Page 34

thirty-three

. . .

Griffin

The water is warm, the air cool, and Avery’s hair is piled up in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She looks so effortlessly beautiful it’s almost unfair.

She sinks into the bubbles, her shoulders relaxing as she exhales like she’s been holding tension there for days.

I’m in my boxers, and she’s in her bra and panties. We’re getting really good at this whole “hot tub when we’ve forgotten our swimsuits” thing. Probably too good.

My eyes linger on her, the way the soft glow of the outdoor lights catches the curve of her neck, the way her skin looks warm and flushed from the heat.

She tilts her head, catching me mid-stare. “What?”

I shrug, my lips twitching into a small smirk. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” she fires back, her tone playful but her eyes watching me carefully, like she’s daring me to say more.

“I know. But you’ve got me doing it a lot tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, but I see the way her lips twitch.

“So,” she says, resting her arms against the edge. “You’re really not reckless?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do I seem reckless to you?”

She pauses, considering.

“I don’t know,” she says finally. “I just…you have this reputation back in college. Big personality, all that.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, well. People see what they want to see.”

She lifts a brow. “And what am I supposed to see, Knox?”

I grin, leaning forward just a little. “Whatever you want.”

“What if I want to see the real you, with no walls up? Just Griffin Knox.”

“So you want to see my naked?”

Her throat bobs as she swallows. “It always comes back to that. No, I don’t mean physically naked. You know what? Forget it.”

A beat.

A pause too long.

Then—her foot brushes against mine underwater.

Light.

Unintentional? Probably not, but who knows for sure.

Her eyes flick to mine, just for a second, then away.

“So…no crazy hot tub hookups for you before?” she teases, taking a sip of her drink. “Be honest.”

I smirk. “Nope.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “Not even one? All those parties?”

“Not my style.”

She hums, dragging her finger through the water.

Then, she glances up, eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place.

“That’s a shame.”

Oh, she’s playing with fire.

And she knows it.

I lean in slightly, voice low. “You wanna fix that for me, Sinclair?”

Her breath catches.

And right then—I know I’ve got her.

Avery tilts her head, her fingers skimming absently through the bubbling water, but I can see the way her pulse ticks faster at her throat.

Her foot brushes against mine again. This time, definitely not unintentional.

I smirk, letting the silence stretch, waiting for her to back down.

She doesn’t.

Instead—she moves closer.

Just a little.

Just enough that I feel the shift in the water, that I hear the faint inhale she takes, like she’s talking herself into something.

And then she leans in, her lips just a breath from my ear.

"Maybe I do."

Oh, fuck.

The words are soft, teasing, but they land like a wrecking ball.

I turn my head, just enough to see her eyes flick to mine—calculated, playful, challenging.

She’s pushing me.

Testing me.

And I’m about one second away from failing.

I drag my tongue along my bottom lip, my voice rougher than I mean for it to be.

"Careful, Sinclair."

She smirks, tilting her head.

"Why?"

I exhale sharply, running a hand over my jaw.

"Because if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna stop playing nice."

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips.

"Maybe I don’t want nice."

I lose every ounce of restraint I had left.

I surge forward, closing the space between us, crashing my mouth to hers.

And fuck.

The second our lips connect, the tension that’s been brewing, simmering, boiling over all damn night?

It detonates.

She lets out a soft noise against my mouth, her fingers gripping my shoulders, pulling me closer, like this was always inevitable.

And maybe it was.

Maybe I never stood a fucking chance with her.

Because the second I get a taste—I’m gone.

I kiss her hard, deep, like I have something to prove, like I need to make her feel exactly how much she’s been driving me crazy.

She gasps when I haul her into my lap, straddling me, her bare thighs framing my hips.

The water sloshes over the edge from the ripples we’re making, heat rolling through me as she grinds down just enough to make me curse.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging, and I groan into her mouth, gripping her hips, pressing her down harder.

Her breath is ragged, her lips kiss-swollen, and when I drag my mouth down her throat, nipping at the soft skin, she lets out the softest, sexiest little whimper.

I pull back, breathing hard, my hands still wrapped around her waist.

I feel the way she’s shaking.

I feel how bad she wants this.

But I need to hear her say it.

I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in.

"Tell me how reckless you wanna be, Sinclair."

Her nails dig into my shoulders, her chest rising and falling, her eyes locked on mine.

And then—her hands slide down.

Under the water.

They slide off my boxers with a practiced ease, and she places them on the edge of the jacuzzi.

Then, with her eyes locked on me, she unhooks her bra and lets her gorgeous breasts hang free, two utterly beautiful teardrops.

I don’t say a word as my eyes drink her in.

And when she slides back in, closer to me and grips me—really grips me—everything fucking stops.

My breath punches out of my chest, my head dropping forward, a low, guttural noise escaping me.

“How’s this for reckless?” she whispers, her lips brushing mine.

"Very, very reckless."

I swear under my breath, my hands tightening on her waist, and then—she moves.

Her fingers stroke me slow, teasing, knowing exactly what she’s doing.

I choke out a curse, gripping the edge of the hot tub like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

Her other hand trails down my chest, her nails scraping lightly.

I let out a shaky breath.

"Fuck, Avery."

She just smirks, her eyes dark, dangerous, proud.

And then—she disappears under the water.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

My hand flies out, gripping the edge of the hot tub, my head falling back against the side like I’ve just been knocked the fuck out.

Because I never stood a goddamn chance.

The second her mouth touches me, my entire body goes rigid, my breath catching so hard in my throat I nearly choke.

I curse sharply, my fingers digging into the slick tile, my muscles locking up like I’m holding on for dear life.

Because this is happening.

She’s happening.

And she is so good.

Better than I even thought.

And yeah, I thought about it.

A lot.

Too much.

But nothing prepared me for this.

She comes back up for air, breathing heavily. “That was reckless as all hell. Now…” I say. “Here.”

I move so I’m sitting on the edge of the hot tub. She grins and looks up at me. “What? Don’t think I could hold my breath? You’re not the only one of us who’s competitive.”

I bite my lower lip. “If you drowned I’d never forgive myself.”

“Avery Sinclair, RIP,” she smiles while she runs a hand up the ridges of my water-wet abs, and then brings it back to my cock. “Cause of death? She got stuck underwater...”

I let out a loud, billowing laugh, not even caring if we get heard, or caught.

I’m too in the moment.

And then, she’s back on me.

The heat of her mouth, the way she moves, the way she fucking owns me with nothing but her lips and tongue.

And I’m gone.

Completely, utterly, wrecked.

I let out a strangled sound, my chest rising and falling too fast, my head spinning, my brain officially offline.

I can barely form a thought, can barely hold on to reality, can barely fucking breathe?—

Then I feel her hum against me.

My hips jerk involuntarily.

“Jesus Christ.” My voice is raw, shredded, barely recognizable. “Avery if you don’t slow down this is gonna be quick.”

She’s not holding back.

She’s ruining me.

And she fucking knows it.

For just a moment, she pulls away.

One of my hands slides onto her head, threading through her hair, my fingers tangling, my grip tightening just slightly.

Not pushing.

Not forcing.

Just holding.

Just needing something to ground myself.

She slides her hands up my thighs, her nails digging in just enough to make me groan.

And I swear to God—I’m seconds away from losing it.

I need to stop her.

I need to pull her up, kiss her, touch her, do literally anything other than sit here and completely fall apart like this.

But I can’t.

Because she’s too good.

Too damn perfect.

And I’m too far gone.

I try to hold on, to slow down, to make this last, but then she hums again, taking me deeper, and I lose every single bit of control I have left. It’s her sweet floral scent, her thick hair, the way she isn’t intimidated at all.

My fingers tighten in her hair, my body going rigid, my jaw clenching.

"Fuck, Sinclair. I?—"

And then I come apart.

Completely, shamelessly, loudly.

My vision goes white, my entire body tensing, and I swear to God—I might actually black out.

The pleasure is so sharp, so intense, it nearly fucking breaks me.

And I don’t even care.

The water sloshes gently as she surfaces, pushing her wet hair back, her lips slick, her eyes unreadable.

She looks at me.

I look at her.

Neither of us speaks. Neither of us moves. Because she knows.

She fucking knows.

She just ruined me.

And I can’t even pretend otherwise.

My chest is still rising and falling too fast, my brain still scrambled, my body still wrecked.

And she just sits there, watching me, waiting.

For what?

For me to say something?

For me to recover?

For me to admit that she just single-handedly shattered every last ounce of my self-control?

Not happening.

Not tonight.

So I do the only thing I can think to do.

I grab her.

I haul her into my lap, my mouth crashing onto hers, tasting myself on her tongue, feeling her soft, satisfied sigh against my lips.

I kiss her deep, slow, full of everything I can’t put into words.

And she lets me.

She melts against me, her fingers threading through my hair, her body molding to mine, her breath warm, her skin hot, her lips intoxicating.

And I don’t stop.

I kiss her until she’s breathless.

Until she’s shaking.

Until she knows—she’s not getting away with this.

Not without me returning the favor.

Not without me ruining her right back.

And when I pull back, my forehead resting against hers, my voice low and rough as hell.

She knows what’s coming.

"Your turn, Sinclair."

She barely has a second to react.

One moment, she’s sitting back, smug as hell, looking way too satisfied with herself.

The next—she’s in my lap, my hands gripping her waist, my mouth crashing onto hers.

And I don’t just kiss her.

I devour her.

I kiss her slow and deep, pressing her back against the edge of the tub, trapping her between my body and the hot, bubbling water.

She lets out a sharp inhale, her fingers tightening in my hair, but she doesn’t pull away.

She leans into it.

And fuck, that’s my undoing.

Because now?

Now I’m done playing nice.

I drag my mouth from hers, down her jaw, down her neck, biting lightly, making her shiver.

And when I feel the way she arches against me, when I hear the softest, neediest little sound escape her throat?—

I grin against her skin.

"What’s the matter?" I murmur, my lips brushing her collarbone. "Not so cocky anymore?"

She sucks in a sharp breath. “Shut up Knox,” she breathes softly.

I chuckle, my hands sliding under the water, gripping her thighs, pulling her in closer.

"Oh, I don’t think you want me to shut up, Sinclair."

Her breath hitches.

I drop my voice even lower, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear.

"I think you want me to ruin you."

And before she can argue, or escape, or even process what’s happening?—

I slide one hand between her legs.

She gasps, her entire body jolting, her nails digging into my shoulders.

Her head falls back against the edge of the tub, her lips parting, her breath coming out shaky.

I watch her.

I watch the way she reacts to me, to my hands, to my mouth, to the way I’m touching her?—

And it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

"Griffin," she breathes, her voice soft, pleading.

And fuck, I love the way she says my name like that.

"That’s right," I murmur, my fingers sliding against her, teasing. "Say it again."

She whimpers, her thighs tensing around me, her hips moving against my hand, chasing it.

And I give her what she wants.

I push deeper, curling my fingers just right, dragging my lips down her throat, groaning at the way she clenches around me.

She’s falling apart.

And I’m the one pulling her apart.

And she knows it.

She knows she’s just lost every bit of control she thought she had.

Because now?

Now she belongs to me.

She’s shaking, her body tensing, on the edge, seconds away?—

And then?—

She’s falling apart in my hands.

And I love it.

Avery sinks against the edge of the hot tub, her lips parting, her breath coming out in soft, shaky gasps.

She grips my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin, but I don’t stop.

I push deeper, stroke slower, watching every tiny reaction, every tremor that moves through her.

I move faster, pressing my thumb against her just right, curling my fingers, pushing her right to the edge.

Her hips shift, her body arching, chasing the feeling.

And I can see it in her face—the moment she realizes she’s lost.

“Oh my God?—"

Her body locks up, her breath shattering, her fingers digging into my skin as she breaks, trembling, gasping, unraveling completely.

I watch her ride it out, drinking in every second, every sound, every little aftershock.

And holy shit.

Watching her come apart in my arms?

Easily the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

I give her a second, pressing slow kisses along her jaw, up to her temple, letting her come down.

Her breath is still uneven, her chest rising and falling too fast.

Then—her fingers tighten in my hair.

I barely have time to react before she grabs my face, pulls my mouth to hers, and kisses me like she’s starving.

And fuck, that’s my undoing.

She’s soft and demanding, her lips hungry, desperate, reckless.

And I give her everything she wants.

I tilt her back, pinning her against the edge of the tub, claiming her mouth completely.

I kiss her deep and slow, dragging my tongue over hers, swallowing the last of her soft, shaky sighs.

She shivers, her hands sliding down my chest, nails scraping lightly.

And when she grinds against me, rubbing against my already-hard-again cock—I groan, gripping her hips, pressing her down.

She pulls back just enough to murmur, "I think you’ve got a problem, Knox."

I smirk against her lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she whispers, her eyes hooded. "You might actually need to get this checked out. No way you’re hard again.”

I chuckle, dragging my lips along her jaw. "Only when it comes to you, Sinclair."

I stare into her eyes and just like that, I know we’re not done.

I drag my teeth lightly over her skin, feeling the way she shivers against me.

Her breath shudders out.

And then—she crashes into me.

Her mouth fierce, her fingers tangling in my hair, her body pressing against mine like she already knows she’s not making it out of this hot tub untouched.

And she’s right.

Because she started this.

And now?

Now I’m finishing it.

I grab her by the waist, lifting her just slightly, making her gasp as the water shifts around us.

Her thighs tighten around my hips, her nails dragging down my back, her breath hot and unsteady against my mouth.

I smirk, my voice low, rough, pure command.

"Put your arms around my shoulders."

She obeys instantly, her body melting against mine, her chest pressed against me, her lips parting on a gasp as I slide my hands beneath the water, gripping her thighs.

I can feel it—her need, her want, the way her body responds to mine like it was meant to.

She rocks against me, teasing, testing.

I tighten my grip, forcing her still.

"Don’t start something you can’t handle, Sinclair."

She exhales a shaky breath, her forehead tipping against mine.

"Who says I can’t handle it?"

Fuck.

That does something to me.

Something primal.

Something reckless.

I lift her, lining us up, my hands tight on her hips.

Her breath hitches.

She’s so close, so ready, just one move away from ruining me completely.

I look her dead in the eyes, my voice a dark whisper against her lips.

"Take me."

She shudders.

And then—she sinks down on my engorged cock.

I curse sharply, my head falling back, my hands tightening on her waist as she takes me in, inch by inch, hot and slick and fucking perfect.

She whimpers, gripping my shoulders, her body trembling.

And when she finally takes all of me—when she settles in my lap, her thighs bracketing my hips, her nails digging into my skin?—

I let out a rough, broken groan.

"Jesus, Avery?—"

She gasps my name, her head tipping back, her lips parting, her breath coming fast and uneven.

And fuck, she’s tight.

So damn tight and warm and wet and perfect, and I swear to God, I could lose it right here.

I grip her hips, trying to hold still, trying to let her adjust, but she shifts—just slightly?—

And I nearly lose my fucking mind.

"Goddamn it, Sinclair." My voice is strained, tight, barely holding on.

She smirks down at me, teasing, dangerous.

"Told you I could handle it. I’m getting used to you.”

I snap.

I thrust up, hard, deep, making her cry out.

I wrap my arm around her back, holding her against me, my mouth dragging along her neck, my teeth scraping her skin.

"We’ll see about that."

She clenches around me, her nails raking down my back, and I don’t hold back anymore.

I grip her hips and start moving, setting a brutal rhythm, relentless and deep.

She’s breathless, gasping, shaking.

“Oh fuck, Griff. Deeper. Like that. Oh my God…”

I watch her fall apart in my arms, watch her bite her lip, watch her try to keep it together.

But she can’t.

She won’t.

Because I won’t let her.

"Come for me, Sinclair."

Her body shudders, her breath catches, and then she does.

Hard.

Sharp.

Loud enough that someone inside the hotel is definitely going to complain.

And I don’t even care.

Because I’m right behind her.

I let go, burying myself deep, crushing my mouth against hers, swallowing every sound she makes.

And fuck, I’ve never come harder in my life.