I let out a breath that is half-laugh and half-sob as his arms come around me. We stand in the middle of a motel room in a town I don’t know the name of, and neither of us says anything for a while.
His hand moves slowly up and down my back.
“I didn’t mean vulnerable,” he says. “That was the wrong word. I meant I was trying to be careful with you.”
“I know,” I say into his shirt.
“I’m not very good at—I don’t—Fuck!” He inhales a steadying breath before he speaks again. “The minute I started treating you like something that could break, I stopped seeing you.”
I pull back enough to look up at him. “Yeah, you did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I look at his face, at all of it, the jaw and the gray eyes and the expression I’m only now learning to read properly. “Just see me.”
He looks at me.
He keeps looking, and he doesn’t look away.
“I see you,” he promises.
I believe him. It’s the first thing in a long time that doesn’t feel like it’s going to break.
Thirty-One
Hozier is playing on the radio.From Edengives way toWork Song. Outside the window, the Pacific is just blue, vast, and stretching toward the horizon. I’m in no rush to be anywhere.
I keep looking at Griffin.
I’ve been doing it all morning. I’m no longer subtle about it. Honestly, I’ve stopped trying. There’s no point pretending I’m interested in the scenery when he’s sitting right next to me.
He drives with one hand on the wheel and his other arm resting on the window frame. It’s that relaxed, effortless posture he always settles into after the first hour on the road. His sleeves are pushed up—they always are. I watch the geometric lines of the tattoo on his left forearm; it catches the light every time he adjusts the steering wheel.
His profile seems unfair. He has a straight nose and a jawline that looks sculpted. He watches the road with full focus, as if he’s already come to terms with wherever it’s leading us. He needs to shave. He’s got a couple of days' growth, and I’ve decided I don’t want him to shave it. I like it.
There’s something lingering in my mind today. A quiet, persistent voice reminding me that our two weeks are almost over. Real life is still waiting for me, and it doesn’t care how good the last eleven days have been.
I feel the weight of it for a second, then I shove it back. Not yet. I’m not going back to that reality yet. I’m happy right now. I’m free. I’m choosing this version of things.
I put my feet up on the dash.
Griffin glances over and then back at the road. “Piper.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m driving.”
“I know.”
“You want me to stay on the road,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “Put your damn legs down.”
I tilt my head toward him. “Why?”
His jaw tightens as a muscle leaps in his cheek. “Because,” he says, eyes forward, voice very even, “I want to spread them and dive headfirst into your pussy, and I can’t do that while I’m driving.”
Everything in my body responds to that. “Then pull over.”
His jaw works again. “I can’t.”
