Griffin found his first smile of the night as the low, irritated grumble reached his ears. Hayden. The only thing making this evening bearable.
“I already told you,” he said. “All for one, and one for all.”
She snorted. “Last time I checked, I hadn’t volunteered to be a damn Musketeer. I think you mean this is another example of misery loving company.”
He didn’t reply. Because then he would have to confess that he’d lied to her earlier about why he’d demanded Joshua assign her to him for his time in Houston. Making her suffer had sounded better than he didn’t feel quite so alone with her. That her presence calmed the prowling, restless beast inside him. It always had, and even now, when he couldn’t trust her with the real reason behind his decision to accept his father’s terms—as long as she worked for Joshua, he couldn’t entrust the truth about Sarah with Hayden—her effect on him remained unchanged. Not to mention that he just fucking loved looking at her.
Like tonight.
Though he preferred the curls, her sleek, straightened hair streamed down her back like a dark brown waterfall of the purest silk. His fingers itched to caress it…tug it. Fucking mess it up. In deference to the occasion, she’d donned a floor-length gown, the deep emerald not too flashy. She’d probably worn it, hoping to blend in and not draw attention to herself.
If that had been her intention, he could’ve told her she wasted her time. Hayden could wear a potato sack and still garner notice. A man would carefully study the curve of her breasts, breathlessly waiting to see if the full, gorgeous flesh would press against the material. Scrutinize the sway of her hips for just a glimpse of the feminine flare that elicited dirty, raw fantasies. Fantasies of gripping those hips while thrusting into her tight, fluttering pussy, his stomach slapping the perfect globes of her ass.
The dress she wore tonight hid nothing of her sensual, Venus-inspired body. From the front, it appeared modest, the neckline high, the skirt full. But then when she turned around. Fuck. The rich material disappeared, exposing an alluring expanse of dusky, toffee-colored skin from the base of her neck to the shallow dip under her spine. Saint and sinner. Innocent and vixen. Ingénue and siren.
Was Griffin the only man here who could claim intimate knowledge of which accurately described her?
He doesn’t know how hard and messy you like it, does he, baby? He doesn’t know how you love your pussy eaten then fucked? How you love a dick thrusting between those gorgeous tits. He doesn’t know how much you scream when a cock is sliding into your sweet, tight ass.
The taunt he’d uttered to her in Florida haunted him now. Tormented him. No, he hadn’t been chaste these past years. And it was incredibly chauvinistic to expect Hayden to have been. But damn if the thought of any man knowing what her cries and pleas as she orgasmed sounded like didn’t send him down the crimson-paved road of rage. He gripped the glass tighter, the fingers of his free hand curling into a fist. Griffin had been responsible for teaching her the pleasures of sex, of introducing her to the headiness of causing one’s lover’s body to shake and tremble in ecstasy. Then he’d walked away. Now he damned anyone who’d taken his place.
He stared down into the amber liquor. Yeah, he was definitely going to need more of these if he was going to survive not just the minutiae of the evening but these murderous urges as well.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured.
Her head jerked up, her gorgeous hazel eyes widening. Her lush lips, slicked in a vibrant red, parted, and he heard the soft gasp that escaped. Her gaze dipped to his mouth, lingering, before lifting once more. Secrets. So many secrets swam in the gold and green depths. Secrets to which he was no longer privy. Ones he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You clean up well yourself, Samson.”
He smiled at her reference to his hair, resisting the need to rub a palm over his newly tamed beard. Shaving himself clean had been out of the question. Not out of rebellion, but because this—hair length and beard—was him. Still, he’d shaped the hair around his jaw and mouth for the occasion. Had brushed his shoulder length hair into a knot at the back of head. Then he’d donned a dark blue, pinstriped three-piece suit. Fuck the tuxedo.
“And thank you for coming.”
Instead of pointing out that she hadn’t had a choice in the manner, she dipped her chin in acknowledgment, a small smile ghosting over her mouth. “You’re welcome.”
“Griffin.”
Many people called him by his name, but only one woman stated it in that smooth, melodic tone that declared the very best breeding.
Glancing up, he turned and faced Audrey Sutherland.
“Hello, Mother.” Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over her cheek. Her light, floral scent—the same one she’d worn since he was a kid—greeted him. The familiarity tugged at his heart. For all her You-are-a-Sutherland-first-and-foremost bullshit, he loved and had missed her. Unlike Joshua, she hadn’t been hard or punishing. Just absent. “Gorgeous as always. You wear thirty well.”
Pleasure lit the blue eyes she’d passed down to him as she shook her head. “You always had too much charm for your own good.”
“Ah, charm.” He cocked his head to the side. “I believe our Irish ancestors called it blarney. Or bullshit.”
“Griffin, please.” She tapped his arm, but her frown was compromised by the humor glinting in her gaze. Then she sighed. “Son, your hair. I swear, you still look like one of those lumberjacks. I was hoping you’d cut it since my party. No wonder you haven’t come to see me before now.”
“It’s called lumbersexual, I believe. And I did come by the house, but you were at a Save the Petunias meeting, or something like that, so you missed me.”
She shook her head. “Incorrigible,” she said. “Your sister is here with Cash. So are your father and brother.”
The warmth that had eddied in his chest cooled a bit. Not at the thought of seeing his baby sister and her new fiancé. Griffin had met Cash, and he was a good man. Good for Callie. Especially after the cheating asshole she’d married and divorced. His little sister had grown in the time Griffin had last seen her, grabbing ahold of the life she wanted even if it flouted what their parents believed she should want. It was the mention of Joshua and Josh that had him gritting his teeth and scoping out the nearest exit. Like elements with opposing, combustible components, the three of them couldn’t remain in the same area for long periods of time before blowing the fuck up.
“Hayden.” Frost infiltrated his mother’s voice, the bite of it taking him aback. From one moment to the next Audrey transformed from exasperated, indulgent mother into haughty society matron. “What are you doing here?”
“I invited her,” Griffin said before Hayden could reply. “I’ve borrowed her from Joshua for the next two weeks since I still have to work while I’m at his beck and call.”
