Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
What the hell?
He’s been on my mind non-stop since last weekend and here he is standing in front of me like a dream. My greedy eyes gobble him up, cataloging all the familiar things and all the ways he’s changed. He seems broader through the shoulders, taller even. The tight cords of muscle flex in his arms as he stands back to let me inside.
I slick my tongue over my bottom lip.
His hair is longer than when he left, curling slightly at the ends. He’s always worn his hair on the shorter side, but I kind of like it longer. More to run my fingers through.
No.
Not mine.
Never again.
I don’t even believe he cheated on me anymore.
I never should’ve believed it.
Now I feel so guilty I can’t even look him in the eyes.
“Griff? What are you doing here?” I drag my bag of laundry closer, but he slides by me and grabs it out of my hands.
“Uh, I live here now.” He hauls the bag inside, closes the door, and drops the bag at his feet. “Thought you knew that.”
He runs his hot gaze over me, and I back up a few steps. The weight of my backpack throws me off balance and I bump into the counter.
“I guess Remy mentioned it. I just didn’t…” Expect to find you shirtless in my kitchen.
He raises a cocky eyebrow and crosses the kitchen to lean on the opposite counter. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you doing here?” He pours thick white liquid from the blender into a tall cup but still somehow manages to keep his eyes on me.
“It’s my house.”
Ignoring my caustic tone, he flashes a tight smirk. “I thought you lived in the dorms now?”
“I do. But I still like to come home on the weekends.”
He takes a quick sip of his drink, still staring at me. I slide my backpack off my shoulders, setting it on the floor. My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my jeans pocket.
Torch: Are you home yet?
Guilt wraps its fingers around my throat. I can’t answer him now. I shove my phone back in my pocket.
“Don’t worry, princess.” Griff’s voice drips with uncharacteristic sarcasm. “I won’t get in the way if you want to have Torch over.”
If he hadn’t almost choked on Torch’s name, I’d be furious. Instead, embarrassment heats my skin. How’d he know that’s who texted me?
I lift my chin and glare at him. “Don’t worry. We’re supposed to go to the carnival this weekend. If I have him over after, we’ll stay in my room. Wouldn’t want to discourage the ring-bunny fan club I’m sure you’ll be inviting over now that you’re bro-mates with my brother.” I’m shaking so hard, I can’t even take pleasure in the fury lighting up his eyes.
“That’s it.” He slams his cup down, splashing protein shake all over the counter, and closes the distance between us.
I back up, almost tripping over my backpack. My butt bumps into the refrigerator door, rattling the big, old appliance in place.
“You know full fucking well I’d never do that to you.” He stares down at me, almost pinning me to the refrigerator but not quite touching me.
But I feel him everywhere.
No, no, no. Why is he so close? Why does he smell so good? And why isn’t he wearing a shirt?
“I do.” I stare at my sneakers, the only place that seems safe right now. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Molly, can we please talk? I didn’t—”
“I know,” I whisper.
“What?” He steps back, giving me space.
Stop being a coward. I lift my gaze and meet his concerned stare. “I watched that episode again.” I haven’t talked about it since last weekend with the girls, but I’d thought about it an awful lot this week.
“God, why?” He plows his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Why would you do that to yourself?”
“Because. After last weekend…I wanted to see it objectively.” I shrug, trying to figure out what to say. I don’t want to tell him Torch is the one who planted the first seed of doubt. “Or try to. I watched it without the sound on.” I wave my hand around my head. “Without all the other noise polluting everything. I don’t know. I don’t think it was you anymore.”
“Thank God.” He sighs.
“Griff, I should’ve known. I feel terrible—”
“I don’t want you to feel bad, Molly.”
“But,” I mumble.
“I watched it with your brother when I came home. And it was weird as hell for me to see. I get it. I’m not mad at you,” he adds in a gentler voice.
Why does that make me feel even worse? “You should be.” I didn’t believe you and I destroyed our beautiful car.
“I could never be mad at you.” He holds out his arms to embrace me, as if everything is solved now.