12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
GRIFF
Mmmm. Warm. Cozy. My limbs are blissfully heavy and there’s a satisfied, relaxed feeling buzzing just under the surface of my near consciousness. I can sense morning light right on the other side of my heavy eyelids, but my alarm hasn’t gone off yet, so it can’t be too late. I squeeze my eyes closed a little tighter and bury my nose in the mass of soft hair that tickles my nostrils and smells like a day at the beach.
My half-asleep brain slowly starts to come online, like an old-ass computer that takes twenty minutes to warm up before you can use it, and I start to become aware of the sound of soft breathing that doesn’t belong to me, and the warm press of bare skin against mine.
There’s someone else in my bed.
Ledger is in my bed.
A little part of me, the part that’s thoroughly enjoying this heavy, contented feeling of being all snuggled up and relaxed, suggests I just keep my eyes closed a little longer, enjoying the steady rise and fall of his back against my chest and the way our bodies fit so nicely together. But there’s no stopping the slow but steady process of the rest of my brain humming to life, full of questions and nervousness.
Was I too needy or eager last night? Did Ledger stay because he wanted to, or did I fall asleep and keep him prisoner like he was my favorite teddy bear clutched to my chest? What does this mean? Does it change anything? Could he… could he like me?
That last question fills my chest with an aching sense of hope that quickly turns to heart-thundering panic.
Ledger shifts in my arms, but instead of loosening my grip, I hang on to him tighter. He lets out a sleep-rough chuckle and then yawns and stretches, squirming against me but not doing anything to try to break free as he works out the tightness and kinks in his muscles.
“Fuck, I haven’t slept that hard in ages,” he groans, then yawns again. “What time is it? Oh hey, listen, there’s a mourning dove cooing close by. I love that sound first thing in the morning, it’s so peaceful.”
He squirms again and I force myself to relax my hold on him and peek one eye open. He doesn’t pull away though, instead he rolls to face me.
Feelings I wouldn’t be any good at naming even if I were fully awake and functioning flutter in my chest and belly as he shifts close again, his soft cock nestling against my thigh and a smile already playing on his lips like his first reaction to waking up is to be happy. Cannot relate.
I grunt, hoping it sounds like some semblance of a morning greeting.
“Last night was fun.” There’s a coy sweetness in his voice that wakes up that achy, needy feeling again. His eyelashes flutter and his smile twists into an even dirtier one. “You fucked me so good you made me drool. I’ve gotten there with toys on my own before, but no other guy has ever managed it.”
A primal, caveman kind of pride swells in my chest and I make a rumbling sort of growl sound in my throat. Ledger nuzzles into my beard and then sighs.
“I’m probably overstaying my welcome. Sorry for falling asleep last night, but it was kind of your fault for fucking me unconscious.” He laughs, running his hands over my chest and flexing his fingers like a cat kneading its favorite blanket.
With another sigh, he starts to roll away, easing the covers back and sitting up. I swallow around the heaviness in my throat and force my thoughts through the fog still lingering in my brain, managing to bark out one word.
“Coffee.”
Ledger’s legs are already over the side of the bed, the morning sun casting lines of brightness across his bare back as it peeks through the blinds. He looks at me over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow.
“Are you asking for coffee or inviting me to stay?”
I huff. He needs more words still? This is why I prefer to be alone. I’m terrible at all of this and I’m sure he’s having a dawning moment of horrified realization as I scowl in his general direction and sit up. Surprisingly, he just keeps smiling though, waiting on the edge of the bed, stark naked and perfectly relaxed, like he doesn’t mind at all if it takes me half the morning to get my body and brain synced up enough to form proper, complete sentences.
“Stay,” I manage after another minute.
Ledger bites his lip and nods.
Of course, as soon as he agrees to stay for coffee, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve lost my entire fucking mind. He’s going to expect morning-after banter, and I don’t even remember what that is. It’s been so long since the first time Riley woke up in my bed that I can’t even remember what we talked about. It’s possible he talked and I spent an hour glowering at my coffee and grunting any time he paused for a breath. It’s obviously been even longer since there was anyone else.
This was a mistake. Not just asking him to hang around, but thinking there’s still even a sliver of a chance that the romantic part of my life isn’t long over. And whoever thinks they have some secret crush on me is even crazier than Ledger is, casting some kind of fantasy filter over me like I’m going to turn into Prince Charming in the end. I’m just the grumpy, not-so-charming Beast, and that’s how it’s going to stay.
I’m still brooding by the time we shuffle out of my bedroom, Ledger dressed in his clothes from last night and me in a pair of boxers and a fresh t-shirt.
“Why don’t you go sit out on the deck and I’ll start the coffee and bring it out when it’s ready?” he says.
I frown and glance past him towards the kitchen.
Ledger grins and pats me on the chest. “I’m sure I can figure out how to work your coffee maker and find your mugs. How do you take it? Hazelnut creamer, right?”
I frown harder. How did he know that? He just smirks and shoos me away. I don’t have the energy to argue, so I leave him to it.
LEDGER
I can feel Griff in every gloriously tender twinge of my ass as I shuffle around his kitchen making coffee. I’m sure Jericho would have a fresh psychoanalysis about the fact that I find Griff’s morning grumpiness so fucking cute, but I don’t care. He has his type, and I have mine. And I am positively fucking giddy to make my growly bear some coffee and smile at him like an idiot while he glares his way through shaking off his morning grumps.
While the coffee machine burbles and hisses, slowly filling the kitchen with the delicious scent of fresh coffee, I lean against the counter and pull out my phone to order Griff another little present. I’ll tell him I’m his secret admirer eventually, but it’s too sweet to watch him blush and try not to smile at these little gifts.
I order him a box of gourmet cupcakes from a bakery in Chicago called Stud Muffin and include another silly note saying cupcakes aren’t the only thing he’s welcome to lick frosting off of. I suppress a gleeful giggle and close out of the website as soon as the order is finished, and then, because I’m either very bold or very stupid, I open his kitchen drawers until I find the junk drawer with pens and a pad of paper in it. Maybe this is my way of keeping myself honest and making sure I really do tell him eventually. Or maybe I just love the thrill of wondering what he’ll think when he eventually finds a note tucked away.
I keep it short and simple. “ I can’t stop thinking about you ~ Your Secret Admirer .” Then I fold it up and put it under the stack of plates in his cupboard.
The coffee maker beeps. I open the cupboard next to the plates in search of mugs. I snort a laugh at the neat row of bland, solid-colored mugs lined up neatly on the bottom shelf. I legitimately didn’t even know they made mugs that didn’t have quippy sayings or cartoonishly pornographic pictures on them. My favorite mug at my house has an owl wearing a monocle on it with a speech bubble that says “whom.” I chuckle just thinking about it and reach for the plain blue mug closest to me.
I pull it down and set it on the counter, and just like when I found the lube hidden behind his shampoo, I’m surprised to spot a mug hidden in the back that’s different from the rest of them. Instead of being a muted primary color, this one does have a quippy saying on it—“Bisexual pirates like all kinds of booty,” with the words written in pink, purple, and blue. I’m as gay as Christmas, but I can’t resist a fun mug, so I grab that one instead of one of the boring ones and fill them up.
After I add cream to both, I slip out onto the deck. Griff’s lounging in a deck chair with his feet up on the railing, his head tilted back peacefully and a relaxed expression on his face. I’m not at all shocked to find TP sitting on the steps looking pathetic, as if I didn’t feed her before I went out last night. Girl, you can wait five more minutes for breakfast, I’m trying to lock down a stepdaddy for your furry ass.
“Uh, I don’t know if it’s a problem, but she was eating some berries off that bush at the edge of your yard when I came out,” Griff says.
“That’s fine. I checked them when I moved in to make sure they weren’t toxic.”
He grunts and nods, opening his eyes and putting his feet down so he can sit up straight. I hold out his coffee mug, but his eyes land on the one in my other hand. I grin, prepared to tease Griff about hiding anything in the house with even a hint of personality. But before I can open my mouth, his scowl deepens and he jumps out of his chair so fast it topples backward.
“Where did you get that?”
I blanch and jerk my hand back, coffee sloshing over the side of the mug to splash onto my hand.
“Whoa, reel in the attitude. It was in your cupboard.” Morning grumpiness is one thing, but I don’t know who he thinks he’s talking to that way. He can go snarl somewhere else.
He has the good sense to look embarrassed, bringing his free hand up to rub the back of his neck and dipping his head as a blush rises in his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
“I can go get a different mug. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to use this one,” I offer reasonably, but he shakes his head.
“No, sorry,” he says again, taking a breath and meeting my eyes again. There isn’t any anger or even annoyance in them now, just something sad and maybe a little tired. “I just wasn’t expecting…” He shakes his head, his nostrils flaring as he breathes out slowly. “I don’t use that one, and I guess I forgot it was there. It belonged to my… Riley. It was his favorite.”
I don’t need the picture on the front of the puzzle box to put those pieces together. Even without context, I’m pretty sure I get it.
“I’m sorry.” I take a step closer, nice and slow in case he needs his space right now, but he doesn’t move away or try to stop me. “Come here.” As soon as I’m close enough, he crumples against me, resting his forehead against my shoulder and letting me put my free arm around him to rub soothing circles on his back.
Poor baby. He lost someone important. Is that why he’s so closed off?
“I’m nailing the morning-after thing, huh?” he mumbles, and I sputter a laugh.
Would my first pick have been to cause him to have a breakdown about a dead lover? Obviously not. But the gust of his hot breath and the tremble in his muscles as he lets me comfort him is a level of emotional intimacy we couldn’t have gotten from pleasant chitchat, so yeah, this is a pretty solid morning after if you ask me. I’m not going to point that out to him and ruin the moment though.
“I’ve had worse,” I assure him, because that’s true too.
He wheezes a laugh and pulls back, straightening back up and looking more pulled together than he did a minute ago, less like he’s on the verge of tears.
“Can I get a do-over?”
I slide my hand down his arm and take a chance at slipping my fingers between his. Again, he doesn’t pull away. If anything, his muscles relax a little more, like touching me grounds him.
“I don’t know. What’s a do-over look like?” I flatten my lips, trying not to laugh.
“Uh…” He crinkles his forehead, and I almost want to apologize again for making him think this hard before he’s even had a sip of coffee. “Honestly, I’m kind of shit in the morning. Maybe you could tell me about more bird stuff while I stare into the depths of my coffee mug for a while?”
I let loose the full force of my smile and squeeze his fingers.
“How did you know that’s my favorite way to spend the morning?” I kiss his cheek then let go of his hand and stoop to right the chair he knocked over, playfully plopping my ass down into it before he gets the chance.
Griff’s lips twitch with an almost-smile and he sits down on the steps right next to TP, who promptly crawls into his lap and tries to stick her entire face into his coffee mug.
“Oh yeah, watch out, she’s a coffee slut.”
I cackle as he lifts his coffee up over his head so she can’t reach it, and then puzzles over how exactly he’s going to manage to drink it while TP proceeds to climb his chest, on a mission to get to the coffee like the determined little bandit she is. While they sort that out, I put my feet up on the railing, mirroring the position Griff was in when I first came out onto the deck, and I start to tell him about the fascinating world of penguin mating rituals.
He hums or grunts every once in a while between sips of coffee—while giving TP a belly rub to keep her mollified—and every time I glance over, he’s watching me, like he’s genuinely interested in everything I’m saying, even if he doesn’t have much to say himself.
I told him I’d had worse morning afters, but in all honesty, this might be the best I’ve ever had. I don’t know who Riley was or how long it’s been since he lost him, but is it fair of me to hope he left a little piece of Griff’s heart for me? I promise to be careful with it if he did.