Chapter 20 Penny #3
He pins me with an intense look, his jaw set in stone. “I didn’t want you to. I never wanted you to know. But it feels like fate took it out of my hands along with that ring. Some stupid part of me keeps trying to whisper in my ear, saying this might be my chance. That it might be our chance.”
Slowly and deliberately, as though he’s expecting me to stop him, he lays his hand on my knee. His thumb immediately begins tracing a path there, and even through my leggings, I can feel the heat of his touch.
Griffin is blowing my mind on so many levels, I’ve lost count, and I’m trying to keep up with the whiplash speed in which he’s rewriting our history.
He doesn’t hate me. He likes me. He’s stalking me.
He’s protecting me. Okay, that last one is confusing as hell, because how does being mean equal protection?
But given how Griffin sees himself as some unlovable monster, I guess I can kinda connect those dots, in a very roundabout, indirect path that’s basically a toddler-esque crayon scribble.
“Chance to what?”
“Whatever you want,” he answers, not clarifying anything. “Use me. Tell me to fuck off. Hurt me the way I’ve hurt you. I deserve it.”
Sighing in disappointment, I tell him, “If you’ve been paying attention the way you say you’ve been, you know that’s not who I am.”
“You are sunshine and light, tackling everything life throws at you as though every moment is an adventure to be experienced to the fullest, and never letting anyone or anything hold you back from chasing your dreams, not even yourself.” He sounds sure and confident in that appraisal.
I can’t help but smile because if I were going to write the perfect blurb about me, that’s what I’d want it to say.
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
” I have cheerleaders in my life—my family, my friends, my teammates, and myself—but having Griffin, someone who I didn’t think ever saw me in a positive way and who has never had a cheerleader in his corner, list out the things I value most in myself is powerfully seductive.
“I’m not good enough for you. Nobody is, but I’m definitely not.
I’m fucked up, like really fucked up, and I don’t know how to do any of this.
Feel? Talk?” He shakes his head like those are entirely foreign concepts despite having just done a lifetime’s worth of feeling and talking.
“But I’m willing to try, willing to learn, if you’ll give me time to get there, to where, one day, I might be good enough for you. ”
“You make it sound like you’re damaged goods, but you’re not.
” I scoot a little closer, and his touch moves up my inner thigh the skinniest inch.
“I have hated you, wondered what Dominic saw in you as a friend—or even as a human on occasion—and cursed your name dozens of times. But I’ve also seen you be loyal and kind, helpful and caring .
. . just not to me. That hurt, but now I understand.
” I tilt my head, thinking. “Though I still have to process all that now that I know why you’ve treated me the way you have.
The point is, there’s a good person in there.
” I point at his chest, barely touching him, and he grabs my hand, desperately pressing my palm over his heart.
I can feel the thud-thud-thud pounding beneath the muscle.
“I really don’t want to fuck this up, Penny.
Please don’t let me fuck this up, okay?” he begs.
I don’t think I ever considered that a man like Griffin, with his size and reputation as the fists-first type, would beg for anything, so that he does it for me gives me a heady sense of power.
It’s a feeling I haven’t had before with him, and I think .
. . I like it. “I’m risking everything here, for you, because you’re worth it.
Just don’t let me ruin it.” He shoots me a glance filled with promises and hopes, like my eternal optimism has rubbed off on him.
“I’m definitely worth it.” I take my hand back, patting my own chest proudly.
His lips lift the tiniest bit into what is technically a smile.
Well, the beginning of one anyway. “But I’m risking my heart, one you’ve spent five years bruising, so make sure you’re worth it.
Or it won’t be Dominic you’ll have to fear.
It’ll be me.” I want to set that expectation up front.
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know what I won’t do, and that’s let Griffin backslide into bad behavior. Not a single time.
He nods solemnly, taking that vow seriously.
“What do we do now?” I whisper, hoping he has a clue, because I sure don’t.
Is everything fixed? No. Of course not. But I can recognize that what Griffin’s shared with me today is big, and I’m willing to forgive the other day as momentary postorgasmic panic because I was doing a fair amount of panicking myself too.
The last five years is another subject, though.
Even understanding why Griffin acted the way he did, I’d be stupid not to recognize the red flags.
He’s been wounded, and I’m not in a position to play nurse to a wounded heart and soul that may be beyond healing.
I can’t allow myself to be sucked into a toxic relationship, even if Griffin isn’t guilty of causing his own toxicity.
But he deserves a chance, at least that’s what my heart’s telling me.
Just a cautious one.
“I was thinking I still owe you an apology.” His eyes darken and his voice goes husky and rough.
“A very long, detailed one outlining all my mistakes and correcting each and every time I made you feel . . . How did you put it? Invisible and annoying?” He stands, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.
“That’s a lot of apologizing,” I tease, flirting my ass off because seductive Griffin is doing strange things to my belly. And lower. Things asshole Griffin never did.
He cups my face in his big hands, lifting my eyes to his so I can see the genuine truth shining there as he says, “Penny, you have never been invisible to me. You’re the only damn thing I see most of the time.
And the only thing annoying about you is that I haven’t been able to touch you.
But I will apologize as long as you need me to and as many times as you want to make up for each and every time I hurt you. ”
I’m not 100 percent sure about this. I’m a strong 69—ha ha!
—percent at best. There’s a lot of history between Griffin and me, but also, it feels like I just met the real Griffin Mahoney.
And while he’s throwing around words like love, I understand that it’s not that deep yet, because for all he knows of me, he doesn’t know me.
But he wants to. And I want to know more of this Griffin, the man who has been cruel in a twisted attempt to be kind.
The Griffin who was misguidedly protecting me from himself.
The Griffin who is willing to bare his soul, however dark and damaged it might be.
The Griffin who has been unwaveringly at my side through my latest catastrophe, showing up and having my back even as I do stupid, sketchy things while never once calling me out or blaming me for the situation.
The Griffin who makes the noise in my head, that’s always so very loud, simply cease to exist with his touch.
This isn’t what we should be doing. He has a game to prep for, and I have a performance to get ready for. Most importantly, this is too new, too fresh and confusing. But good decisions and responsible living are boring, especially compared to Griffin Mahoney offering to make me come multiple times.
So while it might not be the best plan, I make a choice for myself.
Selfishly wanting the world to fall away and to fall into the arms of the one man who can make that happen, and knowing it might make everything worse, but hoping it makes things better, I ask, “What time do you have to be at the arena today?”
“I was supposed to be there thirty minutes ago. Coach has been blowing up my phone. But this conversation is more important than that.”
“Than hockey?” I shout, dumbfounded. Then I start shoving him toward the door. “Oh my God! You have to go!”
He grins, catching my hands to stop me, though my puny pushes weren’t moving him at all. “More important than anything.”
That’s ridiculous. Hockey is Griffin’s life.
His mouth finds mine, and he nips at my lip like he’s trying to make sure I’m real. And I feel it . . . I feel important. This moment feels important. Like the start of something big.