Page 72 of A Little Secret
Her lips part, and her chest expands on a sharp inhale, causing her breasts to brush against me. She’s surprised. By my candor. My easy admittance. But only for a second. Heaven forbid she let someone in long enough to show them her actual thoughts and feelings for more than a milli-fucking-second.
And just like that, it’s gone.
Shaking it off, she argues, “You say that now, but what if it doesn’t work out? And my brother is only the tip of the iceberg. What if the Tornadoes ask to reschedule your meeting, you move away, and I only see you a few times a year? I just got out of a long-distance relationship. I’m not exactly interested in taking that route again. Oh, and let’s not forget about the baby in my uterus, right? This isn’t only about me and you anymore. There are no guarantees in this, Griff. None. This is a recipe for disaster, and I care about you. I want you to have an amazing, successful life without me dragging you down in the background.”
Maybe it’s my throbbing headache, but I swear I’m hallucinating. This girl wears her confidence like a second skin, and has never been afraid to go after what she wants. Not once. Hearing her put aside those wants for me and my future is not only off-brand, it’s fucking delusional. Especially twice in one conversation. Add in her confession about caring for me, and I’m pretty sure I have a concussion I didn’t know about.
“Did you say you’re afraid of dragging me down?” I ask.
“That’s exactly what I said.”
My mouth twitches. “You wouldn’t drag me down.”
“Yes, I would! I’m not stupid, okay, Griffin? I’m aware my epilepsy makes things more complicated than the average relationship. Add in a baby, and I’m basically a walking thousand-pound bag of luggage no one deserves to lug around.”
My attention falls to her lips again. I want to ask if she’s serious. If she honestly believes all the bullshit she’s spewing. Like she’s a burden to be around when she’s always been the most confident and fucking gorgeous girl in the room. Does she really not see it? The way I want her? The way I’ve always wanted her?
Gripping the counter on either side of her hips, I offer, “Maybe I want to lug you around.”
She snorts. “No one wants to?—”
I kiss her, swallowing her tiny gasp of surprise as my mouth moves over hers. Perfect. She’s fucking perfect, and if I have to shut her up by kissing her so she stops spiraling over bullshit lies like I wouldn’t be the luckiest bastard in the world to claim her, then I have no problem doing exactly that. My hands find her waist, and I tug her into me, letting her curves meld against my body. It’s dangerous doing this. Here. Now. Sure, it’s early, but anyone could walk in. Anyone could see us. But I can’t make myself stop. Can’t make myself regret anything else when it comes to Fin and me. Haven’t we already wasted enough time?
I kiss her harder, dragging my tongue along her bottom lip until she opens up for me. A tiny whimper slips out of her as she touches her tongue to mine, and she grabs onto my sides, fisting the fabric of my T-shirt like her life depends on it. Depends on me. As she tilts her head up even more, I grunt in response and shift my leg between her thighs. Fuck, she tastes incredible. Just like all the other times I’ve tasted her, but even better because there are no witnesses. No games. No bullshit excuses. Just Fin and me and years of pent-up attraction. I dive in deeper. Sucking her tongue into my mouth, my fingertips dig into her waist as I hold on for dear life. All I want to do is pick her up, put her round ass on the counter, shove her underwear aside, and bury myself inside her like I’ve imagined for years.
Not here.
Damn. I’m surprised my self-preservation kicks in at all, let alone is loud enough to cut through the haze of lust pulsing through my veins and shooting south now that I’m kissing her. Now that she’s kissing me.
Being caught kissing her is one thing. Fucking her is probably frowned upon. At least in public. Or in general, now that I think about it. But I’m too turned on to care.
Letting go of my shirt, her hands press against my chest, and she slowly pushes me away, her long lashes fluttering over her delicate skin as she peeks up at me, making my heart thump faster with every inch of distance.
Don’t you dare push me away again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GRIFFIN
“What was that for?” Finley asks.
The quiet question cuts through my racing thoughts as I take in her flushed cheeks. “Someone had to shut you up,” I rasp. “When are you gonna realize I care about you?”
“Griff—”
“As more than a friend,” I interrupt. “More than my best friend’s little sister. More than the annoying girl who loves driving me insane. I care about you, Fin.”
She wets her lips. “Caring isn’t the issue, Griff…”
“You’re right. Because even if you won’t admit it, I think you care about me, too. I know I can’t guarantee love. I can’t guarantee forever. But I can guarantee that my feelings are real—have been real for a long fucking time—and they aren’t going anywhere.” I push her hair away from her face, letting my thumb skate across her cheek instead of pulling away like I’ve done so many times before.
“Damn.” Leaning into my touch, she peeks up at me. “You weren’t kidding about refusing to play into the whole miscommunication thing.”
“Smartass.” My mouth lifts. “I know the timing is shitty, but I want a chance. A real chance. With you and the baby and…”
Just say it.
“Iwantyou, Fin. Now, stop overthinking shit, and let me have you.” My mouth slams against hers again, not giving her a chance to respond. With my hands on her waist, I walk her backward toward the hall and into my room. She goes without protest. Once we’re over the threshold, I close the door and press her against it.