Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Griffin
I t’s ten o’clock and I can’t wait any longer.
I’ve been pacing this damn cabin since sunrise, wearing a track in the floor, replaying last night on a loop. Every breathy sound she made. Every second I had her pressed against me before Piper came crashing in with her circus act.
Sadly, it’s not the first time Piper has attempted drunken acrobatics at the pub. But it is the first time her ass wound up on the floor.
And yeah, I plan to rag on her big time for screwing up my moment.
Because Reese was there. Teetering on the edge. Ready to tumble into me if I’d just pushed a little harder. We were going to burn through every stupid preconceived notion she’s ever carried about her body and her sensuality—one orgasm at a time.
And then—bam. Curtain closed. All thanks to the worst wingwoman in history.
I saw the doubt creep back into Reese’s eyes as I helped her sister to the truck. That look that says she thinks she’s no different than the others in my life.
That’s where she’s dead wrong. She’s the only woman I want.
But I’ve made a decision. No matter how desperately I want to taste every inch of her, I’m slowing it down.
Women paid me for sex—for a performance I could deliver in my sleep.
They paid for the fantasy, but it was never real for me.
And hell, it wasn’t real for them either, no matter what story they told themselves afterward.
But this? With Reese? It’s the first time it feels real. And I won’t cheapen it by rushing.
She deserves more than just a performance. She deserves romance. Sensuality. The slow, lingering kind of love which builds like a pressure cooker, until it explodes.
And it starts today.
Reese peers at me through the door, her eyes glazed with sleep. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you out for a late breakfast.”
“Late?” She pushes her hair behind her ear and rubs the back of her neck. “What time is it? Seven?”
“Not even close. It’s after ten.”
She groans and opens the door fully. “Already? I feel like I just fell asleep. We were at the emergency room until six. Turns out Piper isn’t the only drunken idiot in these parts.”
I jerk my thumb toward the door, trying to hide the sting of disappointment. “Should I leave? Let you go back to bed?”
Reese shakes her head and crosses to her dresser. She’s wearing nothing but a thin T-shirt and underwear, like she forgot I’m standing here.
And then she bends over.
Sweet. Merciful. God.
The hem of her shirt hikes up, and there it is—perfection. Round, bare, and enough to make every promise I made myself this morning feel like a sick joke. Slow? Patient? Hell, I’ve never been tested like this in my life.
My jaw locks, need punching low as I wrench my gaze away. I yank my hat off, drag a hand through my curls, and try to hold it the fuck together.
Too late. The image is already branded into me.
When I glance back, she’s tugging her shirt down in a rush, cheeks flushed. “Oh my God, I didn’t realize. Sorry. Nothing like an unexpected strip show.”
Christ. She has no idea.
I huff out a low laugh, stepping closer, my voice rough with unfulfilled need. “Don’t be sorry, belleza. Just know I’m seriously rethinking our plans for the day.”
She gives me a quick, sheepish smile. “Let me shower and then feed me. We’ll take it from there, okay?”
She disappears into the bathroom, leaving me standing in the middle of her room with a problem pressing hard against my jeans, and growing harder by the second.
The shower kicks on, and I fight every damn urge to barrel through that door and join her. She’s naked. Ten feet away. And every drop of water hitting her skin feels like a personal test from the universe.
Holding women at arm’s length has never been an issue. Not since escorting. My body learned to perform on command, like some well-trained dog—automatic, detached.
But Reese? Reese has turned me inside out. She ignited feelings I didn’t believe still lived in the marrow of my bones. With her, it isn’t about performance—it’s real. Raw. Consuming.
And I need her so badly it hurts.
I grunt, dragging a hand down my face as I adjust myself, muttering under my breath.
Trust me, buddy, I get it. But we’re not doing this the way I’ve done everything else. Not with her.
We’re doing this right.
Even if it kills us both.
The bathroom door opens, and steam spills into the room, curling around Reese as she steps out in a towel. “Sorry. Forgot my underwear.”
A rough sound tears out of my throat before I can stop it. I could die happy right here.
She edges closer, eyes flicking to the dresser I’m braced against. “Excuse me.”
My pulse races as she reaches past me, the brush of damp skin grazing my arm. The towel slips, just a fraction, and she catches it with one hand while the other fumbles inside the drawer.
Five seconds of torture. Her scent, her warmth, the soft scrape of her knuckles against my hip as she digs deeper.
Finally, she pulls free the scrap of lace and backs away, clutching it to her chest. “Five more minutes?”
My hand clamps around the dresser, knuckles whitening. “Yeah.”
Her gaze flicks down, catching on the thick press of my cock against my jeans. Then, her tongue darts out, sweeping along her lower lip.
That settles it. God’s not testing me, he’s flat-out laughing in my face.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, breezy as hell—and fooling neither of us.
I drag my eyes up the line of her bare legs, the damp flush of her skin, finally meeting her eyes. “Baby, I’m starving.”
An hour later, a far peppier Reese strolls out of the diner by my side.
I love that she eats. She had no problem polishing off an omelet, bacon, and toast. She just shrugged at me as she dabbed her mouth with the napkin, a playful smile curling her lips. “Seems I was starving, too.”
Her smile? It’s everything. I could drown in it and never come up for air.
We fall into step on Main Street, taking our time to browse the shop windows.
“That chaise is so pretty,” Reese says, halting outside a store, her finger tapping the glass. “I love antique furniture. There’s a romance to it, you know?”
I nod, edging closer, letting my hand rest on her hip. “It’s beautiful.”
She chews her lip, then flashes me that smile again. “Give me two minutes. I want to look at it up close.”
“Reese—” But she’s already slipped under my arm, darting through the door.
Wonder how long it’ll take her to realize this isn’t an antique shop. One thing’s certain—I’m not missing her face when she does.
The bell jingles overhead, and she halts just inside.
Mannequins in satin slips and lacy bras stare back at her, a whole wall glittering with straps and lace in every color.
Her spine goes rigid. Slowly, she pivots, eyes wide.
My mouth curves as I step in behind her. “Not exactly mahogany tables and china cabinets, belleza.”
“Not at all,” she whispers, ducking her head as her cheeks flame. “Okay, time to retreat.”
Too late.
“Good morning. Can I help you?” A polished salesclerk winds around a display of bras, her smile practiced and knowing.
Reese waves a dismissive hand at the woman. “We’re just?—”
“Getting our bearings,” I cut in, my palm sliding back to her waist. “But I’m certain you can find something perfect for her.”
Reese’s head whips toward me, her jaw slack. “What are you doing?”
A smile curls my lips as I lean close, brushing a kiss just under her ear. “Having the time of my life.”
The clerk steps forward and captures Reese’s hands, tugging them gently away from her sides. “You’re a tiny little thing, aren’t you? But you’ve got gorgeous curves. I’d guess a D cup?”
Reese makes a strangled sound, mortification blazing across her cheeks. “Oh, my God.”
I chuckle, equally amused and aroused. Hell, I want to tell this woman she’s underselling her—because I’ve seen those curves bare and perfect in my head a thousand times already. And the idea that I might see them up close and personal in about ten minutes? I can barely keep my mouth shut.
“Don’t be modest,” the saleswoman says, giving Reese’s arm a light squeeze. “No doubt he agrees with my take.”
“That I do.” My hand tightens on Reese’s hip, just enough for her to feel it.
The woman clasps her hands together as her gaze travels over the racks of lingerie. “Come with me. I have some exquisite pieces that will accentuate all your curves.”
Reese cuts me a sidelong look, her lips twitching in a smirk. “Maybe we can find something for you to try on too, Griffin.”
I bite back a laugh. God help me, she thinks that joke will deter me. All it does is make me harder.
The saleswoman offers a warm laugh. “Sadly, we don’t have anything for men. But we have plenty of things men will enjoy. This way, please.”
The clerk draws the curtain around a small alcove, hooks a few sets inside, and leaves us with a knowing smile.
Reese shoots me a look. “You can’t stay in here while I change.”
I drop into the chair across from the mirror, spreading my knees, forearms braced. “I’m not going anywhere. Come on, beautiful, show me.”
She slips her hair nervously behind her ears and chews her lower lip. “No laughing. Promise me.”
I cross my heart and hold up my hands. “Trust me, that’s definitely not what I’ll be doing.”
She puffs out a breath and disappears behind the curtain. Hangers rattle, followed by muffled muttering. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this? I was looking at a piece of furniture.”
“And now you’re looking at lingerie. Don’t overthink it, Reese. Just own how gorgeous you are.”
Silence. A beat.
“Fine,” she concedes. More rattling ensues, followed by a string of soft curses as she fumbles with the lingerie. “I don’t know about this one.”
“Let me see.”
“No, it doesn’t look right.”
“Reese, either you show me or I’m coming in there.” I hope to God she continues arguing.