Their lips met. Their tongues dueled.
She ground against his straining cock, and he covered her hips with his big hands, helping her along. Rocking and surging, their clothes an unwanted barrier.
Everything became hotter. More frantic. More demanding.
He thrust against her aching center and said against her lips, “That’s right. Ride me.” He squeezed her ass hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow and growled in frustration. “I need to fuck you. I need to bury my cock inside you and pound the hell out of you.”
At his words, it was like a flame burst. She cried out, leaning back against the steering wheel and blaring the horn again. “Yes.”
Then his mouth was on her breast, her nipple in his mouth. She clutched at him. Holding him tighter. She whispered urgently, “Harder. Please, Griff, harder.”
He groaned and sucked deeper, stronger, his other hand coming up to pinch and pluck her other nipple. His teeth sank into her flesh, she keened, and rode his cock, the seams of her jeans a delicious press against her clit.
He created that perfect rhythmic pulling and rubbing, the feel of his erection.
So damn perfect.
She got lost in it.
She never wanted it to end.
The orgasm barreled toward her, but she pushed it away. Because the pleasure coursing through her was almost better than climax . . . it was endless.
There was a loud knock on the windowpane.
She screamed in surprise as reality rushed over her.
Griffin jerked back.
He glared, but they couldn’t see anything as the windows were completely fogged over. Another knock tapped against the glass, and Griffin yanked down her top and his own just as a blaring light shone in the window.
Griffin sat back, raked his hands through his hair, and swore under his breath.
Darcy scrambled back to her seat, shifting and adjusting her clothes. Griffin took a deep breath, seeming to compose himself, before he pressed the button to roll down the window.
The sheriff, Charlie Radcliffe, grinned down at them, tipping his hat. “Evening, Mayor.”
Griffin gritted his teeth. “Charlie.”
“How’s it going?” the sheriff asked in his honeyed voice.
Griffin cocked a brow. “How do you think it’s going?”
He winked at Darcy. “Pretty good, by the looks of things.”
She was going to die from humiliation.
“Can I help you?” Griffin asked, his irritation clear. “Did we not leave you at Mitch and Maddie’s?”
“Why yes, you did.” Charlie gave her another slow smile. “I was on my way home when the call came over the wire. I figured it was on my way, so I might as well check it out.”
“Check what out?” Griffin asked.
Charlie laughed. “Apparently a horn kept going off and someone complained that there were kids out on the service road again.” He ran his gaze over Darcy. “But I had a feeling it was you.”
Griffin ran his hands through his hair, and Charlie laughed again. “Probably not the best idea for the mayor to get caught screwing around in an illegal parking zone.”
Through gritted teeth Griff said, “I’ll take it under advisement.”
“See that you do,” Charlie said, looking back and forth between Griffin and Darcy. “Probably best if you go somewhere else.”
“Will do.” Griffin sighed. “I trust this will remain between us?”
He tipped his hat again and straightened. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“Thanks.”
Darcy’s stomach dropped, and all the lust that had been riding her hard evaporated into thin air, leaving behind a humiliating sickness. She looked out the window and tried to ignore the tightness in her throat. It was always the same old story in this town. She was still that girl, but Griffin wasn’t that boy.
He was one of them.
Chapter Twelve
Back on the road, an uncomfortable silence had taken hold of the car, all the heat and desire from before, gone. Griffin glanced at Darcy who stared out the window, fingertips pressed to her lips, apparently deep in thought.
They might have years separating them, but he still knew her, still remembered. She was upset. He just didn’t know why.
He brushed her leg, and she moved away. “Darce, talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say.” Her tone was flat, with no emotion. “What happened back there was a mistake.”
In the darkness of the rural road he couldn’t see her expression, and it frustrated him. “Was it?”
“Yes.” She seemed to blow out a deep breath. “Can you take me home?”
“All right.” He clenched the steering wheel. “Are you upset because Charlie saw us? I can promise you he won’t say a word.”
She huffed and shook her head. “You’re such an idiot.”
He turned left onto her street and pulled up in front of her tiny house. It was run-down and dilapidated. The small porch sagged on one side. It looked old and abandoned, ready to move on from its life as a home. Ironic that it was the one thing standing in the way. He could take the house, he had the legal grounds to do so, he’d made sure of it. But at what cost?
Darcy wouldn’t forgive him.
Did he need her forgiveness? Did it matter? She’d fight him until he won and was forced to play his hand and take her mom’s house away. After, she’d leave to go back to her life in New York, where she wanted nothing to do with him or Revival.
So what did forgiveness matter?
He looked at her. She still stared out the window, but made no effort to leave his car.
He took that as a sign to talk.
“Why am I an idiot?” he asked, shifting in his seat to face her, despite the fact that she didn’t look at him.
Seconds ticked by as he waited for her answer, and when he thought she wouldn’t give him one, she spoke. “I hated the way I grew up. Hated that everyone assumed I was trash just because of where I came from.”
“I hated that too.” He had. His daddy had been rotten to the core, and Griffin had looked just like him. Everyone assumed the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree, and, growing up, Griffin had done whatever he could to exceed those expectations.
“When I left this town, I swore I’d never let anyone treat me like that again.”
“That’s a good thing.”
She turned to face him then, and her cold expression sent a chill right through him. “You just did.”
He frowned at her. “I don’t understand.”
“All you cared about was that Charlie wouldn’t tell anyone.” She waved a hand, and it sliced through the small space that separated them. “You’re one of them now. I’m still an outsider. Still not fit for company. And I’m sure as hell not good enough for the now king of this stupid town.”
Anger rose in his chest. “That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not.”
He shook his head, trying and failing to keep hold of his temper. “That had nothing to do with you. And I’m not going to apologize for making something of myself. I’m not going to apologize for caring about the town I live in and wanting to see it thrive.”
“You didn’t make something of yourself!” she yelled, clutching her purse with tight fingers. “You sold out.”
“Why?” He waved a hand in her direction. “Because I didn’t go to some big city like you did? I don’t want that life. I like walking down the street and knowing all the faces. I like not being able to walk into the local diner without having to have a conversation with someone. I like knowing I can leave my doors open in the summer. I chose not to run away. Which is a hell of a lot more than I can say about you.”
“Yeah, well, good for you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But I told you I’m not going to be your dirty little secret.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “That was not about hiding you. I’m the mayor. I can’t go around bringing women to my house.”
“So you have to hide who you are to be accepted.”
“No, I protect the reputation I’ve built. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She scoffed. “Pretending to be a choirboy when you’re clearly not, that’s real honest.”
He gritted his teeth. God, she was the most frustrating woman. And she was pushing all his buttons, just like she always did. “You’re one to talk.”
She jerked her head. “What does that mean?”
“You run an anonymous sex blog while talking about how important it is to be open and honest.”
Her eyes widened.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. I found you, Miss Victoria.” He smirked. “It wasn’t that hard when you know what to look for.”
She stared at him openmouthed, and he continued: “How are you any better than I am? Did you think after your mom bragged to anyone who would listen that you’d been published in the New York Times that I wouldn’t Google you? So it was funny when you showed up and told me you wrote a sex blog. A real bad-girl profession, all while pretending you don’t write respectable, literary think pieces on sexual politics and gender issues under your real name?”
Her expression twisted, and, for one horrible moment, Griffin thought she was going to cry and felt instantly contrite. Instantly sorry.
She wet her lower lip with her tongue. “You’re right. Who am I to talk?”
She went to leave, and he gripped her wrist. “Darce, wait.”
“No.” She pulled away. “You’re right. But it’s not the point. I don’t like the way this town makes me feel. I don’t like the way you make me feel.”
“How do I make you feel?” He didn’t want to know. His stomach already bitter with the knowledge that he’d hurt her.
When she met his gaze, he could see the brightness in her eyes and hated himself for it. “Like I’m not good enough.”
Right then he knew the truth. She’d never worked through any of those childhood feelings; she’d hidden them away and pretended they didn’t exist. And being home was forcing her to deal with all of them. That she still saw herself as that teenage girl, convinced everyone was judging her and finding her lacking. “That’s not true. Name one person who’s treated you badly since you got here.”
“Gina.”
He scoffed. “Gina’s jealous of you.”
“I know.” Darcy’s voice sounded soft and hurt, and Griffin wanted to take her in his arms.
“Nobody thinks you’re not good enough.”
“I know that here.” She touched her temple. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“I’m sorry.” He looked away from her.
“I’m sorry too.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “We’re the past and that’s where we need to stay. We’re not good for each other, Griffin. We don’t fit. Not anymore.” She looked away from him. “If you want honest, I’ll give it to you.”
He waited. Knowing he’d hate what he heard.
She pressed her lips together for a second before speaking. “I can’t just have sex with you. I can’t have a good time with you in bed and work out this tension between us, because there’s too much history there. Too much baggage and hurt. And the truth is, fair or not, I’ve never really forgiven you for not coming with me. That you loved this town more than me.”
He looked out the window and let the defeat wash over him. “I loved you. You know I couldn’t leave my brothers. And I pleaded with you to stay. I asked you to marry me.” He’d never told anyone of that humiliating day when he’d begged her to stay, getting down on one knee and asking her not to leave him.
“I was right to say no. We were kids. It would have ended in disaster.”
“You were right.” It had still fucking gutted him. His dad had taken off, his mom had been sick, and his brothers needed him. It had felt like everything important in his life was falling apart, and she had to insist on leaving. “I’m just saying you’re not the only one who got hurt.”
“Then I guess we’re even.” Her voice was soft and distant.
“I guess so.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
She got out, and he didn’t stop her. Didn’t even look at her. When he heard the door close, he gunned the engine and drove away.
Chapter Thirteen
Darcy avoided the citizens of Revival for five days and tried her best not to think about Griffin.
She’d done the right thing. She’d severed the threads of the bonds that were trying to tie her to him. They had no future. And she was self-aware enough to know she was too emotionally attached to sleep with him. Just that brief interlude in the car felt enough to ruin her for other men.
But she couldn’t stop replaying their argument in her head over and over again. She’d never tell him, but he was the inspiration behind her blog. Way back when she was a girl he’d taught her to own her sexuality, be proud of it. He’d taught her to never settle for less than she deserved. To demand equal pleasure. And to never, ever be afraid to ask for what she wanted.
When she’d moved to New York and finally started dating again, she’d realized Griff was an anomaly. That most men expected her to take a backseat when it came to sex, and that wasn’t acceptable to her. The more she talked to her girlfriends, the more she found that was the norm.
So she’d started her blog to empower women.
But Griff was right. She used her real name to write more serious pieces on the social impact of sexuality. Not because she was embarrassed, but because her blog was fun, tongue in cheek and a bit snarky. She wanted those “real” articles to be taken with the credibility they deserved. In her head, she justified her actions because the people who mattered to her knew about her alter ego, and had never thought much about it. How was it any different than what he did?
She supposed, in the end, the semantics of what they hid and revealed was merely a convenient thing to fight about instead of confronting the truth about what really bothered them. That not much had changed since they were eighteen. Age, success, circumstances didn’t change the fact that they had no future.
So she was right to pull away. Only she couldn’t stop being so miserable without him.
She’d filled her time. She’d talked to lawyers, researched and tried to figure out if there was a way to save her mom’s house.
So far she hadn’t been able to find one.
She’d thought about staging a protest, but the town was on Griffin’s side. They all wanted this project. Thought it would be good for the community.
Only Darcy’s mom seemed to want to hold on to the past and be a stubborn obstacle to the future and the path to prosperity. But more and more, Darcy had a hard time getting behind her wishes. Darcy had also looked through the public records and council meetings. She’d read the plans for the town square development that Griffin had appeared to be working on since he’d taken the office of mayor.
She couldn’t deny it was spectacular. Couldn’t deny what he was trying to do for the community. She also understood it.
Because she knew him and his past, knew the project was a way to exorcise those demons. He was taking a place that was an embarrassment and turning it into the town showpiece. All he wanted was to make their side of the tracks something to be proud of.
Did she really want to deny him that accomplishment?
As a last-ditch effort she’d asked Gracie Roberts to join her for lunch. Maybe without everyone there she could discover something that would allow Darcy to continue her fight in good conscience. Give her something to fight for. It was a long shot, she knew, but her mom was worth the shot.
And Darcy had nothing left to lose.
Chapter Fourteen
An hour later Darcy sat across from Gracie in Earl’s Diner. The blonde was dressed in a pair of jeans and a yellow top that hugged her curves and brought out the pink in her complexion.
Gracie smiled and took a sip of her Diet Dr Pepper. “How’s it being back in Revival? Must be s
trange after all these years.”
Darcy looked out the window at the Main Street that hadn’t changed much since she’d been a kid. It was still like Mayberry. She shrugged. “Yes and no. It’s like a very vivid dream. It’s so different from my life in New York, but it kind of feels like home. You know?”
Darcy was surprised the words came out of her mouth, but as soon as she said them she knew they were true. Even though she hadn’t realized it. Revival did feel like home, like a comfortable old blanket, or crawling into sweats after a long day in a dress and heels.
Gracie nodded. “I do know. James and I travel back and forth all the time between Revival and Chicago, trying to make a go of this dual residency thing. Sometimes with the bakery in Chicago and school being in session we spend way more time in Chicago and Revival starts to feel like something I can give up.” She smiled again, and waved a hand back toward the window and the people walking down Main Street. “But then I come home—and that’s how it feels. Like something I didn’t even know I was missing.” She sighed. “We’re going to have to make some changes, because the truth is Chicago life is more demanding, but this will always be home.”
Darcy thought of her life in New York. She’d been here over a week and she’d slipped right out of it. She’d written every day, met her deadlines, but she hadn’t really thought about her life there. She hadn’t called her friends, or missed going to clubs, or gone into withdrawal without a Bloomingdale’s.
Although it had only been a week and as soon as she went back, she’d forget all about Revival. At least in theory.
She took a deep breath and decided to get to the heart of the matter so she could enjoy the rest of lunch. “So I have to ask you something.”
“Shoot,” Gracie said, looking interested.
“It’s about the town project.”
Gracie raised a brow but didn’t say anything.
“I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. Revival isn’t my home anymore and I’m not invested in it. I also love my mom and I don’t want her to be unhappy. But I also don’t want to help her hurt a lot of innocent people, either. So I’m asking, as an old friend, off the record—what do you really think of the project?”
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