My mouth drops open. “You’re not supposed to just answer straight out like that.”
Not that I should expect anything less from him.
I consider bending the truth, but he’s already called me out on my fibs, and fake smiles tonight. “I wanted to study art, but my parents didn’t think that was a good career choice. Lila studied public relations, so I did marketing. When Mom pushed moving to Portland, I promised her I’d give it a try. She had such high hopes for me. She was sure I would hit my stride and blow everyone away.”
I watch him carefully, but his expression doesn’t change.
“This is where you say something sarcastic about me making career choices to please my parents,” I prompt.
“I’m on shaky ground there myself. Some would say I went too far the other direction. My parents wanted me to go to OSU like Caleb did.”
“Ah. So you chose their rival.”
“It seemed like a good way to ease Dad into the idea of me going into construction. Sophomore year, I wound up dropping out and getting an apprenticeship, and then there was no way around it.”
“Your dad didn’t want you to go into construction?”
He leans forward to grab one of the coasters off the table, turning it in his hands. “Dad wanted me to stay right here and run the landscaping company with him and my brother.”
“But you wanted something else.”
He nods, watching the coaster. “I thought I wanted to do my own thing.”
“Because you don’t like letting anyone else be in charge?”
His eyes lock on mine. “Maybe.”
“You’ve gotten used to having me in charge. You’re taking my orders pretty well now.”
He sets the coaster down and relaxes back against the couch. “You’re a special case.”
“I had to rough you up a little first. Prove who runs the show.”
His eyes go all dark and hazy. When they drop to my mouth, my stomach breaks into cartwheels.
“You did do that, boss.”
That short word was never meant to be so sexy.
He draws his thumb and forefinger along a lock of hair that’s fallen from my bun. My body sparks to life beneath that soft touch, practically purring for more.
“Do I still have paint in my hair?” My voice sounds light as a breath. I amnotsubtle, but I do not care.
“No.”
He traces his fingers along my jaw to my hairline, drawing nearer until all I can see are his eyes, intent on my mouth. That slow shift closer is a delicious tease that sets my skin on fire with want. Just before he reaches me, he pauses as if asking a question. I give him my answer by tilting my chin, urging him closer.
Yes, yes. One hundred percent.
Personal space, rational thought, hesitation—it all leaves my body when his lips meet mine. His mouth is decisive, guiding the kiss like he’s leading a tour of all my favorite things. His fingers slip through my hair, cradling my head as he angles my chin, devoted to his task of leaving me totally unraveled.
I want to remember this moment, imprint it on my synapses to recall and savor a million more times, but my mind is too scrambled by everything we’re doing to do more than experience it and hold on.
This kiss is unprecedented in my life—maybe in the history of time. I’ve never kissed anyone and thoughtYes! I was made to kiss this man!But with Griffin, nothing has ever been so perfect. No one has ever left me so content yet wanting so much more.
My left hand moves along his arm and across his shoulder, my right trapped between us, pressing over his heart that races beneath a layer of buttery soft flannel. He likes being in control, but now I realize I much prefer himoutof control. Knowing I’ve affected him as much as he’s gotten to me? I think I’m drunk on it.
Somewhere in the background, Ralphie plots ways to get his BB gun. Flick gets stuck to the light pole. The bully gets what was coming to him.
