Page 35

thirty-four

. . .

Avery

The rest of the trip is exquisite.

I wake up the next morning tangled in sheets and Griffin Knox. His arm is draped over my waist, his breath warm against my neck, and my body aches in the best way possible—like a reminder of just how thoroughly he claimed me last night.

I don’t move. I don’t want to disturb the rare quiet between us, the softness in the way his fingers brush absently against my skin even in sleep.

And by exquisite, I mean—Griffin Knox is ruining me in the best way possible.

I didn’t think it was possible for one man to be this good. This relentless. This… obsessed.

Because it’s not just sex.

It’s everything.

It’s the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that exists.

It’s the way he touches me like he’s memorizing every inch of me.

It’s the way he makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world.

My heart tightens as I carefully slip out of his hold, tugging the sheet around me as I pad to the window. Outside, the sun is rising over the ocean, casting golden streaks across the waves.

And honestly?

I think I might be in trouble.

Because this—whatever this is—is starting to feel like more than just a fling.

But I don’t let myself think about that. Not now. Not when I have one more perfect week with him.

So we get reckless.

We have fun.

And God, do we have fun…

We sneak into the infinity pool after hours—Griffin lifting me onto the edge, pulling me into his lap, teasing me about getting caught, before kissing me senseless.

We rent a jet ski—Griffin driving like a maniac while I scream behind him, gripping his waist, laughing so hard my stomach hurts.

He takes me salsa dancing—his hands on my hips, his voice low in my ear, whispering all the things he’s going to do to me when we get back to the hotel.

We get drunk on a rooftop bar—Griffin running his hands up my thighs under the table, making it nearly impossible to focus on the conversation.

He eats mango straight off my fingers in bed—his eyes dark, his lips teasing, his tongue dragging over my fingertips just to drive me insane.

I ride him in the shower—water pouring over us, my back pressed against the tile, his hands gripping my hips, his mouth worshipping my skin.

We get room service and never leave the bed—me sprawled on his chest, tangled in sheets, his fingers trailing absentminded circles on my bare skin.

And every second, every touch, every moment—it feels like we’re on borrowed time.

Friends with Benefits.

Are you kidding me?

Like we both know this doesn’t last past Mexico.

Like we’re pretending that won’t hurt.

The day before we’re supposed to leave, we’re in bed—Griffin half-asleep, his arm draped over my waist, his lips pressed to my bare shoulder after an afternoon siesta.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand.

I grab it, still blurry with sleep, unlocking it without thinking.

And then—I see it.

CASSIE: Hey! So... SURPRISE! There was a last-second cheap flight and I booked it!! I thought I’d swing down for your last night in Mexico!! I’m just about to arrive. Sending this from the plane WiFi. I’ll take a taxi out to the hotel—LOVE YOU!! Hope Griffin isn’t being too annoying! Can we hit some rooftop bars tonight??

My stomach plummets.

My heart pounds.

I read it twice.

Three times.

Griffin shifts behind me, groggy.

"What is it?"

I turn slowly, my phone still in my hand.

His eyes sharpen when he sees my face.

I swallow.

"Cassie’s on a flight here. She lands soon."

He blinks. “She’s coming…tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Whoa.”

Then—his entire body stiffens.

The room goes silent.

I exhale. "So… is this it?"

Griffin just stares at me.

Because we both know. But in case we don’t, I say it out loud.

“We are not hooking up with Cassie around.”

It’s not even a question.

He rubs a hand down his face, his jaw tightening. "Right. I know.”

Silence.

A thick, loaded silence.

Then—he sits up suddenly, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright. We need to clean this place up."

I frown. "What?"

"This room smells like sex." He gives me a pointed look. "Like…a lot of sex."

I snort, but it’s short-lived, because—holy shit, he’s right.

It does.

Like wrecked furniture, tangled sheets, and bad decisions.

We spring into action.

We throw open the windows.

We gather every towel, every sheet, and throw them into a pile.

I spray my perfume everywhere like that’ll help.

When we realize there is no way we’re going to be able to have Cassie come in this room and not know what we’ve been up to, Griffin actually goes downstairs and requests a new room, using the excuse that "ours smells weird and we had plumbing issues."

The front desk is confused as hell, but they don’t ask too many questions.

Dr. Peterson frowns when she sees us moving our stuff.

"Why are you two changing rooms?" she asks, clearly suspicious.

Avery doesn’t miss a beat. "Plumbing."

Dr. Peterson squints. "What kind of plumbing issues?"

Griffin hesitates for half a second too long.

I cut in smoothly. "The toilet was making weird noises."

Dr. Peterson still looks skeptical, but she sighs. "I swear, this trip has been nothing but logistical nightmares."

She walks off, muttering about the hotel staff.

Griffin shoots me a look, barely holding back laughter. "Good cover, Sinclair."

I smirk, grabbing the last of our bags.

"Right back at you, Knox."

We finish moving everything, dragging our bags into the fresh, clean, untainted new room.

And just like that—we’ve erased every trace of what happened here.

Or at least, we’ve tried.

I know this is it.

The last time.

One more night, one more reckless decision, one more way to ensure I never stop thinking about him.

And yet—I’m still not ready to let him go.

After doing a final sweep of our “old” room, we head out to the balcony for a moment, and I stand at the edge of the railing, my palms resting against the cool railing, the city sprawling out below us, twinkling and vibrant.

The ocean hums in the distance, waves crashing in time with the pounding of my heart.

I feel him step up behind me.

Heat radiates off of him, his breath warm against my shoulder, his chest solid against my back.

I close my eyes.

This is dangerous.

This is going to ruin me.

But I don’t stop him.

His hands slide up my sides, slow, deliberate, like he’s memorizing the shape of me.

I shiver, my fingers tightening on the railing.

His lips brush my ear, his voice rough and low.

"One more time?”

A tremor runs through me, pooling low in my stomach, spreading heat through my veins.

I let out a breathless laugh.

“This is it. Make it count, Knox."

His groan is soft, deep, full of something I can’t name.

He drags his hands down my hips, his fingers curling around the hem of my dress.

Lifting.

Bunching.

Exposing.

The night air wraps around my bare skin, sending a shiver through me.

"Hands on the railing," he murmurs.

A command.

I swallow, my pulse pounding in my ears.

I obey.

His hand skims up my back, over my shoulder, down my spine.

"Good girl."

Oh, fuck.

My eyes flutter shut, my breath catching, my body reacting instantly.

I feel him press against me, his hands firm on my waist, his breath hot on my neck.

"You ready for me, Sinclair?"

I whimper, nodding, gripping the metal bar tighter.

And then—he thrusts inside me from behind.

Deep.

Hard.

Perfect.

“This ass is too perfect. I’m gonna miss it—miss you—so much…mmm.”

I let out a shattered moan, my knees nearly giving out as he fills me completely, stretching me, pushing so deep I swear I see stars.

His hands tighten on my hips, holding me steady, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

I feel his chest rise and fall behind me, his own breath ragged.

And then—he moves.

Slow at first, deliberate, making me feel every single inch of him.

I grip the railing tighter, my breath coming faster, my pulse hammering through me.

He leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“What about you. Gonna miss this, Sinclair?"

I let out a soft, strangled sound, barely able to think.

He drags his hand up my back, gripping my hair lightly, tilting my head back.

"Say it."

"Griffin—"

"Say you’re gonna miss this."

I can barely breathe, barely function, barely exist outside of this moment.

And when he slams into me harder, angling just right, hitting that spot that has me unraveling instantly?—

I break.

“I’m gonna miss it.” I whisper his name, my body clenching tight, pleasure wrecking through me like a storm.

And Griffin?

He doesn’t last much longer.

He grips my hips, curses under his breath, and buries himself deep, following me over the edge.

We stay there, breathing hard, trembling, bodies tangled, hands gripping, hearts racing.

And for a moment—I let myself pretend this isn’t the last time.

I let myself believe this doesn’t end tomorrow.

That I won’t have to say goodbye.

That I won’t have to pretend this was just casual.

That I won’t have to pretend this didn’t change everything.

My hands loosen on the railing, my breathing still uneven, my body still tingling.

Griffin trails lazy, open-mouthed kisses down my back, his hands sliding up my sides like he’s reluctant to let go.

Like he’s memorizing me.

Like he knows this is it.

I push off the railing, adjusting my dress, running a shaky hand through my hair.

I turn, meeting his gaze.

His eyes are unreadable.

His jaw tense.

His chest still rising and falling too fast.

We just stare at each other.

A long, heavy, loaded silence.

I swallow hard.

And then—I force a smirk.

"Well. That was an appropriate send-off."

He lets out a rough, breathless chuckle, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Yeah. One hell of a farewell."

I nod, letting out a loud breath. “You’ve been a great friend with benefits, Griffin. I officially have forgotten my ex’s name.”

“Gavin?”

“Who?” I try to joke.

But something in my chest aches.

I don’t know what I was expecting.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, his hand threading tenderly through my hair. “You good?”

I force a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Really good.”

Lies.

Because in reality, my thoughts are spinning out of control.

Kids.

I’m thinking about kids.

I’ve never given it serious thought before—never allowed myself to. And yet, here I am, lying in this tangle of emotions, my heart clenching over something I don’t even fully understand.

It makes no sense.

I don’t know why this hurts like it does.

But it does.

And I can’t let him see it.

I turn away, staring at the ceiling, trying to push it all down. We both knew the deal when this started. Friends with benefits. Nothing else.

But knowing doesn’t stop the ache.

By the time Cassie’s taxi pulls up, we’ve erased every trace of what’s been happening here. Beds made. Towels hung. Every ounce of intimacy swept under the rug like it never existed.

The new room feels all wrong.

It’s on the other side of the building. No balcony. No memories tied to its corners.

And yet—the weight of what’s happened lingers between us, heavy and unspoken.

Because we both know.

This is over.

At least… it’s supposed to be.