Chapter 12 Griffin
Griffin
He’s so fucking pretty.
It honestly kind of pisses me off.
And he’s not pretty in some soft, delicate way either.
I mean, yeah, he’s got these long-ass lashes that shouldn’t make sense on a guy, and his mouth tightens when he’s focused.
His lips press together and his jaw flexes just slightly like he's holding something in his teeth.
It draws all my attention to the shape of his mouth, the way his lower lip is a little fuller.
I could sink my teeth into that plush pillow and it would have just enough give.
And his body…Jesus. He has broad shoulders that fill out his hoodie, the fabric pulling tight across his back when he leans forward.
His forearms are thick and solid, muscle shifting under skin every time he moves his hand, veins standing out when he grips a pen and writes.
He’s all hard lines; there’s nothing delicate about him anywhere.
Watching him makes something low and hot coil in my stomach, and I have to look away before it gets obvious how much my body is reacting.
I can feel it in my chest at first. This awkward tightening and this almost restless heat that spreads low in my stomach. It’s a physical reaction to something I find really fucking hot.
My body reacts before my brain can catch up, and when it does catch up, all it can do is sit there, completely fucking dumbfounded, like what the hell is happening right now?
I’m getting fucking hard.
I’ve never had this kind of pull toward a guy before.
Never had my attention dragged back over and over like gravity’s fucking with me.
Every time he fucking moves, I notice something else.
The sharp line of his jaw. The way his Adam’s apple jumps when he swallows, like I’m supposed to be looking at that.
And then there’s how he sits with his legs spread wide, giving me the perfect view of his cock in his low slung sweatpants.
And yeah, I’ve never noticed another mans package before. My dick’s half hard in my sweats, pressing against the fabric, and shifting doesn’t do shit except remind me how bad it’s getting.
Jesus Christ. How the fuck did I end up here? Oh yeah, professor dick-for-brains saddled me with a partner. Group projects are hell. And it just so happens my partner looks like this.
And I can’t stop looking at him. I want to. I keep trying to find something, maybe some little flaw, that’ll break this spell or whatever the hell it is.
But there’s nothing. He’s just sitting there, being unfairly hot, and too close for my brain to pretend this is normal.
He glances up at me right then and catches me staring. Again.
He pauses whatever he was saying mid fucking sentence and asks, “You with me?”
“Yeah,” I shoot out way too fast. Fuck, my throat’s dry as hell. “Sorry. Just… tired.”
Which isn’t even bullshit. I am tired. I crashed out earlier, face-down in my sheets and woke up to him knocking like the building was on fire. Honestly, I thought it was gonna be Sabrina since I’ve been dodging her for a few days and the idea of seeing her made my stomach twist.
Now my body feels like it’s been turned on. I’m fucking wired. Like some part of me just flicked the fuck back to life and doesn’t know what to do with all this energy.
Jacob just nods, like he buys it. He just keeps going, steady as ever, picking up right where he left off before he caught me staring, explaining some part of neuromuscular something or other. I stop caring what the words mean and just listen to the sound of his voice.
That’s the thing. It’s weirdly nice. Calming, even.
I lean back on my bed and drop my forearm over my eyes for a second just to get my face out of sight. I need a minute to fucking breathe.
Somehow, we actually manage to get a shitload of work done. Which is wild considering I spent half the time trying not to stare at his hands. We’re deep into whatever-the-fuck, when this ache in my shoulder keeps making itself known again.
I try to gut it out, keep shifting like I can out maneuver the pain, but every tiny adjustment sends this sharp reminder straight through my shoulder. I wince once. Again. The third one slips out louder than I mean it to, a sharp hiss I can’t stop.
Jacob cuts off mid sentence and looks at me.
“Your shoulder bothering you again?” he asks, voice steady and professional, but there’s real concern, like he actually gives a shit. That alone almost fucks me up more than the pain.
I nod, jaw tight. “Yeah. Took a stupid hit last night.”
Before I can even process what’s happening, he’s up and moving, stepping right into my space and stopping between my knees like that’s the most natural place for him to be. I widen my legs without even thinking and allow myself to breathe him in.
Fuck, he smells so goddamn good. Masculine but also not overpowering like the guys in the locker room. Whatever cologne or after shave he uses is subtle and really fucking enticing.
He reaches out and puts his hands on my shoulder like he’s done a thousand times and fuck, his thumbs sink into the muscle like he knows exactly where it hurts without asking.
Heat spreads fast. Not just in my shoulder. Everywhere.
His hands are warm and solid, palms heavy against me, thumbs working slow circles. My brain completely short-circuits. All I can think about is how close he is…his thighs inches from mine, his hoodie brushing my knee, his focus entirely on my body.
My body, which is reacting like a goddamn traitor.
I can feel my cock thicken more, pulsing like it wants to make this situation ten times worse. I grit my teeth, try to breathe through it, but my nervous system decides to throw me under the bus anyway.
A groan slips out.
It’s low and rough. Also, to my complete horror, it is absolutely not a pain filled groan. Nope, definitely not pain.
The second it leaves my mouth, everything stops.
Jacob freezes. His hands don’t pull away right away. His eyes flick up to mine, wide and startled, and there’s something in them that hits me right in the chest.
Shock. Heat. Curiosity.
His eyes, big and wide and so fucking beautiful, travel slowly down my body and land on…my massive erection.
Then he jerks back like he’s been burned.
“Oh, shit, I…sorry,” he says fast, cheeks flushing, eyes suddenly everywhere except on me. “I didn’t mean to…I shouldn’t have-”
My shoulder feels cold immediately. My entire body flushes with embarrassment because I just got hard because he stood close to me. Fuck. My. Life.
“I’m just, uh, water. I’m gonna grab some water,” he blurts, already backing toward the door, notebook clutched to his chest. “I’ll be right back.”
And then he’s gone. Door clicking shut behind him, leaving me alone with a buzzing shoulder, a painfully hard cock, and a brain that feels like it just got dropped into a blender.
I don’t move for a second. Just sit there, breathing shallow, skin still tingling where his hands were like my body’s pissed they left. My heart’s hammering way too fast for someone who was just getting a shoulder worked out.
I finally sink back in the bed, exhaling slow and shaky.
Because holy fuck.
That wasn’t just awkward. That was dangerous. And hot. And confusing as hell.
And I have absolutely no idea how I’m supposed to act normal when he comes back in like my body didn’t just out me to myself in my own damn bedroom.
I wrap my hand around my hard cock and stroke up and down, slow and steady. The shower is pounding against my back and my muscles feel so goddamn tense.
The problem, the real problem, is that I can’t stop thinking about him.
About Jacob, standing between my legs like that, close enough that I could see the little flecks of gold in his eyes.
Close enough that I noticed, and I mean really noticed, the slight stubble lining his jaw, the way it shadows his face and makes him look older and kind of unfairly hot in that scruffy, casual way.
It’s not a full beard, but it’s definitely not just lazy morning fuzz either.
And then there’s his Adam’s apple…which, look, I don’t know what it is about it, but it moves when he talks or when he swallows I’m noticing it in high definition, like my brain hit zoom-and-enhance on parts of a man I’ve never thought twice about before.
His shoulders, too, broad and defined under that stupid hoodie that shouldn’t have been attractive. But also… holy shit.
I think about the way he ran his hands along my shoulder. Not just because it helped the pain, which it did, but because his hands are warm and steady and so fucking strong.
My brain immediately starts to wonder what it would feel like if those masculine hands wrapped themselves around my cock and stroked up and down.
Would he grip me tightly? Would he have calloused fingers? Would he swipe his thumb over my head?
Shaking my head, I try to do the sensible thing. The normal thing. I try to redirect my brain the way I’ve done a hundred times before when it starts wandering into places it shouldn’t.
I think about Sabrina.
About the way she looks when she’s dressed up for a night out, how she knows exactly what clothes hug her body in a way that makes heads turn.
I picture her curves, the familiar lines of her waist, the practiced confidence she carries.
I picture her tits while I fuck her, how they bounce and her nipples get hard, begging me to suck on them.
These are thoughts I’ve had before. Thoughts that used to come easily. Automatically.
But this time?
Nothing sticks.
Whatever spark is supposed to be there just…
fizzles out, like my brain is rejecting the image outright.
The warmth drains away, replaced by this strange hollowness that makes my chest feel tight instead of excited.
It’s unsettling, honestly, how fast my mind slips away from her without my permission.
Because the second I stop forcing it, I’m right back where I started.
Back to Jacob.
I wrap my hand around my cock and give in to the thoughts I have been trying so fucking hard to ignore. I let myself picture Jacob as I slide my hand up and down my wet cock.
The sound of my own breathing is loud in the shower, but in my mind, I hear the low, confident rumble of his voice, the one that sends a shiver down my spine every time.
I press my forehead to the cool tile and imagine his hands sliding over my wet skin. The way it would feel to have him pressed up against me, his own hard cock rutting into my thigh.
“Oh fuck,” I groan, hand shuffling faster. “Oh god, Jacob.”
I imagine his eyes looking at me with lust and need. I bet he would sound breathy and needy. I bet he would moan my fucking name when I wrap my lips around his dick and suck him into my throat.
My fist tightens and I gasp as my release paints the walls of the shower.
“Oh…fuck,” I whisper, trying and failing to get my breathing under control.
I’m so fucked.