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eighteen

MIRA

“Shit.” Water splashes around me as I sit up in the massive jacuzzi tub.

Griffin smooths my hair away from my neck and presses a lingering kiss there. “What’s wrong?”

You steal all my sense every time we’re together and it’s only getting worse the closer we grow.

“My stupid car broke down, and I forgot all about it with all the”—I wave my hands around haphazardly—“distractions when I got home.”

Griffin’s body vibrates against my bare skin as he laughs, pulling my back against his chest where I’ve been snuggled since he washed my hair.

He washed my hair.

No guy has ever done that for me, and I can confidently say it was one of the most erotic, intimate moments of my life. Between the orgasms and the bath, is it any wonder I got distracted?

“Distractions, huh? Is that what we’re calling multiple orgasms these days?”

He sounds so self-satisfied. I want to be annoyed, but I can’t be.

Because yeah, Griffin gave me multiple orgasms. Multiple powerful orgasms without asking for anything in return or letting me wrap my lips around his cock.

Only an idiot would truly complain about something like that.

Though I did want his dick, and he only gave me his mouth.

Stupid rule. I know he wants me to give in and agree to be his wife forever. He wants me to call him my husband and tell our families and friends that we’re married and in love.

In love .

It’s crazy. Isn’t it?

“Well, those multiple orgasms distracted me from my piece of crap car, and now it’s probably too late to call a tow without paying extra. That’s how that works, right?” Hell if I know.

Griffin chuckles. “I don’t know, sunshine, but you don’t have to worry about your car.” His long fingers skim my sides and thighs, creating ripples in the hot water.

“What do you mean?” I ask, turning my head to look at him. He looks so peaceful and happy. Like this is the only place in the world he wants to be. Here, naked, and cuddled up with me.

“I mean, I was with Ryder when Lexi let him know you couldn’t get your car to start, so I had it towed to my mechanic’s shop.

” Griffin says all of that with the easy nonchalance of someone with money to burn.

I guarantee his mechanic charges way more than I can afford, and even though my savings account has rebounded some since moving in with Griffin and not needing to pay rent, it’s still depleted more than I’d like from moving twice in three months.

Moving isn’t cheap.

“And what did you tell your mechanic?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer. I was so relaxed, but now my stomach flips, filling with acid.

Those long fingers still, then Griffin wraps me in his muscular arms. His lips are centimeters away from my ear when he answers. “I told him to fix your car. You can’t drive around in something unsafe, Mira.”

“What if it’s more than I can afford?” I ask, my voice rising in pitch. “Is he going to call to get approval and give me a quote before he does anything?”

“No, baby, he’s not. Because you don’t need to worry about any of that.”

“Griffin,” I say, looking at him with wide eyes that probably look as panicked as I feel, “you can’t just tell me not to worry about something like that. I’m not… I don’t have a bank account full of disposable income like you and Maddy.”

“You do, actually,” the infuriating man says with a shrug.

Breaking out of Griffin’s arms, I spin to face him fully. I take a few deep breaths in an effort not to lose my absolute shit and pinch the bridge of my nose. “What?”

The man has the audacity to roll his eyes at me.

He rolls his eyes.

Hockey gods help him.

“You’re my wife, Mira. What’s mine is yours. So yeah, you do have a bank account full of disposable income.” His head cants to the side and his eyes narrow. “Actually, now that I think about it, I should add your name to my checking account and get you your own credit card.”

Breathe, Mira, breathe. Do not scream. Do not flip out. Do not murder the sweet idiot with the massive dick sitting in front of you.

“I don’t want your money, Wright.”

His straight nose wrinkles as he frowns. “It’s not just my money, Mrs. Wright.”

Narrowing my eyes at the use of his last name in place of mine, I nearly growl. “Swear to god, Griffin…”

“You can fight with me all you want, wifey, but I’m fixing your car.

It’s already there, and I’ve already given them my authorization to fix everything, then charge my card.

I don’t see what the big deal is. I’m your husband.

I care about you, and it’s my job to make sure you’re safe.

” He pauses, those multi-hued hazel eyes of his burrowing through me.

“I want to make sure you’re safe. And like you said, I have an account full of disposable income, so what’s the problem? ”

The problem? The problem is that if he keeps this shit up, I’m going to fall for him.

Then I’ll have to explain to my brother and my mom how we ended up married in Vegas after a drunken night of dancing, where I pressured Griffin into drinking too much.

I’ll have to look my brother in the eyes—my brother, who has always had his shit together—and tell him that, not only did I do something stupid and irresponsible, but that I basically instigated it.

All the work I’ve done to prove myself will disintegrate in a moment.

“I don’t need you to take care of me.” It’s the only thing I can think to say, and it sounds weak, even to my own ears.

Griffin’s handsome face softens as he reaches for me and tugs me into his lap, my knees straddling his thighs.

“Of course you don’t. You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

I know that. But I like taking care of you.

” He studies my expression, brushing a strand of dark hair behind my ear.

“It makes me happy that I can take some things off your plate, baby. Will you let me do that?”

I should say no. I almost do, but the look on his face kills me.

He’s so damn earnest and hopeful that I’ll let him pay for my car or make me dinner.

Griffin truly means it when he says that taking care of me makes him happy, and even if that didn’t pluck at some deep, secret desire in me, I’m not sure I could deny him.

Because I care about Griffin Wright. I want to make him happy.

But it scares the hell out of me that the thing that makes him happiest is taking care of me and making me happy.

Because this is something I’ve always wanted, right?

For a man to stick around and care about me enough to put in the effort.

I just never thought that man would be my brother’s best friend and that we’d end up together because of a drunken mistake.

I don’t know how to let go of that.

“Let me take care of you,” Griffin asks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please, sunshine.”

I’m weak, that’s all there is to it. Because, instead of telling Griffin no, I sigh and bury my face in the crook of his neck so I don’t have to face him when I say, “Okay, Griffy. If it will make you happy.”

Those strong, safe arms wrap around me again, pulling me flush against his naked body. It simultaneously makes me feel protected and needy, and I have to force myself not to grind against the hard length of him that’s just out of reach.

“It would make me so happy, Mira.” He kisses the top of my head. “You make me happy.”

“You make me happy too,” I whisper, as though speaking it softly will somehow make the words carry less weight.

Because I’m not all in—I still think this marriage was a mistake—but I can no longer deny that there is something here.

And maybe, in a different life, Griffin and I could have been soulmates.

A life where he wasn’t my brother’s best friend.

The best friend he made promise not to touch me.

The best friend he’d beat the shit out of if Griffin hurt me.

The best friend I know it would kill Maddox to lose.

This isn’t that life, though. Griffin and I both have so much to lose if—when—this ends badly. The problem is, I’m no longer sure that’s enough of a deterrent to keep me from doing something even dumber than marrying my brother’s best friend one drunken night in Vegas.

And that’s falling for my accidental husband.