“Not here to get drunk either, then?” I asked.
He rolled his shoulders in a stretch, inadvertently showing off the muscles beneath his clothes. “No. Just here to clear my mind, not get blackout drunk.”
Clear your mind from what?I wanted to ask, but held my tongue.
My heart rate picked up as Griffin stood. He reached for his coat and began putting it back on.
He was leaving.
“Well,” Griffin said, already halfway turned around. He shot me a grin and a wink over his shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Jake. Or not. Guess it’ll be a surprise, huh?”
My chest clenched. I didn’t know if I was thinking with my heart, brain or my dick - maybe just the last one.
As he was about to leave, my hand shot out to grab his arm. Griffin paused, glancing at me. He didn’t say anything - almost as if he expected me to react the way I did.
The rest of the bar seemed to disappear when our eyes met. Behind the calm, kind veneer of Griffin’s eyes was an unmistakable smolder - he wanted it as badly as I did.
In a low voice, never looking away from him, I said, “There are other ways to clear your mind.”
A slow, sultry smirk spread across Griffin’s face. That was the moment I knew the deal was done.
I always got what I wanted in the end.
