by Amy Love
Because Gryff wasn’t that guy. No way in hell was he that guy—and he never would be, to anyone. Not if he kept on living the life he did.
Another bout of vibrations rumbled in his pocket, and once more Gryff let it go straight to voicemail. When it stopped, he dug the phone out to check the caller ID. Sure enough, there was Beth’s name. Three calls. Three opportunities for him to be a decent guy and just tell her that something had come up tonight and he couldn’t make it. Three times he failed.
“Jimmy,” he barked after downing the rest of his whiskey. The bartender sauntered over, drying out a glass, eyebrows up. “Another whiskey. Make it a double.”
“Why don’t you just take the bottle, Gryff?”
“Because I’m not a whole bottle kind of guy,” he fired back, which made the bartender smirk. The only thing he was ever whole about was the Steel Phoenixes, clearly. And that was where his loyalties ought to be. They’d been his family for years. Beth wouldn’t want to be a part of that family. It wasn’t a safe one to live in—especially not with all the deaths. He couldn’t risk her; he couldn’t put her in danger.
He needed her to get out, to get away. He owed her that much.
Beth deserved that much.
Chapter 20
Beth Truman bit the insides of her cheeks at the sound of Gryff’s voicemail, then hung up. She wasn’t being an aggressively clingy girlfriend—she knew she wasn’t. They’d had plans to see each other tonight, and it wasn’t the first time Gryff had bailed on her. She should have expected that he’d be a bit of a flake even if they were officially labeled as sweethearts, but she’d naively hoped that things would change.
They had, and they hadn’t. Since their romantic dinner downtown where they’d agreed to take things to the next level over a bottle of wine and ridiculously expensive appetizers, she and Gryff had been connecting on a more emotional level. It was more fulfilling that way, looking into his eyes and knowing he felt the same deepness that she did. Unfortunately, he was still prone to cancelling their dates at the last minute, and tonight wasn’t the first time he’d ignored her phone calls. At least Beth assumed he was ignoring them. He couldn’t have been so busy for two straight hours, during which she’d called him only three times, that he hadn’t found a second to shoot her a text and apologize for being totally late and all but cancelling their evening with no warning.
A part of her worried he was in trouble, of course. How could she not? He lived in a neighborhood of Blackwoods where people thought it was acceptable to poke nails in other people’s tires for whatever stupid reason they had. Whenever he didn’t answer for an inordinate amount of time, the thoughts at the back of Beth’s mind swirled to a dark place, a dangerous place, and she worried, fleetingly, that something had happened.
So far, nothing had actually happened. No, as February approached and Gryff had skipped out on her more times than she was comfortable with, Gryff Reeves had been totally unharmed every time. Instead he fed her BS excuses like his neighbor needed help with a furniture delivery, or he’d fallen asleep studying. To his credit, he always seemed apologetic, but it was starting to grate on her nerves a little. She’d given up a part of her life—her academic focus—because she wanted to nurture their relationship. Beth had abandoned it freely, willingly, of course, because it was becoming increasingly clear that academia maybe wasn’t for her, but it was still a pretty important part of her life. And sometimes, it felt like Gryff didn’t realize, or acknowledge, what she was giving to him. Mind, body, and soul. The least he could do was return her calls if something came up on a date night.
Exhaling noisily, she turned to look over the back of her loveseat at the clock on the stove. He was officially two hours late. Should she just give up? Assume he wasn’t coming? As she sunk into the plush purple loveseat, wrapped in a blanket she’d knitted with her online knitters’ community last month, Beth decided to give it one last try. Sweeping her thick, wavy blonde locks out of her face, she pressed his number into her phone and brought it up to her ear. Three rings later and it went straight to voicemail, and Beth disconnected the call before the automated message made it to the beep.
Fine. Let him explain himself when they saw each other again—and she wasn’t going to let his sexy dominant side distract her from the truth. She was a law student, damn it. Even if she wasn’t a fan of her program, she knew how to examine someone and ferret out the truth.
Well, sort of. She wasn’t exactly at the top of her class. Not even in the middle these days even. Sinking ever lower down the grading roster to the bottom. It was a little embarrassing, honestly.
With a shake of her head, she sat up and fired off a text to Annabelle, a friendly acquaintance who she’d shared classes with since first year, and said that yes, she would, in fact, be joining Annabelle’s study group after all. They were supposed to meet tonight and an invite had been extended to Beth, but she’d declined initially, knowing she had plans with Gryff.
But if he wasn’t going to show up—again—then she was going to do something productive with herself. No point in wallowing in her dorm apartment, alone, wishing she had a man to keep her company. She was better than that.
She had to be better than that.
Chapter 21
For all his big talk and mental prep work, Gryff was a coward. There he sat, leaning on a campus bench, bundled up in winter gear, as he waited for Beth to finish her last class of the day. Valentine’s Day loomed, and he just hadn’t found his balls yet to break things off. In fact, he was taking her out tonight for a Sorry-I’m-Such-A-Fuck-Up date because he’d missed so many of their scheduled nights. Much to his surprise, Beth hadn’t given him much shit. Recently she’d expressed that she’d like to know in advance if he wasn’t planning on showing up, because then she could get on with her school work instead of waiting around for him to arrive—or not.
And he felt like shit for it. Gryff wanted to pull away. It was best for Beth if he did, but he just…couldn’t. Every time he saw her, those beautiful big eyes drew him right back in, and before long he had her bent over a table, his hand making her ass red, and he was desperate to be balls deep in her perfect pussy. To make himself feel a little better, he tried to pass it off as a physical thing, as if wanting to be around her all the time was because he liked fucking her, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. He knew that he stayed with her because he was starting to fall just a little more for her with every visit, and in the end, he was going to hate himself.
Beth would probably hate him, too.
Swallowing hard, he readjusted the scarf she’d knitted for him recently. Black and thick, it was nothing like the stuff she usually made. If any of the guys in the MC knew he was fucking a girl who liked to knit him stuff, they’d never let him hear the end of it. But he liked the scarf. Practical. Durable. It blended with the rest of his usual dark attire, and if he shoved it to his face and inhaled deeply, he’d catch a whiff of Beth’s sweet floral scent.
She was running a little late that afternoon, but he really couldn’t give her any shit for it. She could be as late as she wanted, and it still wouldn’t compare to all the times he’d stood her up. A couple strolled by him, backpacks on, smiles plastered on their faces, hands clasped. The guy looked at his gal in the most adoring way possible as she talked and then threw her head back in laughter. Beth ought to be with a guy like that—someone who worshipped her in a more traditional way. Gryff did it through pain and punishment. He showed her just how valuable she was by binding her, gagging her, then making her come until she couldn’t see straight anymore.
He sighed heavily. It was a “green” February; most of the snow melted away after a week of warm weather. Now it was just gray and ice and bare trees—but still the Blackwoods University campus was pristine. Much cleaner than the rest of Blackwoods anyway. Still, winter was dreary as all hell this year.
But the one shining beacon in all the gray was the woman he was waiting for. Beth stood out like a firefly i
n the inky black of night. He spotted her immediately as she made her way out of one of the few law buildings, wearing her vibrant pink wool cap and her yellow winter jacket. His little bundle of sunshine. A spark in his otherwise black life. Gryff straightened up at the sight of her, then bit down on his back teeth when he realized she wasn’t alone—again.
His hands curled to fists at the sight of Professor Holstein—James Holstein, specifically. From what Gryff gathered, the guy was the pinnacle of youthful intellectualism, flying through his academic life and earning a coveted position teaching by the time he was thirty.
Oh, and did he mention the professor was handsome as fuck? Magazine cover worthy? Because he was. And Beth was spending way too much time with him. Dropping in for office hours. Helping him organize study sessions. The number of times James Holstein had come up in casual conversation was starting to grate on Gryff’s fucking nerves, but he kept his temper in check. If he had plans to distance himself from Beth, why get all up in arms about some preppy academic dick she seemed enamored with? What did it matter to him, really?
Gryff pushed himself off the bench, tossing his cigarette on the hard, frozen ground and stomping out the embers. A passing student shot him a look that said she disproved of his littering, but he ignored her. If she wanted to make a scene, let her. Gryff welcomed the opportunity to snap at someone in that moment. But she kept on going, and he turned his attention back to Beth, back to the bright dash of color in an otherwise sea of blah.
She stood there for a moment, clutching her laptop in its beautiful leather case to her chest, smiling at her professor as he talked. Gryff itched for another cigarette, but Beth didn’t like kissing him when he stunk of smoke. Instead, he popped a mint and waited, arms crossed, until she was finished. Seconds felt like hours, however, and by the time she started toward him, he’d been biting down so hard on his back teeth that his jaw hurt.
Shake it off, man. Don’t get wrapped up in such petty bullshit.
Squaring his shoulders, he couldn’t help but return her smile, though his wasn’t quite the mega-watt grin that hers was. Instead, he gave a half-annoyed little half-smile as she bounced over to him, leaning down to let her kiss his cheek once she was near enough.
God, she smelled good. Just like the perfumey scent that lingered on his scarf. Briefly, he thought about burying his face in her neck and inhaling her, just to force the tension out of his body, but then decided against it. Because, over her head, he spied that jackass professor, his hands in his pockets, watching unashamedly, and Gryff opted to do what any red-blooded American male would do in the face of such idiocy: he kissed Beth. Long and deep, the kiss felt like he was swallowing her whole, claiming her, as his lips ravaged her sweet little mouth for all to see. She squirmed in his arms, making a sound that was somewhere between a half moan and a squeal of protest.
“Gryff!” she exclaimed, swatting at his chest and stepping away once he let her go. “Not on campus!”
He could tell she was trying to look serious, angry even, but she couldn’t pull that crap with him. Cheeks flushed, lips arched up into a giddy smile, Beth looked perfectly content to be ravished by him. He pushed her long, blonde locks over her shoulder, his cock stiffening at the thought of wrapping them around his hand while he fucked her relentlessly.
But not tonight. Not now, anyway. They had reservations at a restaurant downtown to help sweeten his apology over his terrible attendance record lately, then they were off to an arcade next door. It’d been Beth’s idea—something different, something fun. Gryff would rather shove a fork in his eye and spend the night in the ER than go to an arcade, but he’d agreed because she’d seemed so excited about it.
“Sorry,” he offered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders instead. “I was just excited to see you.”
“Well, my dad won’t be excited if one of my professors tells him I’m canoodling with some gruff-looking biker in the middle of campus,” she fired back, her voice a little shaky as she spoke. Just as he thought: he’d affected her.
“Of course not,” Gryff agreed, doing his best to keep a serious expression as she shot him a sidelong look. “I’ll keep it PG…for now.”
Her blush grew worse at the insinuation, and Gryff knew he had her right where he wanted her.
Which shouldn’t have been at his side, but she felt so good nestled against him, her delicate arm snug around his midsection. All he wanted to do was throw her on the nearest picnic bench and have his evil way with her. Instead, he walked her to the car, forcing himself to ask her how her day was and to tell him about all of her classes. If he just thought about sex and hinted at all the things he wanted to do to her, he’d just fall harder and deeper. Keep it surface level. Keep it safe.
The least he could do was try.
Chapter 22
The last time Beth had been to an arcade, she was eighteen and left it crying. It was one of the last weeks of summer after she graduated high school, and all of her friends were jetting off to bigger and better lives elsewhere. College (and later grad school) called for all of them, and while Beth hung back to attend Blackwoods University, where her dad was dean, her friends scattered across the country. About to carry on to the next adventure, the tightknit group of high school grads did a movie, dinner, and then ended their night at the arcade a few blocks from the university where they’d spent countless weekends and evenings during their four years as best friends.
It had been bittersweet then, a difficult parting. Sure, Beth saw one or two of them after, helping them pack up their rooms or driving out with their parents to the airport, but leaving the arcade that night had been devastating because she knew a part of her life was over. With her closest friends shipping out to new lives, a pervasive emptiness filled her—and, honestly, it had never actually left.
When she’d suggested they head to the arcade after their date, Beth had hoped she and Gryff could change the memory of this place for the better. He was always such a serious guy, his jokes subtle and smiles rare, and she’d thought it would be a good opportunity for them both to let their hair down and just have fun.
Ever since he’d picked her up from campus, he’d been whispering dirty and delicious thoughts in her ear about what he planned to do to her later. Beth could hardly wait. She’d been so wrapped up in helping Professor Holstein organize study sessions with some classmates that she hadn’t even minded that Gryff had bailed on a few more dates again.
Hell, they had no plans for Valentine’s Day, but Beth was just too busy to care. Secretly, she hoped he’d do something for her on the special day, but considering they hadn’t been official a month yet, her expectations were exceptionally low.
Just a fantastic scene with a stunning orgasm would be fine. Was that too much to ask for? Beth was itching to tear her clothes off and let him touch her, but it would have to wait, of course. Arcade first. Fun first. Lightheartedness. Playfulness. That was what she wanted, even if it was only for an hour or so.
“You know, this is totally unfair,” she said, laughing, and leaned hard on the stationary motorcycle to guide the digital one on the screen ahead of her. Gryff was on the machine beside her, totally kicking her ass as far as speed and precision went. “You actually drive a motorcycle.”
“You said I could pick any game I wanted,” Gryff fired back, and she winced when her bike bounced off the wall on the screen, the whole vehicle vibrating on impact.
“I did, but—”
“And this is the game I wanted.”
They exchanged grins…though she couldn’t help but notice Gryff’s didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d been all over her when he picked her up, then backed off completely once they arrived at the restaurant, naughty suggestions aside. While she’d been excited for the arcade, as soon as they arrived, Beth couldn’t help but wonder if it was a little too…immature for Gryff. Families and groups of teens ran rampant at the old arcade, kids rushing from machine to machine without putting any tokens in. Pounding on buttons
, stabbing at touch-screens that demanded payment… It was all a little chaotic. The games were loud and flashy, the kids were even louder, and the overhead the radio was a little static-ridden for her liking.
Still, walking into the arcade felt like coming home, in a way. The usual sensation of her stomach churning and her chest tightening whenever she saw the sign in passing was gone with Gryff by her side. It would have meant the world to her for him to realize just how much this place meant to her—and that it might mean something to him once their date was through.
Sure enough, Gryff’s scores dominated hers. Rolling her eyes, Beth dragged him away from the vehicle driven games toward some of the more traditional ones. When he turned down skeeball and the strength tester, Beth headed for the whack-a-mole wall. There were about six different games set up with different characters to whack, but she went for something a little more standard. After sliding her tokens into the slot, she handed Gryff one of the thick foam hammers, then grabbed the other for herself. Seconds later, the lights and music started up, and Beth was smiling like an idiot. There were a lot of good memories associated with this game—definitely more good than bad.
