GRIFF
Savannah's saying goodbye to Emma at the front door, all smiles and wedding talk. I lean against the kitchen doorframe, watching the way her ass looks in those jeans when she bends to hug Emma. Been a week since she came back, and I still can't get used to having her here. The way she moves through our house like she belongs, filling the gap that we never knew was missing.
I head to the front door, then she spins around after Emma leaves, nearly jumps out of her skin when she sees me standing there.
"Just admiring the view," I say, not hiding what I'm looking at.
Her cheeks go pink, that particular shade that always made something primitive stir in my chest. "Like you must have been when I was sleepwalking. I know you were talking about me."
I push off the doorframe, take a step closer. Close enough to see that flush spreading down her neck, disappearing under her sweater. Makes me wonder what else might be reacting to having me this close.
"You shouldn't flatter yourself," she says, but her voice comes out breathier than she probably wants.
"I don't need to." Another step. She's backed against the wall now, nowhere to run. The way her pupils dilate tells me everything I need to know about how this proximity is affecting her. "Emma fill you in on all the girly wedding shit?"
"It's called planning." She lifts her chin, trying to look defiant, but I can see her pulse jumping in her throat. Fast and hard, like a hummingbird's wings. "And yes, including the flower arranging workshop later.”
"Flowers." Can't keep the amusement out of my voice. The irony isn't lost on me. “I could volunteer to help because I’m so good with my hands."
The double meaning isn't lost on her either. That blush deepens, spreads down what I can see of her chest. Her breathing's getting shallow, and she's doing that thing where she runs her tongue across her bottom lip when she's nervous.
“You and flowers. Please,” she says as she rolls her eyes.
I’m enjoying this new game with Savannah. Something we haven’t played since she got here. We did when we first went out on a date, but it was nothing like it is now. Then, again. Nothing is the way it is now.
"You were staring. Same way you're staring now."
And she is. Her eyes keep drifting to my mouth, my hands, back up to my eyes like she can't help herself. Like she's remembering things she shouldn't be remembering. The way I used to kiss her against this same wall. The way she used to melt when I got close like this.
I lean in, close enough that my breath stirs the loose strands of hair around her face. "What exactly were you and Emma measuring anyway?"
"I told you. Flowers."
"Really?" I brace one hand against the wall beside her head, effectively caging her in. "Because from what I heard, it sounded more like you two were discussing size. Length. Girth."
Her face goes scarlet. "God, you're impossible."
"I'm thorough. There's a difference." I let my eyes drop to her mouth, then back up. "I could show you the difference if you like. In daylight. Maybe having a better view would make you change your mind about... measurements."
She swallows hard, and I watch the movement of her throat. Want to press my lips there, feel that rapid pulse against my tongue.
"I have wedding stuff to do," she whispers, but she doesn't move away.
"Do you?" I lean closer, close enough that our bodies are almost touching. Can feel the heat radiating off her skin. "Or are you just looking for an excuse to run away again?"
"I'm not running."
"No? Then why won't you look at me?"
She does then, meets my eyes with a mixture of defiance and something that looks suspiciously like want. "Happy now?"
"Getting there." My phone buzzes, breaking the moment. She jumps like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't.
"Shit," she mutters, checking her own phone. "Cheryl's car won't start. She was supposed to give me a ride to the workshop."
Of course it won't. God knows why Dax, put one of his sisters as the maid-of-honor. Especially Cheryl. She's about as reliable as a chocolate teapot. "Shocking."
"It's not funny, Griff. I promised Emma I'd be there. She said she couldn’t make this one, but would do the next. Schools and politics and all that.”
