Page 37 of One Hot Summer
I nodded, but instead of leading him to the futon, I collapsed onto it, pulling him with me so that we were both hunched awkwardly on the same cushion, shoulders and thighs pressed tight together. I didn’t let go of his hand, and he didn’t seem to mind.
For a while, neither of us spoke. Griffin looked down at our tangled fingers, running his thumb over the inside of my wrist. His hands were big, strong, and so careful, as if I might break if he squeezed too hard.
I cleared my throat. “Will you tell me what happened with Dalton? Is he truly okay with all of this?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It was awkward as hell, but I knew I had to do it. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, but I couldn’t askyou to pick me over him. That’s not fair, not after everything.” He smiled, small and pained. “So, I told him the truth. That you mean more to me than anyone I’ve met in a long time. That I want to see where this goes, even if it’s complicated.”
I swallowed hard, trying not to let it show how much those words meant to me. “What did he say?”
“He said I was an idiot, which—fair.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “But he also said that if this is real, if I’m serious about you, then I should stop being a coward and go after what I want.”
“And you’re sure what you want is me?” I asked, still half-convinced I was dreaming.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slid his hand up the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I am sure,” he murmured. “I’m in love with you, Adam. I tried to talk myself out of it, tried to pretend it was just the adrenaline, or the vacation, or the sex. But it’s not. It’s you. And I know you’ve been hurt. You’ve had a lifetime of pain and people not seeing how special you truly are. But I promise, if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love you.”
My eyes stung so bad I had to blink hard just to see him. I searched his face for any trace of doubt, but he was dead serious. Raw and open and just as terrified as I was.
“I love you too,” I whispered, and the truth of it settled into every part of me like sunlight.
He laughed, a sound of pure relief. “Thank God,” he said, then kissed me again, harder this time. His mouth was soft but insistent, coaxing and teasing until my brain went fuzzy.
Eventually, we broke apart, gasping for air, foreheads pressed together. “You should stay,” I said, then immediately blushed at how desperate it sounded.
He smiled, eyes bright. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
We laughed, the tension finally broken, and when I pulled him in for another kiss, he let me set the pace. His hands roamed over my back, my sides, never pushing too far, always giving me the choice. It made me want to give him everything. After a while, I stood up, tugging him with me. “Let’s go to my room,” I said, voice shaky but certain.
He followed, and I felt the power of that—how much he trusted me, how much I trusted him. The walk from the living room to my bedroom couldn’t have been more than twelve steps, but my heart was hammering like I’d run a marathon. Griffin’s hand was locked around mine, big and warm, his thumb stroking the back of my knuckles in a steady rhythm that made my whole body hum. He followed close, suit jacket brushing my arm, his gaze never leaving my face as I reached for the doorknob and shoved it open.
My room was nothing special—a twin bed with a faded navy comforter, a small desk in the corner, and a nightstand with a lamp that barely illuminated anything after midnight. A single window looked out over the street below, the thick scent of hot concrete and burnt sugar from the bakery downstairs wafting in even with it closed. It should have felt small, even pathetic, compared to the cozy luxury of his mountain cabin. But the second he stepped inside, it felt like everything expanded, every color went sharp and bright.
He let go of my hand only long enough to shut the door, then caught me by the waist and pushed me gently against it. The solid press of his body made me gasp, nerves lighting up and crackling, every part of me screaming for more. His mouth was on mine before I could even breathe—hungry, desperate, but somehow still careful, like he wanted to savor every second of our reunion.
We kissed hard and messy, my back thudding against the door with every pull and push. His hands wandered down mysides, thumbs digging into my hips like he was staking a claim, but his grip never hurt. I clawed at his suit jacket, trying to get closer, my fingers trembling so badly.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes wild. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, forehead pressed to mine. “If you want me to, just say the word.”
I shook my head, dizzy. “I don’t want you to stop. Not ever.”
His lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Good.”
He took a step back, hands dropping to my shoulders as he slid my T-shirt over my head in one motion. The sudden air on my skin made every hair stand up. His eyes raked over my chest, the ravenous gleam in his eyes telling me how much he wanted this. Us. Me.
I let my head fall back, feeling the press of his lips, the scrape of stubble. My cock was already throbbing, straining in my shorts, and from the bulge in Griffin’s slacks, he wasn’t any better off. He caught my wrists and held them, his touch firm but gentle. He brought my hands up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle, slow and deliberate.
“You okay?” he asked again, voice barely a whisper.
I nodded. “I—I want you so badly, I can’t think straight.”
He grinned, cocky and sweet. “Let me help with that.”
He shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor, then loosened his tie and slipped it off completely. He draped it around my neck and used it to pull me in for another kiss. I moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
He started unbuttoning his shirt, slow and careful, teasing me. Each new inch of skin revealed, made my mouth go dry: the lean lines of his torso, the soft dark hair dusting his chest, the muscles tensing under his tan. He let the shirt hang open, hands sliding down to my waistband, and popped the button on my shorts.
I helped, shoving them down my thighs with an urgency that bordered on pathetic. I kicked them off, my boxers following, and Griffin’s eyes went dark as he looked me over. “So fucking gorgeous,” he said, voice rough.
“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered, but I was already blushing from head to toe.
