Handlebar of Shame
Maisie
Disheveled and breathless, I shoved through the door to the front room just in time to hear a familiar voice shouting through the glass.
It was Tessa, whose question carried loud and clear. "What have you done to Maisie?"
I froze.
Whathadhe done to me?
He'd kissed me senseless. He'd short-circuited my brain. He'd given me so many orgasms, I'd lost count somewhere in the middle.
And apparently, he hadalsomade me forget how shirts work – because mine felt weird, like I'd put it on backwards and maybe inside-out.
Of course, I hadn't taken the time to check for sure, much less fix it. And why? It was because it had taken me a solid thirty seconds just to find the darn thing, thanks to the aftermath of last night's clothing tornado, which had flung half of our wardrobe across the back room.
Istillhadn't found my bra, not that I'd made it a priority – not when Griff was out here facing some unidentified door-pounder on his own.
But now I knew.
The pounder was Tessa.
And judging from her face, she had just realized something big. Last night, I had been thepoundee.
Meanwhile, Griff stood motionless, facing the front window, barefoot and shirtless, with his hands low on his hips and his back all broad and chiseled under the overhead lights.
For a brief, insane moment, I just stared. Even from the back, he looked like sin and salvation – defending the door like he hadn't just rocked my world six ways from Sunday.
Damn it.
Focus, Maisie.
I returned my gaze to the window, where Tessa was still staring like she'd just walked in on her parents making baby-number-three.
That snapped me out of it, and I rushed forward, bypassing Griff to unlock the deadbolt and yank open the door.
I expected Tessa to rush inside.
She didn't. Even when I peeked my head out through the open doorway, she didn't budge from the window – or turn to face me.
So, barefoot or not, I stepped out onto the damp sidewalk as Tessa continued to stare through the glass. Without looking at me, she asked, "Is that a tent?"
Oh, crap. Had I forgotten to close the connecting door?
But of course I had.
Then again, did it really matter?I mean, with Griff standing there shirtless, it's not like I could claim to be here working. On impulse, I joined Tessa at the window and peered through the glass, seeing whatshesaw.
Oh, yeah. It was bad.
There was the tent, sitting wide open in the back room. And there was Griff, standing in the same spot as before, eyeing both of us with an expression that I couldn't quite decipher.
Unfortunately, he looked very good doing it. And against all good judgment, my gaze dipped to his chest and lower still to his abs.
Last night, I'd grazed my fingers across that six-pack, and yeah, some mild licking might've been involved. And now, he looked dangerously hot, like Mister July in my favorite firefighter calendar from college.
Next to me, Tessa murmured, "Is that your bra?"
