Chapter 26
GRIFFIN
I wanted this from the beginning. It’s the only explanation I can come up with for why I put myself in this position I knew would mean failure.
I stroke the hair from Sasha’s cheek as she slowly rises and falls, her eyes fluttering.
She’s naked on top of me, on my bed. She works herself slowly up and down on my cock, which was ready again in what felt like minutes. Then again.
“Griffin,” Sasha whispers, cupping my hand to her face.
“Yes, baby,” I whisper back, even though we’re all alone, miles from anyone, nestled in the safety of my cabin.
“I feel…complete.” She laughs softly. “It’s so corny, I know.” She leans forward so her hands bracket my neck, her breasts grazing my chest.
I want to close my eyes, to relish the pleasure of how she feels on top of me, but I don’t break eye contact. I want to hear every word Sasha says.
“When I’m with you,” she moans as she rests on my cock, “it feels like…like you’re holding on to every part of me. Like there’s nothing out of place.”
She works herself on me again, up and down, soft and warm and perfect.
“You complete me,” she says, then bursts into laughter. “I told you it was corny.”
I love how she’s like this. Chatty when we’re doing it slowly. Laughing while she’s riding me.
I grip her ass now, helping her move. “That was a good movie.”
She kisses me, her lips soft and pliant, her tongue dancing against my teeth.
“Hey!” she exclaims suddenly, lifting her face away. “You never did tell me what your favorite movie is.”
I laugh softly, then, without warning, cup my arm around her lower back and flip us around so she’s on her back, her hair fanned out around her face.
I kiss her neck. “I’m still not going to tell you.”
“Not fair,” she says, arching her back as I bend down, capturing her nipple with my mouth. I thrust into her, tugging at her with my tongue and teeth.
“You never told me yours.”
“It’s not sexy,” she breathes.
“You’re all the sexy I need.”
She moans. She’s close again, and this time I’m not going to stop her from coming. I rise up onto my knees, gripping her hips as I pull her bottom half onto my lap. I soak in the sight of her as she throws her arms over her head.
“It’s Witness,” she says.
I pause. “The ’80s movie?”
She laughs. It’s like bells tinkling. “Yeah. About the Amish kid who witnesses a murder—”
I release her hip from my hand and press a finger to her lips. “No. You were right; it’s not sexy. None of those words should be coming out of your mouth while I’m fucking you.”
She laughs, grasping my wrist to try to pull my hand from her mouth. “Amish men are so sexy,” she manages before I cover it again. She wrenches it off. “I mean it. They build barns with their bare hands.”
“You want a barn? I’ll build you a barn, Angel.”
“Oh God, yes. Have you seen baby horses? Colts and fillies?”
I can’t help the laugh building in my chest. “Enough,” I grunt, leaning over her and covering her mouth with mine. I stay that way as I work us both to the end.
We lie across from each other in the bed, finally spent—or at least Sasha seems that way—as the sky begins to lighten outside.
“You okay, old man?” Sasha asks, smiling. She’s got my hand in both of hers, curled up against her chest.
“No. I’m not sure how I’m going to walk again in a few hours, let alone get out of this bed to head to New York.”
Her eyes, which had been going droopy, flick open. “I forgot you were leaving. How long will you be gone?”
“I could probably come back the day after tomorrow.” I want to come back the same day, but I know Lionel will need a little more time. I also have to wrap things up with the project I abandoned Ford with.
“Won’t that be rushing things?”
She says it like she can see the thoughts running across my face. I’m not used to that. I don’t know if it’s her being extra insightful or me loosening up around her. Maybe both.
“Two nights would be better,” I admit. A week would be ideal, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her for that long.
“Last night I asked my sisters if you could stay with them. They both said of course.”
Sasha smiles, looking touched, then yawns. “Thank you. But I’ll be good here, right?”
“You don’t have to decide right now.”
“Good,” she says, still yawning. How is it that she looks beautiful even with her face scrunched up and her mouth open wide enough to see her tonsils? Can someone have perfect tonsils?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I wait until she’s breathing softly before I let myself rest.
I sleep like a rock with her next to me. I don’t know for how long, just that I wake with a ping to a soft banging sound.
The clock says it’s nine a.m. Despite only a few hours of sleep, I’m instantly alert, my heart thumping.
But really, there’s only one person it could be.
I slip to the door, opening it just a crack.
Sure enough, a tooth-optional man with white hair and a straw hat has his hands cupped around my patio door.
I let out a breath—and a curse. Fuck.
A few minutes later, I’m sliding the door open, slipping out and closing it behind me. “Chester, what are you doing?”
“I knew you were still here. Thought you might be sick or something. Never once seen you not up with the sun.”
He’s holding out a mason jar filled with a cloudy yellow liquid. Chicken noodle soup.
I smile, then scowl, taking the jar and setting it down on the arm of the Adirondack. “Chester, you don’t need to be giving away food. Besides, I’m not sick. Just had a late night.”
Chester’s eyebrows dance, and he leans back, hands on his hips. “So you finally worked up the nerve, didja?”
I set my jaw. “Don’t start.”
“I oughtta sock you, you know. Spendin’ a night of sin with my betrothed.”
I lean back against the railing. “You gave her up for your hens, remember? Also,” I glance over at him, “she’s actually my betrothed. We got married yesterday.”
I don’t know what I was expecting Chester’s reaction to be, but it’s not this. He deflates before my eyes, looking genuinely hurt.
“Chester, I didn’t think—”
“That you’d invite me? That so strange?”
I’m a little stunned. “You haven’t been to town in years.” Except for coming over here whenever he damn pleases, Chester lives only at his place and in the woods around us. Whatever he can’t fish, hunt, or grow, he has me or one of the servers from Betsey’s bring up for him.
Chester looks out into the trees, down at the Quince, sparkling in the morning sun. He looks older suddenly, and I see the way he winces subtly when he tilts back on his heels. “Chill in the air this morning. Fall’s comin’.”
“I’m sorry, Chester. For the record, Sasha wanted to invite you. I said no—I had no idea you’d want to come.”
“Maybe I wouldn’ta come, but I’d sure appreciate the invite. Seeing as you’re my best friend and all.”
I feel that like a knife in the chest. “I promise I’ll always listen to Sasha about people stuff from now on. How’s that?”
“You listen to her on everything, boy. You think you’re smart, but you got a lot to learn from a woman like her.”
“You’re right.”
He nods, then heads abruptly for the stairs.
“Chester, wait.”
He halts but doesn’t turn around.
I call after him. “I’m leaving town for a few days, but Sasha’s staying here. I’ve offered to have her stay at one of my sisters’ places, but I think she’ll want to stay here. Will you keep an eye out for me? You’re the only one I trust for the job.”
Chester’s shoulders pull back, and when he turns around, his chest is puffed out slightly. “Course I will.”
“Give her some space, though, too, would you?”
“I’ll do right by you, Griff. You don’t need to worry a bit.”
I give him a nod.
“Griffin?”
I was already heading back inside, but I turn now.
Chester’s got his hat over his chest. “You’re a lucky bastard. I wish you all the congratulations in the world.”
My chest knots. When I came up with this plan, I didn’t think very carefully about how it would affect other people. So many people have given us their heartfelt congratulations or teared up because they were so happy for me—for us.
And it’s all a lie.
Except for that part where you’ve caught feelings for this woman.
There is that.
“I’ll pass your congratulations on to Sasha.”
“You do that.” Chester plops his hat back on his head, and a moment later, he’s gone, into the trees.