Page 81 of On The Rocks

He rested his chin against my shoulder. “Your breasts are art.”

I giggled at how they floated in the water as the tiredness eased back a bit and left me in a hazy relaxation. “They were a lot of trouble when I was a kid. Stick-thin with a rack like this got me lots of unwanted attention.”

The memories of snide remarks about me and my mom wanted to come forward but then he cupped my breasts in his big hands and brought me back to the here and now.

The only place I longed to be.

“I’m sorry about that.” Lightly, he toyed with them under the water, but it was more soothing than anything else as he kissed my neck. “Kids are crap.”

Not only kids, but now wasn’t the time for that.

I turned and he kissed me. It was as soft as the water and just as soothing.

He washed me gently with a soft knit cloth and then we both stood and rinsed off with the showerhead. My hair was a lost cause, so quickly, I wrung it out and braided it into one long tail that I could pull over my shoulder.

He bundled me into a towel and steered me back into his bedroom. He grabbed the shirt off the bottom of the bed and dropped it over my head. He was still damp when he followed me into the bed, but I was too tired to care.

And also, I was much too tired to pretend I didn’t like him—or even more—wrapped around me.

Chapter 18

Griffin

I Regret My Choices

Morning came quickly, with an empty bed.

I flopped onto my belly, stretching out to find the sheets cool. She’d been up for awhile.

Wouldn’t shock me if she was actually gone at this point. I thought maybe last night we’d had found a way to make this work beyond just an occasional bounce, but maybe I’d been wrong.

The clang of a pot and a soft curse dented my pathetic moment.

I sat up and noticed her jeans still on the bench at the bottom of my bed. I slid out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweats from my wardrobe along with socks and a T-shirt. It was noticeably cooler this morning.

I was learning spring in the northeast meant winter in the morning and summer in the afternoon some days.

I left my room to find Lennon in my kitchen. She’d filched more of my clothes. This time, a hoodie that went to her knees. Those long legs of hers made my mouth water even more than the scent of fresh coffee.

She turned around, her hair in a high tail and no makeup, leaving her looking far too young for me. “Hey. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

I raked my hands through my hair. “I was more worried you left.”

She tucked her hands into the front pocket. “I wouldn’t.”

I just arched a brow at her as I crossed the living room to the stairs.

“Okay, so maybe I would have. Not now.”

That was a good step, but I decided to keep it to myself. Instead, I climbed the three stairs and wrapped my arms around her, lacing my fingers at the small of her back. “I like seeing you in my place.”

Flustered, she tried to wiggle free. “I only make one thing well. Don’t make me burn it.”

I let her go and peered over her shoulder at the stove. “Are you making frittatas?”

“Sure am.” She did a quick stir of the egg mixture with ham and tomatoes. Then she bumped me back and slid the cast iron pan into the oven.

“Very domestic. I like it.”

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