Page 77 of Griffin

“No. There’s nothing to talk about.”

Lies. Lies. Lies.

“She’s gorgeous,” Christina says sadly, staring down at her hands. “I would never have guessed you and her —”

If Kevin or anyone else heard Christina talking like this, shit, there would be anarchy.

“Nothing is going on; I just care about her,” I lie easily, shrugging my shoulders.

Making my way over to the sofa, I slump down beside her.

“Really?” Christina asks, tilting her head.

She doesn’t believe you.

“Really.”

A pause, and then Christina says, “So why aren’t you interested in me, Griffin? Don’t you have needs? Don’t you want to settle down?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I mentally throw answers at her.

Because you’re not Ivy.

Yes, but Ivy sees to my needs.

Yes, with Ivy.

Christina places her glass carefully on the table before shuffling next to me. She takes my wine glass from my hand and then twists my chin so I’m staring into her eyes.

You’re not Ivy.

“Try. With me. Try.” Christina licks her lips, her eyes falling to my chest as she reaches out. Her touch is different from Ivy’s, but she knows what she’s doing.

“I can’t,” I whisper as Christina looks up at me.

“She isn’t thinking about you tonight, Griff. Forget everyone else.”

Ivy’s with Finlay.

According to Christina.

“This isn’t about Ivy,” I groan as she brushes her lips against mine. “I don’t want to fuck with your head, Christina.”

I feel bad when her hand rubs my crotch, my treacherous dick responding instantly.

“Just kiss me,” Christina whispers, her tongue dancing into my mouth as her words die.

Is this what Ivy is doing?

Kissing that fucking prick?

I move Christina away, ignoring the hurt in her eyes.

“I said I can’t.”

“Okay,” Christina frowns, backing away from me. “But I’m not stupid, Griffin. It’s because of Ivy, and you know as well as I do that shit won’t go down with Kevin. Play with women your age, baby.”

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