Page 48 of Cherry Picking
“They have an interesting friendship. That’s for sure.” I reach for my crutches and push out of my chair. “I’m thinking I should get back, too. The drinks are settling in, and I’m gonna be ready to pass out soon.”
“Sleepy drunk is better than a horny drunk,” Hawks says with a shrug. “Need me to hail you a ride?”
“Already ordered,” Griffin pipes in. “You want to ride with us?”
I like that our captain doesn’t even blink at the insinuation we’d be leaving together.
“Nah. I’ll clean up and settle the tab. You guys go.”
As soon as we hit the cool night air, Griff puts a hand on my chest and eases me back against the brick wall of the building. His hand travels up to the splotch below my throat, and he rests his fingers over it.
“I think it’s only fair that I get to give you one, too,” he says, leaning in so his mouth brushes the bristles of hair covering my chin. “Since we’re playing a game and all.”
That smile is anything but playful, but I don’t stop him as he drags his lips down the opposite side of my neck, finding a spot that mirrors the bruise and putting pressure.
Purposeful fingers dig into my hips, tongue tracing the outline of what his mouth is about to do. I lose my hand in the dark brown strands of his hair and let my head fall back on the brick.
He sucks a rough, wet bruise on my neck and scrapes his teeth over it when he’s done. Instead of moving away, he stays and breathes slowly against my skin.
“I need you,” he whispers, throwing my own desperation back at me.
I’m still holding my crutches under my armpits, but manage to wrap him in a loose, stilted hug.
“You can have me, baby. I’m here.”
A puff of laughter hits my collarbone, and then dark eyes are peering up at me. “Are you?”
I pinch my lips to keep in the sarcastic retort and barely hold back a shiver when Griffin’s hand slips under my t-shirt to slide across bare skin.
“What if I wanted to kiss you? Dry hump you against this wall and not give a fuck to whoever might see us?”
“Griff…”
His eyes drop, and his fingers press into my side to a painful degree. “You’re only mine in the bedroom. You’re too scared to let me have you out here.”
Before I can reply, he’s pulling away. He throws on a smile and hooks his thumb toward the road. “I think that’s our ride.”
Then, he turns and walks away. Leaves me reeling with a puncture wound in my heart.
For a split second, I see Matty walking out the door. Those big, bright eyes brimming with sadness and tears as he kisses my cheek and bids a final goodbye.
I don’t want that for Griff and I.
So when I swallow the knot sitting at the top of my throat and hobble after him, it’s a split second, reckless decision to reach for him.
To turn him and press him to the side of the car before he can open the door. To abandon one crutch and grip the back of his head. To kiss him like my skin isn’t on fire at all of the eyes around us.
Right now we aren’t Hornets players. We’re just two men out for a drink with their friends, who happen to be horribly in love with each other.
The moment the hotel room door closes behind us, Griff presses me into it and cages my body with strong hands gripping onto my hair and hip. His lips close over mine in a heated search for contact, body blanketing mine like any closer and we might not be able to tell where one ends and the other begins.
The clattering of the crutches on the floor startles me back, but Griff reaches down and grips the thigh of my injured leg to knead it with steady fingers.
“I’ve got you. I told you from day one not to underestimate me.” A grin lights up his face as he presses me harder to the door and slides both hands under my thighs.
I’m perfectly capable of walking short distances on my own—even if I’m not necessarily supposed to—but the red-hot arousal that roars to life when he bears the brunt of my weight and pulls me from the wall is enough to make me okay with playing the damsel just this once.
It’s my turn to attack his mouth, and if I snicker when he stumbles and earn myself a rough squeeze before he drops me on the bed, then it’s only fair.
