Page 163 of Fighting the Forbidden

He shrugs and looks away. “He had enough going on. I’m sure he heard kids say it, but I just pretended I didn’t know what they were yapping about.”

“He would’ve killed them for making you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, and he didn’t need to be in trouble.” He glances at the back door. “Let me grab your stuff.”

I’m keenly aware of him behind me as we walk up the porch steps and I slide my key into the front door’s lock and open it.

“Where do you want this?” He lifts the vase snuggled in one arm.

“I’ll put them in the kitchen for now.” I take the arrangement from him and move into the dining room.

“Backpack and dress?” he calls out.

“By the stairs.”

I set the roses on the counter. I should probably give them fresh water before bringing them upstairs to my room.

“Hey.” Griff comes up behind me and rests his hands on my hips. “Can we talk for a sec?”

The grave undercurrent in his tone stops me from fussing with the roses. “Yeah, of course.” My stomach rumbles. “Can we talk while we eat?”

“Sure.” He rubs his hand over his chin.

It’s almost noon, and I don’t feel like cooking. In the fridge, I find the leftover cold cuts from yesterday’s platter. I slap a few pieces of ham and cheese between two slices of bread and slide it in the toaster oven.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Griff.

He slides his gaze over my body. “I could eat.”

I turn toward the tray.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” he says quickly.

When we’re seated at the table, I bite into my ham and cheese melt. Oh, that’s so good.

Griff picks at the crust of his bread. “How do you feel today?”

“Me?” I chew faster, swallow, then take a sip of orange juice. “My head hurts a little, and I’m starving, but otherwise, great.”

“Good.”

I set my sandwich down and stare at him. “Why do you keep asking me that?”

He lifts his shoulders and won’t quite meet my eyes. “I worry about you.”

I flip through the events of last night and this morning, finally landing on the girls poking fun at me. How do I even word the question hovering in the front of my brain?

“Griff?” I can’t do this over ham and cheese melts. Pushing my chair away from the table, I stand and step closer to him.

He leans back and tilts his head toward me. “What?”

I slide myself between his knee and the table, perching on his leg. His mouth tips into a smile and he curls his arm around my back, fully pulling me into his lap. “What’s up, Muffin?”

“The girls said there was…” Why is this so awkward after we shared such embarrassing stories in the car? “Blood on the sheets. Did I…? Is that why you keep asking if I’m okay?”

He blows out a quick breath. “Yeah. I wanted to make sure I didn’t hurt you. But I didn’t want to freak you out either.” One corner of his mouth tilts into a sexy smirk and he holds two fingers in the air, moving them in a crude gesture. “I didn’t think I went at you that hard, but…”

Heat explodes over my cheeks. “You didn’t hurt me,” I whisper. “You need to be sure I can handle all of you, right?”

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