“Do you want me to wear something else?” I tease. “If it's going to be like this every night, I guess I’ll use my clothing allowance to buy flannel granny gowns.”
“No. It’s just that you look extraordinarily sexy. I’m dying over here.” He nods down at his erection.
“You can masturbate, I guess. Landon used to do it if I fell asleep early.”
“No. I'm not comfortable with that while lying next to you. This is going to be a problem.” He gives me a look as if it'smyproblem to solve.
“I can't wear body armor to bed just because you can't handle yourself.” I make a flirty little move, adjusting the strap of my camisole just to torture him. Why not? He put me in this position.
“Perhaps you and I can satisfy our urges with one another on occasion. Would you be interested in having sex with me tonight?”
Ugh. He makes it sound like a deposition. Such a lawyer.
“Here's the thing, Griffin. I've already had sex with you and I enjoyed it. I loved it, in fact. But we don’t know each other. Normally, we would be two people dating and exploring that, but we are in a fake marriage neither of us really wanted. We don’t even know if we’re compatible as friends. Are we roommates? Enemies with benefits? How do you see this working out?”
We've had contracts and conversations about tiny minutiae, yet this huge elephant in the room remains unaddressed.
“Selena,” Griffin says, his voice calm but intense. “You are the sexiest woman I've ever met. I want to sleep with you every second of the day. There are very few hours when the thought of fucking you doesn't cross my mind. We've had a great day. You look fucking gorgeous. My cock is out of control. I don't have answers for the long term. This is what I have right now.” He gestures between us. “What doyouwant?”
I look at him. He seems vulnerable. Raw.
“Well, get in bed, husband. Let's play.” I pause. “Just remember: you're only the second man I've been with. I don't intend on being with anyone else during this marriage. So don't call me a slut or a whore, even if it's kinky for you. It makes me feel like shit. I want to be called wife, or... anything beautiful. Make me feel like I've made the right decision here.”
I speak my truth, terrified he’ll reject it.
“Fair,” he offers, a loving smile touching his lips as he climbs into bed. “And to be clear, you're not a whore. You're an absolutely gorgeous woman, and I cannot believe you were single. I’m grateful. I may not always act like it, but I'll compensate you the best way I'm able.”
“You should probably stop talking now,” I tell him. “You're killing the mood.”
He laughs as he slips off his boxer briefs, revealing what he hasn't been able to hide.
“That’s impressive.” I suck in a breath, remembering the feeling of him inside me.
“It’s one of my favorite features,” he teases, moving over to me.
I get into bed. His kiss is warm, and he feels big and safe. Landon was tall but lanky; he always reminded me of how young we were. Griffin looks and feels like aman. He has his shit together. When he wraps his arms around me, I feel secure. It's something I didn’t realize I craved.
He kisses my cheek, then my neck, and my body flushes with heat. I spread my legs, letting him settle between them. I feel the hardness of his cock rub against the silk of my shorts. He slips them off easily. His mouth finds mine again, and as histongue takes control, his finger slides along my center, igniting an already blazing fire.
Those nimble fingers eventually slip underneath my camisole and lift it over my head. I am bare.
“I love this.” I'm not sure whatthisis exactly—the sex, the intimacy, the safety—but I like the way our skin feels together.
I shiver for a moment because everything is so new. Most of what I know of Griffin Calloway I don't like, yet when we are together in bed, nothing feels more right.
“I do too,” he confesses against my skin.
His fingers find me wet and ready. He spreads my slickness, dipping inside and sending bolts of lightning through my nervous system.
“Why does this feel so good?” I whisper. I should be freaking out. I should be running. But he makes me feel... wanted. That’s the intoxicating part. From the moment we met, he has pursued me relentlessly.
“I’ve got you,” he says. I feel the sincerity. We're not in love, but the attraction is undeniable.
His fingers go deeper. I kiss his neck, his chest. He smells like clean skin and ocean breeze. His mouth finds mine as he slowly presses his way inside me. I shiver as electricity arcs through every nerve. He presses deeper, and my legs band around his waist.
I can feel his desire vibrating through him. His heart is thundering against my chest. Is he as nervous as I am? He’s a mature, powerful man, yet with me, there’s a kernel of vulnerability. It’s a tiny, tenuous moment in time.
“Good,” I breathe.
