Griffith crosses his arms over his chest, and I expect him to stop answering my questions. But he doesn’t shut me out, even if I’m making him uncomfortable. “Only on the full moon. Not always then either. They …” He grunts, shifts, and tries again. “They don’t make much of an effort. To see me.”
The words hurt my heart because, damn, do I know what that feels like. I always assumed Griffith, social guy that he is, had a set of two loving parents who doted on him. But it sounds like he’s almost as abandoned as I am.
Or is it worse—to have your family nearby, a handful of minutes away, and still, they don’t bother to see you?
I reach out a foot and poke his thigh with my toe. He flicks his eyes down, then up to my face, brow tilted in cautious confusion.
“If you want some family, I’ll lend you my brother. Short-term rental. Discount deal.”
Griffith barks a laugh, and his arms relax to his sides, one hand settling on my ankle. The heat from his palm seeps up my leg until I’m sure I don’t need a blanket anymore.
“Thanks,” he growls, the noise more playful than threatening. “Can I get two for one?”
“You want me as your sister?” I poke him again, then shiver as he rubs a thumb over the sole of my foot in one firm stroke.
“I don’t think you’re ready for what I want.”
That steals all my teasing words, and I pretend to focus fully on the show even though I don’t comprehend anything after the moment Griffith pulls both my feet into his lap.
Even the lightning fades to nothing.
16
CLEMENTINE
At some point,I must have fallen asleep because I wake up with my body sprawled over Griffith’s. He’s fully reclined on the couch, but the piece of furniture is plenty big enough for me to have my own cushions, even with him laid out.
And yet I ended up here.
The worst part is, I have no inclination to move. Also, my fangs are descended again. I run my tongue over one of the sharp points, and in my half-sleep daze, I imagine what it would be like to bite into Griffith’s neck.
How would he react?
Probably with disgust.
Though, after how he acted last night, maybe I have that wrong. Plus, he let me sleep on him like a mattress pad. The guy had to notice me here at some point. Could have easily shaken me awake and demanded I keep my distance.
With every inhale, I suck in a lungful of musky pine that tempts me to fall back asleep.
But on the off chance Griffith doesn’t know I spent the night cuddling him like a teddy bear, I should really move. Put distance between us before he wakes up.
Ignoring the regret I suddenly feel at the thought of losing my cozy spot, I press my hands against the cushions and lever myself up. I spread my knees and let them brace on either side of Griffith’s body, which turns out to be a more suggestive pose than I considered when I realize he has a morning hard-on that’s now pressing against my center.
Still, through all of this, he remains prone, breathing relaxed, eyes closed.
The devil in me wants to poke him, but I restrain the childish urge and shift to the side, toes of one foot finding the floor.
“You defusing a bomb?” The rough voice has me whipping my head in Griffith’s direction to find him watching me with half-hooded eyes. “Moving like you think I’ll explode.”
Ignoring any possible embarrassment, I scoff. “Trying to be nice and not wake you. Not sure why I bothered when you just used me for a blanket.” I swing my other leg off and manage to get both my feet on the floor.
When I stand upright, Griffith stays where he is, watching.
“You sure I was the one using you?”
I glare at him. “Of course.”
“Where are you going?”
