Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Is Griff using body wash or a plain bar of soap?
I couldn’t get naked in front of him, could I? No. He’d probably laugh in my face, throw a towel at me, and tell me to cover myself.
A tap on my shoulder startles me so hard, I jump, throwing little yellowing packets of Band-Aids everywhere.
I’ve been so lost in figuring out the mechanics of soaping up my brother’s best friend, I never heard the shower stop.
“What’d you scare me for?” I scoop the scattered Band-Aids out of the sink.
He’s wearing a lopsided grin and not much else. Nothing but a thin red towel wrapped around his hips hides his skin from my curious eyes.
I’ve been witness to Griff shirtless plenty of times, but this whole-body tingling reaction is a new development.
I’ve known him since I was little. What feels like my whole life, really. He’s my favorite person in the world besides my brother.
He’s also a man now. Nothing like the boys I go to school with. He’s cut and muscled in all the right places. Ruthless perfection honed from years of fighting, hard work, and pure survival.
The innocent crush on him I’ve nursed since kindergarten flipped to inappropriate a few years ago. Unfortunately, he still only sees me as a little sister. Probably always will.
This attraction is plain cruel. Even if he wanted me, I couldn’t have him. He’d never do anything to piss off my brother. And Remy’s made it clear many, many times his friends aren’t allowed to date me.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Griff says, and I cringe. Was it obvious that I was checking out his body? “What were you thinking about?”
“N-nothing,” I stammer. My traitorous cheeks heat, blushing hard enough to advertise exactly what smutty daydreams were dancing around in my head.
He squints, studying my face. “You sure you didn’t take a hit to the head tonight?”
“No.” I wave my hand at him. “Come here so I can fix your cut.”
He steps closer to the small sink in the corner where I set out cotton pads and antiseptic liquid. Gently, I dab the cotton over his wound. A small hiss escapes him.
“Sorry,” I whisper, hating that I’m hurting him even a little.
“It’s okay.” His low voice flows over my skin leaving goose bumps in its wake. I smooth some antibiotic ointment over the cut and seal it with a small Band-Aid. “All better. I think the bruise you’re going to end up with will be worse than the cut.”
“Won’t be the first.” He squints at me, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Or the last, I’m sure.”
I can’t laugh. Not when I hate that he loves risking bodily harm in these stupid underground fights all the time. My brother, too. And if it’s not fighting, it’s riding motorcycles or racing cars. It’s like the two of them are bonded by a common death wish. Fear vibrates at a low, constant hum in the back of my mind that one of these days one of them will get seriously hurt.
Maybe sensing the change in my mood, Griff curls his hand around mine and playfully swings it side to side. “Thank you, Nurse Molly.”
His gaze travels down my body. Mine takes the opportunity to do the same to him again.
I suck in a quick breath. “Oh.” It’s even harder to tear my gaze away this time, but I do.
“I’ll, uh, let you get dressed,” I mumble. It’s a big room. Maybe there’s a locker I can shut myself inside of to hide from all these weird tingly feelings.
“Wait.” He reaches out, wrapping his hand around my arm. “Sit here.” Leaning sideways, he swipes his clothes off the bench. “I’ll be right back.”
As I lower myself to the bench, my arm brushes against his stomach. His warm, flat, hard stomach. My hand whispers over the knot in his towel. So close. I could easily flick it open. My finger twitches against the terry cloth.
Why’d I do that?
My face flames even hotter.
Griff grabs my rogue hand and our eyes meet.
“S-sorry,” I mumble, too embarrassed to hold his gaze.
“What are you doing, Muffin?” His low voice prickles over my skin.
Oh, I love when he calls me that.
“I didn’t mean to,” I lie. “It was an accident.”
He groans.
“What?” My eyes snap to his.
“Nothing.”
His mouth says nothing, but his eyes tell a different story, staring at me with an intensity that sets my entire body humming. His clothes fall to the floor in a whispered rustle. He curves his arm around my waist and presses his hand into the small of my back, pushing me forward against his hard body.
Holy…wow…oh my. What’s happening?
My heart races. He stares into my eyes for a few seconds, like he’s fascinated or surprised. He dips in closer, his fresh, soapy scent surrounding me. I stare at his mouth, his lips that look soft and kissable up close. Wait, why is he so close? He leans in and dusts a gentle kiss across my lips. Sparks dance and race over my skin.