Chapter 13 Savannah
SAVANNAH
I'm having my second cup of coffee at the kitchen island, trying to process the size of Griff's dick.
I couldn't sleep. I had visions of me holding it, but then needing two hands.
Putting it in my mouth and choking to death.
It's huge, as if it were an aerial and just trying to get a signal to my bed.
I need an emergency girlfriend consultation.
I can't plan the wedding or even think about anything else without thinking about that huge knot and cock inside of me.
I haven't thought about sex in months. No, years.
A side effect of my suppressants, which was that it could remove all sexual urges, but now it is the only thing on my mind.
Me: Emma. Emergency. Griff is... BIG. Like, really big.
Emma: Yeah, he used to play football in high school. Built like a linebacker.
Me: Not what I meant.
Emma: Oh. OH. How do you know?
Me: Found out last night.
Emma: How many inches are we talking?
Me: I didn't exactly break out a measuring tape in the middle of the night.
Emma: Fair point. Is he home right now?
Me: Yeah, why?
Emma: Be there at 10.
I stare at my phone. "Be there at 10?" What is she planning to do, conduct a scientific survey? The woman is getting married in less than two months, for crying out loud, and so far I haven’t done much. Living with three alphas is a lot more distracting than I thought it would be.
Ten minutes later, Emma bursts through the front door like she's responding to a fire alarm. Her dark hair is in a messy bun, she's wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweater, and she has the determined expression of someone on a very specific mission.
"Where is he?" Emma demands, dropping her purse on the counter.
"Emma, what are you doing here?" I ask.
"Research," Emma says matter-of-factly, helping herself to coffee from the pot. "I'm getting married, not going blind. A girl can appreciate good architecture."
"Really?" I ask.
"You know what I mean," Emma replies. “Did you just sleep with Griff or all of them?”
I should have explained to her how I knew about his size.
“No. He sleepwalks naked.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened even more.
I nod my head.
"Okay, so it's like this," I say, holding my hands apart to demonstrate the length, then adjusting them wider when I realize that's not even close.
Emma's eyes go wide. "That big?"
"Yes, that big," I confirm, readjusting my hands again.
"And the knot?" Emma asks, leaning forward with scientific curiosity.
"I didn't get a good look at that part," I admit, "but proportionally speaking..."
"Holy shit," Emma breathes.
"Exactly."
I'm about to point out that this is completely insane when Griff walks into the kitchen wearing jeans that should come with a warning label and a flannel shirt that's doing unfair things to his shoulders.
His hair is still damp from the shower, and he smells like sandalwood and something that makes my brain short-circuit.
"Morning," he says, heading for the coffee pot with that easy swagger that suggests he has no idea two women are about to conduct a very thorough visual inspection.
"Morning," Emma and I chorus, both of us suddenly very interested in our coffee cups.
Griff pours his coffee, adds cream, and leans against the counter.
"So, um, how are things going with Savannah staying here?" Emma asks.
"Good," Griff says, taking a sip of coffee. "She's already improved our domestic situation considerably. Fewer disasters, better food, cleaner house."
"That's... nice," Emma manages, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
"Emma," I say sweetly, "didn't you mention that we have wedding stuff to do?"
"Yes." But her eyes are not focused on me.
No, I've created a monster as she circles around Griff trying to see what he is blessed with. Griff raises an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the weird energy in the room.
"Everything okay?"
Griff's eyes narrow slightly, like he's trying to decode whatever bizarre female communication is happening. "Dynamics are fine, but I just said that."
"I bet you adjust well,” Emma mutters, and I nearly choke on my coffee.
"Emma thinks," I say, shooting her a warning look, "that maybe we missed out on some things. Back in the day."
"What kind of things?" Griff asks, and there's something in his voice that makes heat pool in my stomach.
"Oh, you know," Emma says, "just... experiences.”
My face goes nuclear. "Emma! You’re getting married!”
"What? I'm just saying, maybe you should explore those possibilities. For old time's sake."
Griff goes very still, his eyes locked on mine. “Knotting?”
“No,” I mumble, because apparently my filter has completely malfunctioned.
“Really?” his eyes widened.
Emma giggles like a teenager. “Exactly!”
Griff sets down his coffee mug and straightens away from the counter, and I'm suddenly very aware of how he fills up the kitchen space. How his presence makes the air feel charged and dangerous. Then he starts to head to the door.
“So let me get this straight. You both want to tie the knot with me?” he asks, pausing in the doorway.
I shake my head while focusing very intently on his belt buckle. And what's below it. "Nope."
Emma nods enthusiastically while staring at exactly the same spot. "Absolutely. If I wasn’t getting married….”
Griff follows our collective gaze downward, and when he looks back up, there's a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth that should be illegal in twelve states.
"Good to know," he says, and then he does something that makes my brain completely malfunction.
He struts out of the kitchen like he owns the world and knows exactly what effect he's having on both of us.
The moment he's out of earshot, Emma and I burst into laughter.
"Oh my God," Emma gasps, fanning herself with a dish towel. "Savannah, you are so screwed."
"I know," I groan, slumping against the counter.
"Like, completely and utterly screwed," Emma continues, setting down her coffee mug and leaning forward conspiratorially.
"I know," my voice muffled.
"And you're going to love every minute of it," Emma declares with a knowing grin.
I bury my face in my hands. "I know."
Emma grins, completely unrepentant, and reaches over to pat my shoulder. "If I weren't completely head over heels for my fiancé, Dax, and my pack, then I might be tempted to conduct some research of my own."
"You're horrible," I mumble through my fingers.
"I'm curious. There's a difference," Emma says, shrugging and taking another sip of her coffee.
"You're getting married in two months!” I exclaim, dropping my hands and staring at her in disbelief. I am relieved the invites have finally gone out, which is one thing off the list, but the guest count keeps creeping higher and there is still a mountain of wedding details waiting for us.
"To a man I adore," Emma agrees, waving her hand dismissively. "But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate when the universe puts a prime specimen right in front of me for educational purposes."
I shake my head, but I am fighting a smile. "You're insane."
"And you're in trouble. Good trouble, but trouble nonetheless," Emma says, pointing her coffee mug at me for emphasis.
She is not wrong. Between Griff's morning swagger display and my heat cycle approaching like a freight train, I am definitely in trouble.
Thank you, universe, for giving Emma a front-row seat to my complete loss of dignity over Griff's sleepwalking naked experience.