It’s just sex. It’s just sex.
“Rowan can keep a secret, I trust him not to tell Dex. For Christ’s sake, he even swore not to tell Navie.”
Another well-placed hit.
“How kind of him,” I deadpanned.
“Look, what I’m trying to say is it’s just us. You and me. Other than Rowan, nobody knows or has to know. No pressure.”
It was exactly what I’d insisted on. The only thing Griffin would ever be capable of. No-strings-attached sex that both of us could walk away from when it was over. But it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and I already felt those threads starting to tug at my skin. It was already getting messy.
“I need some time to think.” I pushed away from the counter and started around the island toward the door. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Before I moved two feet, his hand grabbed my elbow, stopping me mid-step. “Let me come over tonight. You want time to think, I’ll give it to you. But I want to see you tonight.”
I shook my head and tugged at my arm. He didn’t let go. “I already have plans.”
“What?” The softness disappeared from his demeanor. Everything grew hard and stormy with jealousy. I kept my expression neutral even though I was secretly thrilled to have drawn such an intense reaction from him. “With who?”
“Calm down,” I scolded. “I told Wendy I’d stop by tonight. She needs to have a conversation with someone that isn’t a one-year-old or Dex.”
“I’ll come over after.”
I gave my arm one last hard pull, finally breaking free from his hold. “Jeez, Griffin! I said I needed time. That means I’ll call you when I’m damn well good and ready to talk.”
He stepped into me, not quite menacingly, but it wasn’t all butterflies and rainbows either. “And I said I’d give you a few hours. Then we’re talking. Tonight.”
I narrowed my eyes fiercely and stood on my tiptoes to get in his face as much as possible. “You want to spend your evening sitting in the hallway outside my door, go for it. Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting you in.”
The bastard actually had the nerve to smile as he replied, “We’ll see about that.”
“WHO’S THE BEST AUNT in the world? Who’s the best aunt?” I baby-talked to my niece, Ivy, as I tossed her up in the air over and over. I couldn’t get enough of her adorable laughter. Swear to God, I wasn’t sure there was a better sound on earth than a baby’s hysterical giggling.
Wendy laughed from her seat at the dining room table. “Her first word was Pep Pep, for crying out loud. How much more do you want?”
Tucking Ivy securely in my lap, I reached out and grabbed my wine glass from the table, taking a nice, long sip. “I don’t think undying devotion and obedience is too much to ask, do you?”
Wendy took a sip of her own wine. “Of course not… if you’re Hitler.”
My laughter didn’t help to loosen the remaining tension that still lingered in my shoulders from my episode with Griffin. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I couldn’t help but think that I might have over-reacted just a little, but then another part of me believed that maybe this was for the best. Ending it before it really even had a chance to begin was probably the only way I’d be able to protect my heart from being trampled on.
“You seem different,” Wendy said, her eyes narrowing as her head tipped to the side so she could study me better.
I felt my spine stiffen under her perusal. It was ridiculous, but I instantly thought she knew about me and Griffin, even though that wasn’t possible. “How do you mean?” I asked in an easygoing tone that sounded fake, even to me.
“I don’t know. You just seem… sad.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’m great. The boutique is great. Everything’s great.”
“That’s… great,” she repeated, her tone telling me she didn’t believe a word I was saying.
I picked up my wine and downed the rest of it before standing, Ivy propped on my hip. “I need a refill. How about you?”
“Pepper,” she stopped me. “You know I’m here if there’s ever anything you need to talk about, right?”
“I do,” I answered. “But there’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine. Really. Maybe you’re seeing something that isn’t there because this is the first adult interaction you’ve had in months. We both know Dex doesn’t count. The man has the maturity of a pre-pubescent boy.” Did I feel bad for pushing my sister-in-law’s concerns back on her? Of course I did. I wasn’t a sociopath, for Christ’s sake, but if I didn’t nip this particular conversation in the bud ASAP there would be no stopping her. Wendy was like a goddamned bloodhound when she suspected something was amiss. If Dex ever cheated—not that he would, considering Wendy and Ivy were his entire world… and he wasn’t a douche—there’d be no hiding it from his wife. She’d have the truth in a matter of hours. And Dex’s body would never be found.
“Maybe that’s it,” she replied with a look that said she thought I was full of shit, but she was doing me a favor and letting it go.
Never one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, I looked down at my niece and said, “Let’s go get Aunty Pep Pep more booze.” In baby talk, of course.
“You know,” Wendy called as I carried her daughter into the kitchen in search of alcohol. “It’s times like these that make me question your influence on my kid.”
“What are you talking about?” I yelled back as I rummaged through their wine selection before picking a bottle and holding it up for Ivy to see. I took her delighted squeal and her fist hitting the bottle as approval of my selection. “I’m totally a good influence. Look!” I declared, holding up the bottle. “She’s already developing fantastic taste in cabernet! You’re welcome.”
“Thanks so much,” she replied dryly.
“Next it’s merlot, malbec, and pinots. After that, we conquer the world!”
“Ah, world domination. So this is what women talk about during girls’ night?” At the sound of Griffin’s low, raspy voice I spun around. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Ah, come on, sis. At least use ear muffs, for God’s sake,” Dex sighed, coming into the dining room right behind Griffin.
“Fine,” I gritted, putting one hand over Ivy’s ear and pressing the other into my chest. “I repeat, what the hell are you doing here?”
“He came over to watch the game and have a few beers,” Dex answered, taking Ivy from me and cradling her tiny body into his wide chest. “Silly me, I forgot you two couldn’t be in the same room without risking World War Three breaking out.”
I gave Griffin the evil eye as Dex spoke. The arrogant jackass just grinned happily. He did this on purpose. He knew a scene like the one at Rowan’s wasn’t possible with my brother around so he’d backed me into a proverbial corner.
I opened my mouth to spew something venomous when, all of a sudden, Ivy’s chubby little body was suspended in the air between Griffin and me.
“Look!” Dex exclaimed. “A super cute baby! No fighting allowed around the super cute baby!”
Oblivious to the tension thickening the air, Ivy gurgled a bunch of adorable baby noises before blowing spit bubbles and chewing on her fist.
Damn it! It was impossible to stay angry with all that cuteness floating around.
Propping my hands on my hips, I turned my glare to Dex. “You’ve won this round, brother. But this isn’t over.”
“No worries, sweetness,” Griffin smiled his signature cocky smile. “Battling with you is the highlight of my day.”
I may or may not have growled as the two men grabbed some beers from the fridge and headed back into the living room.
“Jeez,” Wendy muttered from her seat. “Think the two of you will ever get along?”
“Not likely,” I answered as I spun around to top off both of our glasses. More wine was definitely required. I just wished I had some damn oatmeal pies.
Our night had definitely gone off the rails. After finishing another bottle of wine, Wendy and I had reverted to the adolescent, teenaged versions of ourselves and started playing drinking games. We’d already gone through a few rousing rounds of Never Have I Ever, and had moved on to Fuck, Marry, Kill. It was the only way to get my mind off the fact that Griffin was only one room away. And even then, the wine only did so much.
“Ooh! I got it! Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, and Charlie Hunnam.”
“Good choices!” I took another gulp from my glass and gave it some thought. “Okay, so obviously I’d fuck Charlie Hunnam.”
“Obviously,” Wendy agreed as she drank.
“Then I think I’d marry Chris Evans and kill Chris Hemsworth.”
“And your reasoning?” That’s right. We took Fuck, Marry, Kill very seriously. For every answer, we needed a solid argument to back it up.
“Well, I think it goes without saying that I’m gonna have sex with whoever I plan to off first, right?”
Wendy’s tone held a note of authority as she said, “I can agree to that.”
“And I think I’d have a better chance of a long-lasting relationship with Evans. He’d make me laugh.”
Wendy cocked her head. “I can see that. I watched Fantastic Four. The Dude can be funny.”
“Exactly! And I think Hemsworth would spend too long in front of a mirror, checking himself out. No woman should ever marry a man who’s prettier than her.”
“Definitely!” Wendy shouted, lifting her glass in the air, sloshing a little bit of wine over the rim. “Damn! Party foul.” For some reason, a reason only known to us, we both burst into a drunken fit of laughter.
“I gotta pee,” I mumbled as I stood on shaky legs.
“You can’t!” Wendy cried. “If you break the seal now, you’re screwed!”
I snorted out a giggle. “When’s the last time you got drunk, babe?” Wendy had always been terrible at holding her liquor. But after having Ivy her tolerance got even worse.
Her face scrunched up in concentration. “Uh… I think it was our wedding anniversary. When was that?”
I looked at her with glassy eyed shock. “That was a month after Ivy was born!” We broke into another round of loud laughter that only made my need to pee worse. “I really gotta go,” I whined as I squeezed my thighs together and danced from foot to foot.
“Fine,” she sighed with a wave of her hand. “But don’t bitch to me when you spend the rest of the night on the toilet.”
I waddled to the bathroom and let out a breath of relief as I sat and did my business. In the silence of the bathroom, the thoughts I’d tried to suppress throughout the evening started coming back to me. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the fact that Wendy and I had been talking about sex for the past hour and a half. Whatever the reason, I found myself thinking of Griffin and growing more and more aroused with each passing second.
As I washed my hands, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My green eyes were bright and glazed from the effects of the wine. My pale cheeks were flushed pink. Leaning in, I studied my reflection as best as my blurry gaze would allow. Griffin had seen me at my worst growing up. There was no doubt that those precarious years between child and teenager hadn’t been kind, but I’d grown out of my awkward phase long ago. It wasn’t conceit that made me think of myself as a pretty woman. I wasn’t full of myself; I just wasn’t blind. I knew what people—men in particular—saw when they looked at me.
But as I studied my features in the mirror, I couldn’t help but wonder what Griffin saw when he looked at me. Did he remember the bony, lanky twelve-year old, or the fourteen-year old with pimples and braces? Was he able to forget the past and see me as I was now? These were thoughts I had no business thinking with mostly cabernet running through my blood stream.
“Christ, Pepper,” I scolded myself. “No more wine for you.”
Brushing off my suddenly morose disposition, I flipped the lock on the door handle and pulled it open, only to slam into a moving brick wall that forced me backward.
“The hell?” I sputtered as I stumbled, my back hitting the bathroom wall.
“Shh,” Griffin hissed as he shut the door behind him and turned the lock.
“What are you doing?” I whispered as he closed in on me. The already small room seemed to close in further as his large body filled the space. His intoxicating scent thickened the air around us, muddling my alcohol-addled brain even more.
“Time’s up,” he answered vaguely.
“Huh?”
His face came in close, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “I gave you your time to think, now that time’s up.”
“That’s not how it works, Griffin!” I barely got the sentence out when his hand came up and covered my mouth.
“Lower your damn voice.” I stared daggers. “If I remove my hand will you be quiet?” he asked seconds later. I gave the question some serious thought before finally nodding my head in agreement. “Good.”
I was fully prepared to lay into him the instant his hand pulled away, but to my startled surprise, the moment it disappeared he replaced it with his lips. It was no soft exploration of one another. It was a heated, feral battle from the start. Whether I gave or not, he took. His tongue forced its way past my lips, tangling with my own, and there was no holding back the moan that slipped from my throat as the taste of mint mixed with hops exploded on my tongue.
My body began to move of its own accord, rubbing and grinding against the thick ridge of Griffin’s erection trapped behind his jeans. “Oh, God,” I whimpered into his mouth, the need in my body building so hot I feared I’d melt from the inside. “I hate you so much, but I want you so bad.”
Griffin’s mouth disengaged from mine so his lips could trail down my neck, licking and biting as they went. His voice was rough and gravelly with lust as he asked, “On a scale from one to ten, how drunk are you?”
My mouth opened and words poured out before I gave them any thought. “Drunk enough to willingly give you the best blowjob you’ll ever have, but not drunk enough to let you anywhere near the back door.”
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, his forehead hitting my shoulder as his calloused palms slid to my ass and squeezed tightly. “We need to go. Now.”
“’Kay,” I mumbled as I wrapped my fingers in his dark hair and tried to guide his face back to mine. No way in hell was I going to argue when he was the only thing standing between me and one killer orgasm. Our conversation from earlier in the day could happen after I came. Preferably twice.
I actually whined when he wrapped his hands around my wrists and pulled them away from his head just before stepping back. “As much as I like seeing you pout when I stop kissing you, I need you to focus, baby.” It wasn’t until he spoke that I realized my bottom lip was jutting out in an immature frown. Pasting a neutral expression on my face, I met his gaze, only then noticing how his chilly blue eyes sparked with desire. “I’m gonna check and make sure the hall’s clear. Then you head out and say your goodbyes. I’ll be right behind you. Last I saw, Dex was in the dining room trying to talk Wendy into going to bed.”
I couldn’t be sure if it was the wine or the hormones, but my body immediately complied. Once he gave me the all clear, I headed down the hall and back into the dining room on legs that were even shakier than when I left it minutes ago. As soon as I turned the corner, I saw my brother still hard at work, trying to get his sloshed wife up to bed. “But I’m not tired,” she protested, her body flopping around in his arms like a lifeless ragdoll. When Wendy went in for a sloppy kiss and declared, “I want you to put another baby in me,” I knew it was time to go.
“Uh… guys?” I spoke, drawing their attention to me. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
“Boooo!” Wendy belted out. “I was having fun.”
Dex, ever the easyg
oing husband, simply swung his wife’s arm over his shoulders and hoisted her against his side as best as possible. “Okay, sis. You all right to get home?”
I felt his heat at my back and before I could answer, Griffin was talking for me. “I’ll make sure she gets there safe, man. It’s late. You take care of that one,” he pointed to Wendy. “I’ll get this one.” When he pointed at me I wanted to snap his finger for talking about me and Wendy like we were inanimate objects.
But then I remembered. Drunk sex. So I let it go.
“Thanks, brother,” Dex offered as he guided Wendy out of the dining room and toward the stairs. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
I moved their way and gave them each a kiss on the cheek before allowing Griffin to lead me out onto the pouch of their brownstone. Just before the front door closed, I heard Wendy ask Dex, “Chis Hemsworth, Chris Evans, Charlie Hunnam. Who’d you fuck, marry, and kill?”
I’d forgotten how much fun my sister-in-law was.
THE NIGHT MOST DEFINITELY hadn’t gone like I’d planned. Trying to keep my dick under control when visions of the world’s best blowjob danced in my head like fucking sugarplums was nearly impossible.
We’d been in the back of a cab for all of five seconds, on the way to my place—I wasn’t going back to hers as long as that stun gun was there—when she’d passed out cold. I’m talking full-on snoring likes she’s choking to death, drooling on my shirtsleeve, out cold. I’m pretty sure I even heard her mumble ‘You’re one sexy bitch, Michelle Obama.’
By the time the cab pulled up to my house, I knew there was no way in hell she’d be waking up any time soon. After paying the driver and carrying her into my place and up the stairs, I deposited her in the middle of my bed. She let out a snort but never woke as I pulled off her heels. Christ, that woman’s heels always made me hard. Once I had her jeans off—strictly for comfort purposes only—I maneuvered her around to get the covers pulled up around her.
Fire & Ice (The Locklaine Boys #1) Page 9
