Chapter Twenty-Two Ruby #2
Fear came in right on the heels of allowing myself to ask that question. Fear of losing it. Fear of losing him, even though I’d been the one to set the rules that kept us safe.
Don’t fall in love with me, I’d told him. And there I stood, perilously close to doing exactly that.
“I know you do,” I whispered.
There was more to be said, and admissions danced on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down. Griffin rested his forehead on mine and breathed out, curling an arm around my shoulders as I tightened my grip on his shirt.
“Do I get a kiss for my birthday?” he asked, voice a pleased, deep grumble. His nose nudged mine, and with that simple question, the mood lightened in a heartbeat.
I nodded, pulling my head back to smile up at him. He hummed, tracing his thumb under my bottom lip. “Good girl.”
A delicate shiver racked my frame, and his mouth widened in a grin.
Before he could tease me about a praise kink—Lord, what straight-A student didn’t have one of those—I pushed up on the balls of my feet and sealed my mouth over his.
He took control of the kiss immediately, angling my head with a simple press of his hand under my jaw, his tongue slicking over mine as he let out a low, decadent groan.
Griffin pulled back, sneaking one more quick kiss, laughing quietly when my mouth followed his. “A kiss and some good press. Any other birthday surprises, baby?”
I pushed a smile onto my face and adopted a light tone.
“I thought of asking you to give me a step-by-step tutorial in fellatio.” I laid my hand carefully on his chest, and the flare of heat in his eyes melted every bit of tension I’d been holding in my body.
“I’m a very good student,” I whispered, giving an innocent flutter of my eyelashes.
“Yeah?” he murmured. “Feeling eager, are you?”
“A little. Though I’m not sure my gag reflex is adequately prepared. You’re quite the overachiever in the size department,” I said. After a low chuckle, Griffin leaned down and placed a light kiss across my lips, and my eyes fell closed.
“You are so good for my ego, birdy.” His hand, which had been resting on my backside, snapped against my leggings in a sharp smack. “Let’s finish cleaning up first; then we can talk about who owes who the next orgasm.”
“Oh hell yeah, I’m right on time,” Marcus crowed from the doorway. “Who’s giving out orgasms?”
Griffin rolled his eyes. “You have the worst timing known to man.”
Marcus held up his hands, each clutching an expensive-looking bottle of amber-colored alcohol. “On the contrary, I was blessed with a sixth sense of when my presence is absolutely vital.”
Griffin gave a wry quirk to his eyebrow and backed away. I tried not to pout. With an amused tilt to his mouth, he turned to face his friend. “I thought you were Lauren’s problem now.”
Marcus sighed happily. “I am. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s never getting rid of me.”
“Oh boy,” I muttered. “Can’t wait to see how that plays out. She said she’s never getting married again.”
Marcus set the bottles down onto the island. “Who said anything about getting married? I’ll just travel up here weekly to slake her unquenchable sexual desires. That woman can use me for the rest of her life if she wants to.”
Griffin and I traded a look. “What does she do to you, exactly?” I asked cautiously.
Marcus patted my head. “Nothing I can talk about in polite company, birdy.”
“Hey, that’s my nickname for her.” Griffin sounded so annoyed that I couldn’t help but smile.
Marcus ignored him, tapping out a message and then tucking his phone away. “We have two hours, buddy.”
“Before what?”
“Before your birthday party,” Marcus replied. “A bunch of the guys are coming up. You told me I could invite them.”
Griffin’s eyes pinched shut. “Fucking fuck, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
“Oh yeah. DJ should be here in about an hour.” He spread his hands out, narrowing his eyes as he stared into the family room. “We move those couches to the side, get rid of the coffee table, there’s plenty of room for dancing.”
“What? No. No DJ. No dance party. If you turn Steven’s house into a club, he’ll never forgive you.”
“Please. This entire trip is an exercise in how far we can push that man before he finally drags his ass here from LA to stop us.”
“I don’t know,” Griffin hedged. “I heard stories about that party you threw after the big game last year.”
“Fucking epic,” he said. “It won’t be nearly that big. About half a dozen guys from the team.” Then he grimaced. “And a couple girls.”
“Marcus.”
He held up his hands. “Girlfriends. A fiancée. Maybe even a wife. How crazy can the party get if we have a wife here?”
“But if they bring friends?” Griffin asked.
“I cannot control their social circles, mister.”
Griffin muttered something under his breath, then pinched his nose. A smile lifted the corner of my mouth. Sometimes there really was no other alternative for a moment of spiraling loss of control. It was kinda nice to see it be him every once in a while.
Marcus held up one of the bottles by his face, then snapped a picture with his free hand, tongue hanging out.
“I’ll text Steven that right after the party starts.
” After setting down the bottle, he put his hands on his hips and turned a shrewd eye in my direction.
“You’re not wearing that for his birthday party, Ruby. We can do better.”
I huffed, smoothing my shirt self-consciously. “Well, I didn’t know I was coming to a party, Marcus. I came to work out.”
“Oh, you’ll get a workout,” he promised.
“You should see his dance moves once he gets a few shots in him.” He tapped his wrist. “Clock’s a-ticking.
You have a few hours before the party’s really going.
Me and your man here will finish cleaning up, and I expect a full Cinderella moment when you come back. ”
Griffin gave me a searching look. “Is this okay? It’ll be loud. And people-y.”
The idea of walking alone into a party full of football players was normally the kind of thing that would make me lock myself in my room. It would be loud. And not just people-y, but big, athletic, confident, attractive people.
A whimper threatened to claw up my throat. And not the good kind, like when he’d had his hand between my legs.
He took a step closer, effectively blocking Marcus. “I can tell him no,” he said, eyes on mine and voice low with intent. “We can watch the new version of Emma instead. I can’t imagine it topping the Gwyneth version, but . . .”
Marcus, though he was out of my sight line, snorted loudly. “Yeah right. She was born for that role.”
Griffin rounded on his friend. “Go away. You hijacked my vacation, and now you’re stealing all my movies. Give me two fucking seconds to talk to her.”
Miraculously, the man listened, although he grumbled the entire way out of the room.
Even though my stomach was tight with the sudden, blistering onset of nerves, and I was effectively waving goodbye to one of our last quiet nights before he left, there was an undeniable pull to want to prove to myself how far I’d come.
The fact that he would tell Marcus no—for me—triggered a rush of anticipation so thick that my heart gave an uneven thump.
“I’ll be back later,” I told him. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”