Page 55 of Tangled Kisses
Hell, after quality time with Griffin, I feel almost human.
He pauses, the early morning sun highlighting his baby blues. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You see me. You accept me. And that’s enough for you.”
It’smorethan enough for me—but for a man like Griffin, it’s probably the rarest gift he’s ever been given.
No expectations, no performance. Just him. Just us.
Just… damn it, Reese, stop thinking about the kiss.
As if that’s a possibility.
We didn’t fool around last night. Then again, we couldn’t. But he didn’t try to kiss me, and my lips were ready and waiting. Maybe he’s decided that kiss at the bar was a step too far. Maybe friendship feels like the safe route for him.
And I need to be okay with that fact. Relegate that bowl-me-over kiss to a precious pedestal in my memory and focus on being buddies.
Buddies that boost each other up, obviously. Griffin, despite being drooled over on the regular, isn’t used to being appreciated. Time to ensure he knows I do.
I push up on my knees, cupping his stubbled cheeks. “You’re amazing. Never let anyone tell you differently. Now, I’m going to shower and brush my teeth because leftover chocolate breath is so not sexy.”
Griffin drops a kiss onto my hair. “You’re sexy all the time.”
“Obviously. Look at me.” I shake my ass as I stand, twirling in my wrinkled sweats. “I’m a prize.”
His gaze drags down my body, his hands flexing restlessly against his thighs. “Do that again,” he murmurs, “and I’ll show you what a prize you really are.”
I’m joking. He’s joking.I think.
But the look on his face isn’t one of humor, but hunger, as if daring me to give him the green light.
And if it weren’t that time of the month, I’d give him the all-clear.
Figure out the details later.
Mother Nature can be such a bitch.
His phone buzzes, breaking the spell. Griffin sighs, raking a hand down his face like he’d rather ignore it.
Back to reality.
That heavy sigh means one thing—a client. A woman who’s going to pay him for his time and then pay more for his body.
The same body that curled against me all night.
God, I hate reality.
“Be safe today.” I groan inwardly.
Be safe? Seriously, Reese?
“Always am.”
Oh, that’s a delightful visual. My brain instantly supplies a slideshow of leather straps and vibrating toys—images I shove into a mental closet and slam the door on.
“Thanks again for taking care of me.”
