Page 17

CHAPTER 17

CHRISTINE

B y the time I make it home from school, I’m exhausted. I’m not like most people my age; I can’t stay out late the night before without it affecting me the next day. Plus, sitting in traffic didn’t help improve my energy level any.

My backpack gets set on the floor next to the table I drop my keys on. Slipping off my shoes, I hang my jacket on a hook, then make it as far as the couch before the urge to lie down overtakes me.

Maybe if I rest my eyes for a few minutes, I’ll feel better. I already have homework that needs to be done, and I’m not one to put it off. I like to stay ahead of schedule and not procrastinate. I find the sooner I knock out my assignments, the less stressed I feel.

“Christine. Wake up, sleeping beauty.” I feel a gentle caress on my cheek, and my eyes slowly flutter before opening wide.

Griffin leans over me, looking concerned. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up. “What time is it?”

“Just about seven.”

“Oh shoot. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“No worries. You obviously needed to rest. I grabbed dinner on the way home.” My stomach growls loudly, and he chuckles. “Sounds like you’re hungry.” He gives me his hand, pulling me to my feet, and I follow him to the kitchen. There are containers of food laid out on the island.

“Something smells amazing. What did you get?” I ask.

“Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and mac and cheese.”

“Holy heart attack,” I say, but it doesn’t stop me from heaping everything onto my plate.

He smiles. “One night of splurging won’t kill you.”

“I’ve been indulging a little too much lately thanks to someone.” I bump his hip.

“Are you insinuating I’m a bad influence?” he asks, feigning a look of outrage.

“If the cleat fits.”

He grins. “Very punny.”

Snickering, I pass the spoon for the mashed potatoes to him and then drizzle gravy on my plate.

“Let’s sit at the table,” he suggests.

“Sure.” We settle across from one another and begin consuming our food. After a few minutes, I get up to grab a drink. “Want anything?” I ask, opening the fridge.

“Water, please.”

I remove two bottles and return to my seat, handing one to him.

“Thanks.” He cracks it open, taking a sip.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for grabbing dinner. Everything is delicious. I haven’t had fried chicken in ages.”

“Me either, and it’s hitting the spot right now.”

“Comfort food for the win.”

“So, how was your day?” he asks between bites.

“I had a long break between classes, which made the day feel endless, and I hit horrible traffic on the way home just like you said I would.”

“That sucks and explains why you crashed down here.”

“Yeah, I barely made it through the door. There was no way I was gonna make it up the stairs to my room.”

“That couch is a wonderful place to nap,” he says.

“Yeah, I guess so. I don’t even remember nodding off.”

“I’ve done that myself many times. I may have even spent a night or two there.”

I pick up the bottle of water and open the cap. “Well, there’s no way it beats my bed. That mattress is like sleeping on a cloud.” I take a deep pull of water.

“Wait till you sleep in my bed,” he says.

Coughing, I cover my mouth with my hand. He stares at me with eyes lit with humor.

I raise an eyebrow. “Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Hey, all I’m saying is my bed is amazing and you might want to try it out.”

“What reason would I have to do that?”

“Didn’t you ever read Goldilocks and the Three Bears ?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, my bed is just right.”

“With you in it or without you?”

“It’s fantastic both ways, but if I’m there, you get orgasms too.”

I slap my hand to my forehead. “Jesus, Griffin. What kind of dinner conversation is this?”

He chuckles. “Conversations about you in my bed and me giving you orgasms are my new favorite kind.”

“You should come with a warning label: May bring up inappropriate topics unexpectedly.”

One side of his mouth tips upward. “What can I say? You bring out this side of me. Who’s the bad influence now?”

I shake my head. “No way.”

“So what do you think about trying my bed out?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

My lips curve as I try to hold back laughter. “It’ll take more than your good looks to get me in there.”

“I don’t think you can say that with complete certainty until you see me naked.” I throw my napkin across the table and he catches it. “What? I’m only being honest.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grins. “Consider it part of my charm.” He tosses my napkin back to me.

“You never told me about your day.” I quickly opt for a new subject.

“You never asked.”

“Touché. You’re right, but I’m asking now.”

“We watched enough film to make my eyeballs bleed and then Thor and I hit the gym for a workout.”

“Did it help lessen your aches and pains?”

“A little, but not as much as a massage would.” He tilts his head from side to side, stretching out his neck. “Want to give me one… in my bed?”

“Behave.” I widen my eyes at him like a mom scolding her child.

“But being bad with you is so much fun,” he says, winking.

I shovel another bite of potatoes in my mouth and mumble, “This is so good.”

A laugh rumbles from him. “Okay, I get it. I won’t tease you anymore. At least not until you’re done eating.”

“I appreciate your restraint,” I say with a smirk. “Though, I have to admit, your shameless flirting is somewhat entertaining.”

Griffin grins. “Only somewhat? I’ll have to step up my game.”

I laugh and hold up a hand. “Please don’t. I can’t handle much more.”

Even though he’s temporarily agreed to let me steer the conversation in a safer direction, I know his naughty quips are on standby, ready to be released at the first opportunity.

“So, tell me about the film you watched today. Was it from yesterday’s game?”

“Some of it was. Coach loves to point out our mistakes and embarrass us so we won’t fuck up again.”

My nose wrinkles. “Oh, damn. That sounds horrible.”

He laughs. “It sucks when it happens to me, but it also makes me a better player.”

“How do you figure?” I ask.

“Being humiliated in front of your teammates leaves a lasting impression on your psyche, so you don’t make the same error again.”

“That kind of pressure would make me nervous, and I’d be more apt to screw up,” I say, my gaze tracing over his facial features, taking in his thick, dark eyebrows that perfectly frame his expressive eyes. His straight nose has a small scar slashing across the bridge. Was he in a fight, or is it a casualty of battling on the football field?

“We also studied film of our opponents, and that was more enjoyable.”

“What kinds of things do you learn by watching?”

“We gain different insights about their strengths and weaknesses. There’s a lot to it.”

“Tell me more.”

“I could go on about this all night,” he warns.

“I’m not saying I want to learn everything, but I’d like to hear more.”

Griffin pushes his plate aside and leans forward, bracing his arms on the table. “We observe how the team lines up in different situations—like first down, second down, third down, and the red zone. By doing this, we can recognize offensive and defensive patterns, which enables us to find ways to exploit their weaknesses and put us in the best position to win.”

“Jeez, that sounds like war.”

“It is, in a way. It may not be life or death, but it’s still a battle.”

“How do you keep it all straight in your brain? You have enough to think about with your team’s plays.”

“Every week we do a lot of studying and practicing, and by the time the game rolls around, we know everything we need to.”

“It sounds daunting,” I say, placing my silverware on my plate.

“I’m used to it now.”

As I stand, Griffin reaches out and gently grasps my arm. “I’m sorry if I went overboard and made you uncomfortable in any way.”

I meet his earnest gaze. “It’s okay. I know you were joking around.” His thumb traces small circles on the inside of my wrist, sending tingles up my arm and shooting down to my vagina. What strange magic does he possess over my body?

“Was I, though?”

My breath catches as I stare into Griffin’s intense eyes. The playful mood from earlier has shifted into something charged with tension and possibility. My heart races as I struggle to form a coherent response.

“Griffin…” I start, trailing off when I don’t know what to say.

He stands slowly, not releasing my wrist, and moves around to my side of the table. We’re suddenly so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. His other hand comes up to gently cup my cheek.

“I don’t want to ignore my feelings for you anymore,” he murmurs.

“You have feelings for me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Real feelings?”

“Yes, and they grow every day.”

“I…” I struggle for a response.

“Tell me you feel the same,” he husks.

“I do, but?—”

“No.” He cuts me off. “No buts. I like you and you like me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m tired of holding myself back when all I want is to kiss you.”

I want to kiss you too.

“I don’t want to be your convenient hookup because we live together.”

“Is that what you think you are to me? Just someone to mess around with because you’re here?” he asks, looking wounded by my words.

“No, I don’t want to think that, but…” I shrug. “I don’t know why you’re interested in me.”

He tugs me closer, slipping his arms around me. “You’re intelligent, witty, kind, beautiful.” He smiles. “I can keep going if you’d like.”

I shake my head. “That’s not necessary.” My hands move up to circle the back of his neck.

His face inches closer to mine. “How would you feel about dating me?”

“I guess I need to know what your version of dating entails.”

“Well, we spend as much time together as possible, taking things at whatever speed you’re comfortable with.”

I study his face for a reaction. “What if I say I don’t want to have sex with you?”

“That depends on if you mean ever or for the time being.”

I laugh. “Just for now. I’m not into casual flings.”

“My feelings for you aren’t casual, and I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

“You might be waiting longer than you think,” I caution.

“Would it surprise you to know I haven’t had sex in months?” he asks.

“Yes. Why is that?”

“I got tired of hooking up with women I don’t care about. I must’ve been waiting for you.” He rests his forehead against mine.

My fingers burrow into the hair at the nape of his neck. “That’s sweet.”

“I mean it.”

Rising on my toes, I press my lips to his. He gently cups my cheek, his mouth soft yet sure as he kisses me. A moan slips from me as his tongue meets mine, warm and insistent. The taste of him is intoxicating, sending a dizzying thrill through me. My palms glide over the expanse of his broad, muscular shoulders, then trace the firm and rounded contours of his biceps. Moving back to his shoulders, I trail down his chest where my fingertips meet the hard press of solid muscles. Each ridge and hollow is a testament to his focus and incredible work ethic.

He traps my hands with his, preventing me from moving them further. “You’re playing with fire. I’m trying to follow your rules.”

He’s right. I was so overcome by his gorgeous body, I forgot myself.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I want to tear your clothes off right now, but we should take things slow.”

Staring up at him, I rake my teeth over my bottom lip. “This might be harder than I thought.”

“That’s what she said,” he says, smirking.

I snort. “And on that note, we should clean up this kitchen.” He releases me from his hold, but not before he kisses my forehead.

“Let’s knock it out.” He clears everything from the table in one fell swoop, carrying it to the sink, while I move to tackle the containers on the island. After I’ve put all the leftovers in the fridge, I wipe down the granite. When I finish, Griffin is closing the dishwasher.

“That was quick,” I say, holding up my hand.

He slaps his palm against mine. “Teamwork, baby. What’s your plan for the rest of the night?”

“I have some homework to take care of.”

“What do you think about sleeping in my bed with me?”

“Can you control yourself if I do?” I tease. “You have work tomorrow and I have classes. We need to get plenty of sleep.”

“Tell me I can hold you, and that will be enough for me.”

“You can.” I tap my finger against my mouth. “But what about poor E.Z.?”

He scowls. “That little ingrate can sleep on your bed like he has been. Now, go get your work done so we can get to cuddling.”

I wiggle my fingers at him. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

I’ve started climbing the stairs when he calls out from the kitchen. “Just so you know, I sleep naked.” I trip, catching my toe on the lip of the next step, and barely avoid faceplanting. Once I’m in my room, I close the door and fall onto my bed. Was he kidding? I guess I’ll know soon enough.