Page 52 of Griffin

Her words cut me, but they’re true.

“I respect you so much.” I look up at her as she backs away. “I care about you.”

“Ugh, Griffin!” Ivy throws her hands in the air, twisting, so she’s facing away from me. “You can’t control yourself around me, so I can’t stay, but only because you don’t want to make things awkward. I’m an adult, Griffin. I can decide what I want.”

I stare at her, my chest tightening.

She’s right.

“I don’t want to hold you back.” I turn her toward me, stroking her face, but she moves back, holding her hands up.

“You’re right though,” she says sadly, looking up at me. “I care more about Melody than your dick, so let’s forget this happened, okay?”

“Ivy.” I sigh, watching as she pulls her sneakers on. “Don’t go, not like this.”

Ivy turns at the door, her eyes shining with tears.

“You helped me like you offered to. So let’s leave it there. Goodnight, Griffin.”

I want to go after her, beg her to stay, hold her in my arms and kiss her anger away.

But I can’t.

I’ve already gone too far with the make-out session we just had.

I’ll get territorial, and possessive … I’ll want her for myself, and it’s not fair to her.

Melody just lost her mother. I don’t want her to lose Ivy too, and she will if I push Ivy away with my need toownher.

Kevin doesn’t come into it. If I was in love with Ivy, nothing would stop me.

But Ivy wants us to fuck, and I know I’ll need more than that.

Her perfume lingers in the air, and I swallow my disappointment.

Why am I so controlling?

I have to have her, all of her, not just the casual fucks she hands out like they mean nothing.

It angers me that she’s like that, treating herself so carelessly. I don’t want to fuck Ivy — I want to devour her. For hours. Days. Probably for the rest of my life.

I shake my head, clearing the beer bottles away and locking the house up.

I won’t risk ruining anything else.

If I haven’t already.

17

IVY

The next morning I wake early, staring out the kitchen window as I sip my coffee. Dad’s left for work already, but I’m glad.

The way I feel, I’d probably tell him I want his best friend to fuck me, just to cut out any confusion.

I bristle, remembering Griffin’s words.

Why won’t he just fuck me?

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