Pieces For You (17 page)

I wanted him.  When I silenced my inner monologue and pushed aside the self-doubt, it was really that simple.  I wanted him.  If it were any other man I would be too afraid and abandon ship at the first sign of trouble, but Griffin knew my issues.  When he stepped on the broken shards of my past, he didn’t run away.  Instead, he took me in his arms and carried me to safety.

I understood his worth and, if given the chance, I would treasure him.  After everything I had survived, I deserved happiness…I deserved love.  I had so much love to give and I knew I could fall in love with Griffin.

He finally escaped his fans, approaching me slowly, as if preparing himself for the unknown.  The look in his eyes was so serious that I lost my courage for a moment.

“Yes,” he said.

Huh?  That was
not
what I was expecting him to say. 

“What?” I asked with my own monosyllabic response.

He raised an eyebrow and studied me carefully.  Did he think I was feigning ignorance to let him down easy?  Avoid a messy ‘you’re such a nice guy, but…’ conversation?

“Yes, it was for you.  Every single word and note—all of it…for you.”

That did it!  I turned my back to him, kicked off my heels, and stepped up onto the bench, careful not to knock the table.  I turned to face him, surprised to discover I was now exactly the same height as him.  He looked both confused and amused by my peculiar behavior. 

I placed my hands on his chest, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of his strong, steady heartbeat beneath my palms.  I held his eyes as I slid my hands slowly up his chest, around his shoulders, and behind his neck.  With my fingers buried in the short hairs at his nape, I slowly reeled him in, never breaking eye contact.  I stopped when my lips grazed his, whispering “yes” against his mouth before gliding my lips across his.  He stood frozen, receiving my kiss, as I explored the smooth firmness and shape of his tempting mouth.  I tested the fullness of his lower lip with a gentle nip of my teeth, pulling slightly and teasing the bit I trapped with a flick of my tongue.  I felt his body tense as he held himself in check, letting me direct the pace of the kiss.  That’s right, big boy, I have this under control.  Satisfied I had explored the entirety of that which the world could see, I slid my tongue along the seam, begging entry to the part of his mouth hidden from view.  His sharp inhale rewarded my boldness, and without resistance I entered his mouth.

His arms wrapped around me slowly, snaking about until one settled on my lower back, the other twined in my hair as he cupped my head.  With the slightest pressure, he pulled me in until our bodies touched and his heat pierced through the fabric of my clothes.  He smelled of forest and Tide—woodsy, clean, and masculine—it was unique and enticing.  I explored his mouth slowly, savoring his taste and texture, learning every part and committing it to memory.  He responded to every stroke with his own, caressing me.  The kiss unlike any other built until there was no leader or follower, melding into one consciousness, clairvoyant in our anticipation and responses to one another.  More than a kiss, it was an exchange of vulnerability for trust. 

Hoots and catcalls pulled us from our illusion of solitude.

Uh-oh!  I had forgotten we were at The Stop surrounded by bar folk, and worse yet, all of Griffin’s employees.  My timing may leave something to be desired.  I dropped my forehead to his chest in embarrassment, trying to hide behind the wall of his body, which was a fairly successful strategy considering his size. 

He nestled his face in my hair and inhaled deeply, as if trying to capture every detail of the moment we shared. 

“If this is the reception I can expect, I’ll be sure to perform every week.”

I slapped his chest with my palm, not bothering to raise my head.

“Always hitting me.  Should I be concerned?”

“Only if you insist on saying things that make me hit you,” I replied, my voice muffled by his shirt.

“Fair enough.”

He pulled me against him securely and then stepped back, taking me with him.  Sliding into the booth, he placed me gently on the seat in the same position I began my evening.  Without hesitation, he took my hand, resting it on the table in his.  I was surprised and pleased by his blatant claim.

“How’s it going?” Griff asked Ev and Hunter, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

“How’s it going?” Ev echoed, tapping her chin thoughtfully.  “It’s been a rather boring night at The Stop, to be frank.  My best friend serenaded my bestest friend, after which the same bestest friend climbed on the bench and kissed the daylights out the aforementioned best friend.  Business as usual,” Ev concluded casually.

“Angel, you forgot to mention the audience,” Hunter added helpfully. 

“You’re right, babe.  Thanks for clarifying.”

“As long as you’re both having a good time,” Griff said, matching Ev’s casual tone.

A stare-down ensued.  Ev’s eyes bored into Griffin’s with neither backing down.  When Griff raised my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it without breaking eye contact, she caved.

“Let’s just get one thing clear, Mr.  Evensen.  You know I’ve been rooting for this and I am trusting you to take good care of my bestest friend.  But, now that it’s official, I have to warn you—screw this up, I’ll kill you.”

“I would expect nothing less.  But just so you know, I would kill
myself
before ever hurting Sam,” Griffin said, as serious as I had ever heard him.

“Glad we got that out of the way,” Hunter said to Ev.  “I do have one question, though.  Since when is Griffin your best friend?  I thought I had that job.”

“Are you jealous?” she asked, teasing him.  “Your title was converted to ‘best boyfriend’ when you finally got your head out of your ass and made a move.  Griffin subsequently received a well-deserved promotion.”

Hunter nodded as if Ev’s insane logic made perfect sense to him.

“I accept, but based on my job performance over the last four months, I respectfully request my title be upgraded to ‘bestest.’”

“I’ll submit the paperwork for review and get back to you.”

“Okay, but I was contacted by several headhunters today so I suggest you expedite the process.”

“Excuse me?  What headhunting sluts were contacting you?”

I couldn’t help but giggle, which quickly turned into full-blown laughter when I replayed Ev’s words in my head.

“Love that sound,” Griffin said to himself.

“What’s so funny, Miss PDA?” Ev asked.

“
Head
-hunting sluts—” I squawked before dissolving into laughter again.

“Always in the gutter,” Ev complained.

We stayed at The Stop for another hour, proving how much we enjoyed the company by teasing one another mercilessly.  Griffin never released my hand, drawing little circles on top with his thumb in random patterns that I could feel all the way to my heart.  As the night wore on and my energy waned, I leaned against him, trying to get comfortable.  He raised his arm to provide better access, which I took quick advantage of by snuggling against his hard body and resting my head on his chest.  I felt his hum of approval as he lowered his arm, wrapping it around my shoulder affectionately.

Shortly thereafter, we all agreed it was time to find our beds and began collecting our belongings.  Griffin leaned to the side, swiping my skyscraper Jimmy Choos from the floor where I had kicked them off earlier.  It had been a long day and I was dreading the prospect of forcing my tired feet back into the exquisite torture devices I called shoes.  I may wear heels every day, but that didn’t mean my feet loved me for it.  I eyed the strappy instruments of pain dubiously as I hesitantly took them from Griffin’s hand.  Griffin rose and I scooted to the end of the bench, sighing regretfully as I raised my foot to slide it into the shoe.

“What’s wrong, Lo?”

“Nothing, it’s the price I pay for being vertically challenged and a slave to fashion.”

He nodded his understanding with a small smile—it was a rarity that I admitted my obvious height deficiency. 

I bent forward to face the inevitable feet of fire, only to find myself once again cradled in Griffin’s arms, the designer shoes dangling from my fingertips. 

“You’ve really got a thing for carrying me, don’t you?  Not that I’m complaining.”

“I’m here so there’s no reason to put those back on if they hurt you.”

“Well, my feet thank you profusely,” I said, placing a quick kiss of appreciation on his cheek.

“I prefer having you in my arms,” he said simply, but a wealth of meaning seemed to be buried beneath his words.

“It’s not your job to take care of me, Griff, although I appreciate the sentiment more than you could ever know.”

“Not my job?” he asked, obviously offended.

“Nope.  Why would it be your job…or anyone’s, for that matter?  I have to take care of me—it’s my job.”

“You are responsible for yourself, no doubt.  But make no mistake—it’s my job now, too,” he replied, dead serious.

“Why’s that?  You afraid I’m going to fall apart?  That I can’t handle life in the big, scary world all by myself?  I’ll have you know I am a grown-ass wo—”

He silenced me with a quick, gentle kiss to my lips.  I was so stunned I lost my train of thought completely.

“Hmm, effective.  I’ll have to remember that one.  Since you’re mine, it’s now my job to take care of you.  Carrying you when your feet hurt is a part of my job description, so drop the sass and enjoy the ride.”

I felt like I should argue further, protest my own competence, accuse him of being an archaic Neanderthal…but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.  It may set women’s liberation back fifty-plus years, but I liked the idea of him caring for me.  I knew I could take care of myself.  Perhaps my rediscovered confidence was why I was able to accept his declaration.  I had been self-sufficient most of my life.  After dedicating the last five months to reclaiming all that was taken from me, I was ready to let someone else help shoulder the load.  Lord knows Griffin’s shoulders were up for the challenge.

“Okay,” I chirped sweetly.

His surprise nearly caused him to trip.  Quickly regaining his footing, he paused and examined my face, assessing my sincerity.

“Really?”

“Is there anything I could say that would stop you?”

“Hell no.”

“Then I see no point in trying to persuade you otherwise.  Besides, it sounds pretty damn good to me—on one condition.”

He raised a curious eyebrow in response.

“You have to promise you will let me do the same in return.  This isn’t a one-way street.  If I’m yours, then you have to be mine, too,” I said with conviction, realizing it was what I actually wanted.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way…with two exceptions.”

“Are we in negotiations here?  I would have brought representation, had I known.”

“If there comes a time when my needs, wants, safety, or whatever conflict—yours take precedence.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.  We should flip a coin or something.”

“It’s non-negotiable.  You come first; I won’t accept it any other way.  If a madman is waving a gun, you step behind me.  If we are stranded on a deserted island, you get the fresh water.  If we both come down with the flu, I pick up the medicine.  If we both have a crap day, you vent first.  If there is
anything
you can’t do, we won’t do it ‘til you can—regardless of how much I may want it.  You get me?”

“Wow!  Kind of sounds like a shit deal for you, but I’ll sign.”

“Trust me, I’m still getting the better end of the deal,” he said, kissing the top of my head to emphasize his point.

“Wait, you said two exceptions.  What’s the other?”

“I changed my mind, just the one exception,” he said with a smirk.  “If you can manage to carry me to the car when my feet hurt, then you have my blessing.”

“Dude!  You’re like three times my size and weight, that’s never going to happen.”

“Exactly!”

He placed me in the back of Hunter’s Yukon and buckled my seatbelt before I had the chance.  I rolled my eyes, but let it go.  He leaned in, but waited for me to close the distance and initiate the kiss, which I did enthusiastically.  It ended too soon, but with Hunter and Ev in the front seat pretending not to watch, it was for the best.

“See you tomorrow, Lo.”

With one more swift kiss, he closed the door and was gone.

This was definitely the best day I’d had in longer than I could remember.  I wasn’t sure exactly what we were calling ourselves, what our status was.  What is the relationship status equivalent of ‘mine’?  It implied more possession than just hanging out or casually dating, but it was too new to dub a serious relationship.  When in doubt, keep it simple—‘boyfriend’ would have to do.

It was strange…I was giddy and excited as if he was my first.  He wasn’t, of course; I had dated plenty of guys and experienced my fair share of committed and serious relationships.  Everything with Griffin felt different though—like it was the first, every time.

"Nothing is so healing as the human touch."  -Bobby Fischer