Page 102 of The Check Down
I grip his waist as he lines himself up with my entrance. “You’ve got me.”
He pushes inside with one slow roll of his hips. His satisfied groan is followed with “Fuck. Right where I belong.”
He makes love to me with smooth, languid strokes. Our bodies move in tandem—hips, hands, and hearts in perfect sync. There’s a comfortable familiarity to our lovemaking now. The kind that happens when two souls discover they are each other’s missing piece.
That’s what Griffin is for me—a piece I didn’t know was missing until we met.
As our bodies prove our love to each other, he locks eyes with me, holding nothing back. He shows me all his love, adoration,lust, and satisfaction in one look. But vulnerability shines there, too. It’s so raw and honest it hurts. It communicates that I’m the keeper of his heart, and he trusts me to handle it with care.
I frame his face, relishing the way his beard tickles my palms. “I love you.” I infuse those three little words with every ounce of truth in my soul.
He smiles, then he reaches to where we’re joined to rub circles on my clit and increases the tempo of his thrusts. In moments, I’m falling apart. He follows me over the edge, and we collapse in a tangle of heavy, sated limbs.
And as I drift off, he whispers the same three words in my ear.
We’re leaving the most special Memphis Magic outing, and I still haven’t told him about the email. I had every intention of bringing it up last night, but he didn’t get home from practice until late. The guys are working hard to be ultra prepared for this weekend’s game, spending extra time reviewing film and running through plays.
I tagged along with Griff and several Blues players this morning when they visited patients at St. Jude Children’s Hospital. It was touching to watch big, burly football players give signed hats, jerseys, and footballs to the sweet children receiving treatment. Paige and I fought tears as the kids’ little faces beamed when their football heroes gave them fist bumps and told them how brave they are.
Once we’re buckled into Griffin’s truck, he braces a hand on my headrest and twists his upper body to reverse out of the parking spot.
“You never use the backup camera,” I muse.
“I use it.” A sneaky smile curves his lips. “Just not when you’re in the car.”
I blink at him, confused.
I’m rewarded with a wink. “You did this little breath-catch thing the first time I did it. It was hella hot, knowing I could affect you like that. So it’s become routine when you’re in the truck with me.”
“Somehow, that’s both annoying and sweet.”
He barks out a laugh. “’Bout sums me up, don’t ya think?”
“Hmm.” When we’re out on the road, I take his right hand and lace my fingers through his. “What other sweet stuff did you do before we started dating?”
He glances at me sidelong for a beat, lids at half-mast, then untangles our fingers and hands me his phone. I swipe it open and enter his password—my birthday—then I await further instruction.
Eyes on the road, he tips his chin and says, “Notes app.”
Once I’ve navigated to it, I find a note titledBrynn Nelsonamong a few others. My eyes shoot to him. He’s watching the traffic ahead, but the skin above his beard has gone pink. When I focus on the phone again, I can’t hold back a gasp.
On the screen is a list of details about me. Likes, dislikes, habits. All of my important highlights, lovingly curated.
Tears sting my eyes. “Griff.” I don’t know what else to say.
His Adam’s apple bobs. “The night we met,” he says. “Well, met again, I guess. While we sat across from each other at the diner, I had this overwhelming urge to create that list. Didn’t understand why at the time. But it’s like my subconscious knew I’d want a list of my favorite person’s favorites. And not-favorites.”
My heart pinches. This man. How could I even consider moving somewhere he’s not?
That email is a lead boulder in my stomach.
Swallowing thickly, I rub my sternum. Knowing I’ll lose my nerve if I procrastinate any longer, I lick my lips and get it over with. “I, uh, got an email from a university in Florida.”
“About?” Though he arches one brow, his focus remains on the road.
“A job.” I hold my breath.
He’s silent, but his jaw muscles twitch.