Page 33

thirty-two

. . .

Griffin

The air is warm, the streets are quiet, and Avery Sinclair is trying way too hard to act normal.

It’s almost cute.

Almost.

I walk beside her, watching the way she’s pretending not to be thinking about me.

About the game.

About what I said.

I can see it—the way her fingers keep fidgeting, the way she’s biting her lip, the way she keeps her gaze locked ahead, like looking at me would be dangerous.

And maybe she’s right.

Because if she looks at me, she’ll know exactly what’s on my mind.

She’ll see that I meant it.

That this isn’t just a game to me.

That I want her.

And I’m pretty sure—no, I’m positive—she wants me too.

But she’s too stubborn to admit it.

So, I decide to push her.

Just a little.

I lean down, my voice low, brushing against her ear.

"So…are you thinking about it?"

I smirk, catching her elbow to steady her.

“Thinking about what?” I quip.

Her breath hitches. I feel it more than I hear it.

She forces a laugh, shaking her head, way too casual. “Uhhh…that game of never have I ever. I mean, I knew you were a virgin obviously, but the whole ‘never having been gone down on thing, I just…”

I can see the gears turning.

She’s stalling.

I can see it in the way her voice wavers, in the way she bites her lip, in the way she’s suddenly way too interested in the cobblestone street beneath her feet.

I press. Just a little.

“You just what?”

Her tongue darts out, swiping over her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I just… didn’t expect you to be so…”

She waves a hand vaguely.

I raise an eyebrow. “So what?”

She groans, throwing her head back. “Good at it, okay? Jesus, Knox. Now I feel like I’ve got to live up to that standard. You don’t have to look so smug.”

I can’t help it—a grin spreads across my face, slow and deliberate, as smug as she’s accusing me of being. “Oh, I absolutely do.”

She stops mid-step, throwing her hands up. “What will I do with you, Knox?”

I chuckle, stepping closer, letting my presence linger just enough to make her notice. “So tell me a fantasy of yours. Since apparently everyone has been adding to my list for me.”

Her eyes widen, her cheeks flushing a deep pink, and for a second, I think she’s going to deflect. But then, she tilts her head, a nervous, teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Okay. Fine. I’ll bite.”

I arch an eyebrow, intrigued. “Do tell.”

She hesitates, looking straight ahead as we start walking again. “I’ve always thought it’d be nice to wake up to a guy…you know.”

“Kissing you?”

She laughs. “A little more than than that.”

I blink, heat curling low in my stomach as my curiosity spikes. “No, I don’t know. Spell it out for me, Sinclair.”

Her gaze flicks to mine, sharp and flustered. “Going down on me, okay? Happy now?”

Fuck. That’s a mental image I’m going to keep for a long time.

My grin widens. “And here I thought you’d play coy. Please, go on.”

She groans, pressing her fingers to her temples. “That’s it. But it would only really work if I was in love. Otherwise, it’d just be awkward.”

I stop walking, staring at her, and she keeps moving, trying to shake off the weight of her confession like it’s nothing.

But it’s not nothing. Not to me.

“Awkward,” I echo, catching up to her in two long strides. “But if you were in love…?”

She huffs a laugh, her blush deepening. “If I were in love, it’d be… perfect. Like, you wake up, and there’s no pretense. No awkwardness. Just… feeling completely wanted. But I just wouldn’t want to give up that fantasy so easily. That’s all. I’m super weird. I know. Especially given our little agreement.”

My chest tightens as I watch her, the raw honesty of her words hitting me square in the gut. She glances at me then, her eyes narrowing like she knows I’m about to say something she won’t like.

“Why do I feel like I just handed you ammunition?” she mutters.

“Because you did,” I say, my voice dropping as I lean closer, my smirk widening. “And trust me, I’m going to make good use of it.”

She shakes her head, muttering under her breath, but I don’t miss the small, secret smile tugging at her lips as she turns away.

“And for the record,” I add, keeping my tone low and teasing, “I’d make it perfect for you, Sinclair.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not in love. So…we can do a lot of things. But that’s not on the list.”

“You’re still blushing, though.”

She lets out an exasperated laugh, throwing her hands up again. “I regret this already.”

But as we walk, I can’t help but notice the way her shoulders have relaxed, the way her lips curve just slightly, like she’s still thinking about it.

And so am I.

We reach the hotel, and she veers toward the elevator, but I catch her wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

She blinks. “Um. To bed?”

I tilt my head toward the pool deck, where the hot tub sits, empty and steaming under the moonlight.

“It’s closed.”

“Still works.” I smirk. “Come on.”

Her eyes narrow. “This is against the rules.”

“So?”

She sputters, searching for an excuse.

I tug her hand lightly, leading her down the side entrance toward the tub.

She doesn’t stop me.

Because she doesn’t want to stop me.

And we both know it.