I’m so delighted by our nonsensical, quirky conversation that I don’t even think twice when I put my hand in his outstretched palm.It’s only when I’m gripping his big, manly hand that I realize he might not have been asking me to hold his hand.
“Well consider me lured, if that’s your master plan,” I crack.
He squeezes my hand, scooting closer in the chair so that he can bring it to his chest.“You’re in trouble now.”
Based on how fast my heart is pounding, he’s not wrong.I’m in trouble because my high school crush has carried over to adulthood and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to scratch this itch.
He’s so close to me, our gazes so locked, that I have trouble formulating a response that isn’t a confession of love.Keep it light and breezy.“So when does the probing begin?”
He rolls his lips inward, tilting his head to the side.He hasn’t backed off, and my hand is still firmly gripped in his.I thought I’d fallen in love with my spot on the couch earlier, but this iswaybetter.I’d like to stayhereforever, please.
Griffin lets out a sigh, feigning deep concentration.He never lets go of my hand.“That depends on whether the rubber mask gets involved.”
Giggles escape me, partly spurred on by my very girlish fascination with being this close to such a handsome, virile man.Somewhere deep inside me, it feels like I’ve never gotten laid, though I’m very much not a virgin.I suspect I’ve never hadexcellentsex.Like what Griffin probably has with his puck bunnies.
“This must work a charm on the puck bunnies,” I tease.
“You have no idea.”
The moment is throbbing; intense and bloated and begging for just a little bit more.I’m lost in the gray-blue swirl of his eyes, the feel of his heat seeping into me.I’ve never held hands with a man likethisbefore, where it felt as powerful as foreplay.
Does he feel this too?
Self-doubts crash back into the moment, reminding me of where I stand.I’m definitely imagining this intensity, projecting a one-sided fantasy.Are you kidding yourself?Griffin Keegan and YOU?I’m the last one he’d want to hook up with.He has a list of at least a hundred other women, more beautiful and successful and fit than I am, ready to sleep with him any day of the week.
I slip my hand out of his, determined not to misread this situation.I don’t want to embarrass myself.Not when I’ve spent so much of my life being embarrassed for one reason or another.
“Maybeyou’rean alien,” I say, trying to ignore the twist of my gut warning me of any number of missteps that I’m likely making right now.“That would explain why you can sprint so fast.”
“No, that’s just the Bulgarian split squats I do on the regular,” he says, leaning back into his chair.A gust of cool air reaches me, reminding me that it’s so much better being close to him.
“That’s exactly what an alien would say,” I tease.
“You want another beer?”He nods toward my empty can as he stands up.“I’m heading to the kitchen.”
“No, I think I’m okay.”I eye the hills of his biceps as he reaches for the sliding back door.“I don’t want to come anywhere near a hangover tomorrow when I go back to my parents’ house.Plus I’m feeling a little subpar in the health department around you…”
He arches a brow, leaning against the door.“How so?”
“Bulgarian split squats, crazy sprinting abilities”—I gesture at his general area—“and these muscles?Like can you bench press your own house or what?”
“Only upon request,” he replies coolly.
“I could probably stand to lay off the carbs, is what I’m saying.”
He squints at me like he’s trying to understand my words.“Casey, trust me when I say this.You don’t need to change a thing.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“So…no beer, right?”He pulls open the door, still watching me for confirmation.“Because you don’t want a hangover.Not because you think you need to change anything about your diet.”
“Right.Because my diet is staying the same and I will continue to not do Bulgarian split-squints.Squats.Whatever.”
Griffin smiles and heads inside.When he returns a few moments later, he’s got two bottles of water in his hand.He hands me one wordlessly and reclaims his spot in the chair beside me.
“Thanks.”I’m fighting a grin, because why is it so touching and hot when a man thinks of our needs?
“So your parents aren’t a fan of hangovers.Your sister isn’t a fan of your centerpiece recommendations.”He twists off the lid and takes a sip.“What else am I missing?”
