Page 18 of Fighting the Forbidden

“No, it’s not that.”

His gaze continues searching my face, like he’s trying to unlock my mind.

I swallow hard and slick my tongue over my dry lips. “Last night. I?—”

“Griff, what the fuck, bro? You coming in or not?” Remy calls from the kitchen. At least I hope he’s still in the kitchen. I don’t think he’ll appreciate Griff and I standing so close.

Touching each other.

I back away first, clutching the paper bag tight in my hands. Griff’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. He looks so bewildered, I almost reach for him again.

“There you are,” Remy says from behind me. “What are you two doing?”

Griff’s mouth opens, but I spin around and flash a big smile at my brother. “Nothing. Griff brought muffins.”

“No shit. He brings them every week.” He narrows his eyes, staring at both of us.

Anxiety flutters in my chest. I can’t stand Remy being suspicious of his best friend because of me. “Well, he brought enough for me to share today.”

Remy focuses on Griff again. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Griff finally says to my brother. About time he said something.

“Waitin’ on your ass.” Remy waves him outside. “Come on. We gotta leave for that party in a couple hours.”

I trot into the kitchen where I drop the bag on the counter and set out three napkins. Remy made coffee earlier, so I pour some into a travel mug and add extra cream.

A few minutes later, Griff’s heat whispers over my back and his arms snake around my middle, giving me a brief hug. “You all right?” he murmurs against my ear.

Tremors wrack my body. Why is Griff so determined to flirt with danger this morning? My brother could walk into the kitchen any second now and catch us in this intimate moment. He’d lose it for sure.

But my body doesn’t care about any of that. It wants to take Griff to a secluded location and do more of what we did last night. Preferably skin on skin.

Unless he thinks I’m a weirdo? Or too inexperienced. Why’d I have to admit I’d never done that before?

“Let’s go!” Remy shouts from the front porch.

“Be right there!” Griff yells.

His hands grip my hips, and he turns me to face him. Only, I can’t meet his eyes.

“Molly, look at me. What’s wrong?” The distress in Griff’s low voice undoes me and I lift my gaze.

Heat spreads over my cheeks and I can’t answer his question. Instead I lift one shoulder. “Nothing.”

I’m staring somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. He settles two fingers under my chin and tips my head back.

“Are you upset about last night?” he asks, quiet enough not to carry beyond the kitchen.

“No. Not really. It’s not that.” I force more conviction into my tone.

His forehead wrinkles in frustration. “What does that mean?” He cocks his head, listening for any sign that my brother might overhear us. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t.” I wave my hand toward the front of the house. “Remy’s right outside.” I let out a long sigh. “It’s nothing. I feel weird, that’s all.”

Griff doesn’t laugh or tease me. “Molly, you have nothing to feel weird about. Last night was beautiful. Awesome. Amazing.”

How does he just know what I was trying to say?

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