway. Pretty much, I never saw Nina. My chance at having a best friend I could be myself with was ruined by baseball. I’ve hated the sport ever since.”

I finally look up, expecting to see skepticism or judgment on Griffin’s face. I’m not prepared to see him looking at me with tenderness.May as well tell him everything.“Also,” I continue, “I think baseball is unbearably boring.”

Griffin’s head falls back as he roars with laughter. He pulls me to his chest, which still vibrates with his resounding laughs. I loop my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest, taking a deep inhale of his spicy, manly scent. “You’re not mad at me?”

My senses of smell and touch protest when he pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. “Not mad. I’ll admit—a little bewildered that you could think the greatest sport of all time is boring, but we’ll work on that.”

I shoot him a sassy look, which makes him grin. “You cannot approach this relationship expecting to change my mind about baseball,” I say, suddenly serious. “Us working out can’t be contingent upon me developing a love for baseball.”