Chapter 20
GRIFFIN
Everything about marrying Selena is terrifying except for the sex.
With her sitting on my painfully aroused cock, I have one comfort: I can communicate with Selena better with my body than I can with words. Somehow, I’m always on the verge of hurting her when I speak, but I know how to worship her body. And she has a body worth benediction.
We kiss, and her warm mouth arouses me further. I touch her soft breasts, her nipples peaking just as hard as I am. I suck on each one, tasting her, marking her. Her fingers trail up my chest, exploring the muscles I work hard to maintain.
My body heats with anticipation when her hands dip lower, grazing my stomach. I want to lose myself in the enchantment of her, but I also know she craves connection.
Her deep green eyes drink me in as if she’s searching my soul. She’s the only real thing right now. My partnership, the acquisition, her family, her ex... nothing makes sense but her.
“Are you okay?” I ask sincerely, leaning forward to kiss her wet neck.
She brushes her lips against my jaw. "I am now.”
Her eyes find mine, and the world fades. I hold her hips and grind along her opening, desperate to be inside her. She presses down on me, smiling like she knows exactly how thoroughly she ruins me.
“You’re addictive,” I say, kissing her soft lips again. She’s drugs and wine, decadence and light.
My hands slide over her ass, spreading her cheeks. I’m beyond ready. She kisses my neck and shoulder.
“You’re dangerous,” she whispers against my skin.
I wonder if she knows how right she is. It’s dangerous to love me because I’m unlovable. I’m white furniture. A sealed file. A sheer drop.
Her fingers trace my bare back with reverence. She kisses my chest, barely breathing, as I position her hips, readying my wife for her husband’s cock. Her fingers rake my scalp and thread into my hair, tugging gently. A low groan tears from my throat. That is all I can stand.
“Make me yours,” I command softly.
She stops for a moment. A thought penetrates, and then a mask lowers over her features; she’s hiding feelings. Because if I’m hers... then I need to keep her. Forever.
She takes her hand and guides me to her entrance.
“You’re mine,” she declares as I slide in.
She rocks her hips, taking me deeper, then molds her body to mine, wrapping her arms around my neck as she rides my length. Beneath the surface, we begin our strange dance. I press in, she grinds down. My heart races; hers beats so fast I can feel it against my chest.
A gasp escapes her. I lift her out of the water, bringing us to the edge of the hot tub.
I stay buried in her, her head knocking against my shoulder.
I hold her tightly, angling her perfectly so I can thrust upward and fill her completely.
I kiss her shoulder, tasting the chlorine and her sweet, perfumed skin.
She holds onto me, keeping her balance as I pump harder. She’s panting, mewling. I need to lay her down before I lose control completely.
I carry her up the stairs to the deck and gently pull out only long enough to set her on a soft white lounger. I scramble back on top, nudging my cock back in. I’m an animal now, covering every inch of her. She’s engulfed by my frame, but she’s still at the command center of my world.
Everything zooms into a pinprick of light, of focus. She cups her hands on my ass, pulling me deeper. I press my hand between us and ravage her clit with my thumb until she’s shivering beneath me.
“Come for me, Selena. Shatter on my cock.” I whisper the words against her ear.
She grits her teeth. Her eyes squeeze shut, and her pussy tightens around me like a vice. It holds me in its grip as she convulses, riding the biggest orgasm she’s ever had.
“Good girl,” I praise.
Swept under by the sight of her pleasure, I let go. I come hard, my body tightening until I hear ringing in my ears. I pulse into her, filling her with warmth.
The world around us is silent but for the distant hum of the city. I stay inside her, overwhelmed. We lay there, chest to chest, my forehead resting on her cheek, both of us slick from the water and the exertion. The cool night breeze hits our bare skin.
I lift my head and trail a finger over her cheek.
“Are you still okay?”
She grazes her lips over the stubble on my chin. “I am.”
I carefully slide out of her, and we both feel the loss immediately.
We lay on the lounger under the stars. I reposition us so she’s in my arms, her leg draped over my hip. She traces lazy circles on my chest with her finger, painting me with the water dripping from her hair.
I think of us. My hair is salt and pepper; hers is shocking blonde. I wonder what our child might look like. I make a silent prayer that the baby has Selena’s angelic face.
She turns and looks up at the sky. I move a stray hair from her eyes.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“Is this real?” she asks in a soft, quiet voice.
“It isn’t,” I say instantly.
She stiffens in my grasp, then relaxes. She knows it’s not real; we are under contract. This is just us enjoying the perks.
“Right. Sorry.”
I kiss the top of her head. “You are responsive, emotional, and you fuck like you mean it. I like being married to a woman like you. But don’t get dragged into forever with a douchebag,” I tell her. “One day you’ll remember this and be glad you didn’t stay.”
She flattens her lips into a stern line and nods.
I run my hand along her arm. She shivers. “You’re getting cold. Let’s get you inside.”
I help her off the lounger and grab two fluffy robes from the cabana cabinet.
“I was wondering where the towels were,” she muses, snuggling into the terrycloth.
“I really do need to give you a proper tour,” I confess. I’ve neglected my domestic duties.
“I bounced around a little this afternoon,” she says, taking a step. She falters, stumbling slightly.
“What’s wrong?” I panic. I never panic.
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “I’m fine. I’m always a little tired and loopy after we have sex. You’re not a small man, Griffin. You really go for it.” She laughs sweetly.
Bless her well-fucked little self. But she’s also pregnant, and I want to make sure she stays safe.
“Come here. Hold my hand, just in case.”
I offer my hand. She gives me a perplexed smile but takes it.
“I’m really okay.”
“I know. I just like touching you.”
The moon casts light on her beautiful face. I give her a smile, just to let her know she pleases me. There is something unspoken in her expression. Something that looks terrifyingly like love.
I hold her hand as we walk down the stairs to the master suite.
“Do you want to wash the chlorine off?” I ask as we enter the room. “You'll feel crusty if you don't.”
“I certainly do not want to be crusty,” she says. Then, her face goes pale.
“Sorry.” She rushes into the bathroom and kicks the door half-shut as she dives for the toilet.
I catch the door before it closes. She is retching violently into the bowl. I immediately pull her hair back from her face.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out between heaves.
I rub her back while she throws up nothing but bile. She doesn’t have much in her stomach, just our lunch.
“Did you get this sick before you met me?” Perhaps she has a condition she hasn’t shared.
“Sometimes. I’ve always had a sensitive stomach.” She looks panicked, her face beet-red. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
“You’re pregnant, love. I’m going to see much worse,” I tell her, wondering why she’s so shy about it.
“But it’s disgusting.” She looks at the floor.
“It’s your body. Nothing about you is disgusting. Trust me. Do you still feel sick?”
I continue to rub her back. “This may be hormones, it could be nerves, or that baby is more like his father than his mom.” I kiss her cheek. She looks as white as a ghost. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”
I help her to the sink to brush her teeth, then turn on the hot water in the shower. I hold her up while I wash every inch of her body.
I can do this—take care of her physically. Emotionally? I'm not so sure. But let me do what I'm able.
“Okay.” She touches my cheek. There’s that loving look again.
I finish washing her and carry her to bed. She lies against my chest, and I brush her damp hair with my fingers. Her eyes droop, and soon she falls asleep.
As soon as I know she's out, I slip out of bed and call Beckett.
“Do you know what the fuck time it is?” he answers, spitting fire.
“I know you’re doing the same thing I am—watching your sex-ravaged woman pass into euphoric bliss. Don’t lie.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I want to pass into bliss too. I have a two-year-old who wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn. What do you want?”
I love how shitty we are with each other. Like true brothers.
“Selena is throwing up a lot. She’s sick almost every day, and she barfed up the morning-after pill the night I met her. Is this related to the pregnancy?” I’m freaking out. “Or is there something else going on?”
He yawns loud enough to crack my eardrum. “She saw Dr. Jane, right?”
“Yes, but that visit didn’t go well. Selena ended up in the hospital for stress.”
Now he’s awake. “What the fuck, Griffin? You didn’t say she was hospitalized.”
“It was intense. But we’re working through it. She’s here, she’s okay. It’s just... she’s so sick.”
“Morning sickness usually happens in the latter half of the first trimester,” he says, his voice losing its sleepiness. “Around six weeks. That baby probably isn’t yours, Griffin. Or if it is, the nausea isn't from the pregnancy. It’s too early.”
I bristle at his tone. “She’s ten days in. The baby is mine.”
“Bring her to the clinic tomorrow and I’ll take a look. But now, I gotta sleep. As long as there is no blood in her vomit, she’s good till morning.” Beckett hangs up.
“Okay. Thanks.”
I lower the phone and look at Selena. I pull her closer, burying my nose in her hair.
Suddenly, I’m worrying about someone else. It's something I’ve never done in my life. And the weight of it is terrifying.