Here With You (A Laurel Heights Novel)

chapter Thirteen



Nicole saw the kiss coming and did nothing to stop it.

She didn't want to.

She didn't want to think about it either. She closed her eyes and just felt.

It felt wonderful.

They stopped swaying to the music despite the people gyrating around them, bumping into them. The noise of the room faded until the only thing she heard was the beat of her heart heavy in her head. Nothing else existed—just Grif and the touch of his lips.

His arm snaked around her waist, anchoring her to him, while his other hand cupped her face, his fingers trailing over her as if he was trying to memorize her.

She pressed herself closer, feeling him hard and insistent between them.

She'd dreamt of kissing him again. She'd spent hours thinking about it, imagining it—praying for it, if she were being honest.

The reality of the kiss now was nothing like she'd imagined.

His fingers slipped into her hair, massaging the base of her skull so she felt like purring. She pressed closer—she needed to be closer.

He kissed across her cheek, to her jaw, and then whispered in her ear. "Unless you want to be on the front page of People Magazine tomorrow we should take this party someplace more private."

More private. She shivered, knowing what he was suggesting, knowing he was asking for her consent. "And then what?" she said.

He gazed at her soberly. "Whatever you want, Nicole."

That was the problem: she wasn't sure what she wanted, though at the moment she was pretty sure it involved more of his talented mouth on various parts of her body.

Grif rubbed his thumb along her jaw. "Doubts?"

He knew her too well. "Yes."

"We're not eighteen, Nic." He brushed her hair aside. "We're going into this with our eyes open, right?"

Her eyes may be wide open, but she wasn't sure what she was seeing. "We're crossing a dangerous line, and we won't be able to go back. What if sex sucks?"

Smiling slowly, he touched the corner of her mouth. "If our kisses are any indication, sex might kill us but it definitely won't suck."

"True." She nodded. "Get me out of here."

"Let's go."

The car was waiting for them outside. The driver hopped out to open the door for them, and they slid in.

Grif turned to her. "Where should we go?"

She almost said her place, because they were both staying there after all, but then she thought about the logistics. Susan was there, and did she really want a strange man in her bed?

Well, granted, it was Grif, not a strange man. But she'd never brought any man home. She'd never had sex with anyone in her bed, not even the guys she dated. It seemed so personal and, frankly, she never stuck with them for very long. So she said, "Hotel."

He didn't bat a lash. "Which one?"

Was it odd that he didn't question her choice? "Any hotel. Pick one."

He pulled out his phone. In a few seconds, he motioned to the driver. "The Four Seasons."

It was only a few blocks away, on Market Street, so they were there in minutes. She looked out at the subtle placard on the hotel's entrance as a doorman opened her door for them. Fancy. She shrugged. If you were going to have an affair, why not the Four Seasons?

Grif took her hand and led her inside. Nicole knew she should have felt mortified at checking in at a hotel—a really nice hotel—after midnight, with a well-recognized celebrity no less. But she was more excited than anything. This was romantic in a big way. No guy had ever done this for her.

No guy had ever treated her the way Grif did. Flowers. Singing to her. Kissing her so amazingly. Yes, she knew he wanted something from her, but he knew he had her help. Bribery wasn't necessary.

Except she knew deep down in her heart, he wasn't trying to bribe her. Griffin Chase didn't need to resort to bribery. He'd never done anything he hadn't felt compelled to do.

Slipping his sunglasses on and making sure his cap was firmly on his head, Grif stopped at the front desk and smiled at the woman sitting there. "I'd like to check into a room, please."

The woman melted under his smile, of course, although based on the fact that she hadn't started drooling, she obviously hadn't see beyond his disguise. "Do you have a reservation, Mr...?"

"Gallagher. Roddy Gallagher." He pulled out an American Express card out of his wallet.

As he handed it over, Nicole glanced at the name. Sure enough, it had the fake name Grif used. She arched her brows at him.

He squeezed her hand and focused his charm on the woman.

Who batted her eyes shamelessly. "Thank you, Mr. Gallagher. For how many nights?"

"One night," he replied as though he showed up in hotels after midnight with a woman in tow all the time.

Nicole didn't like that thought.

Was this a bad idea? Maybe she shouldn't be there.

But even as she had the thought, she knew there was no question that she was going to go through with this. She wasn't promiscuous, always taking care in picking who she ended up with, and this was happening way faster than normal. But it felt inevitable. Right.

And, if she were honest, she really wanted Grif.

Thanking the receptionist, he turned to Nicole. "Ready?"

Any more ready, and she'd be naked right there in the lobby. But to reassure herself that she was doing the right thing, she got up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

The contact zapped her even though she'd meant it to be light. This was why they were in the Four Seasons, taking such a big chance with their friendship. This crazy electric thing between them.

He hummed, his hand gripping her hair. "It's not too late to back out."

She thought about the kiss and remembered being draped across his body early that one morning. She'd be out of her mind to back down now. Marley would never forgive her.

So she did the only logical thing: she pressed herself against him and kissed him again with all the nervous eagerness in her body.

He groaned with a hunger that excited her, catching her up in his arms. "It's going to be great, Nic," he murmured against her mouth.

Yes. Nodding, she led him to the elevator.

When they reached their floor, instead of leading her to their room, he surprised her by lifting her into his arms and carrying her. Without releasing her, he opened the door and headed straight to the bed, lowering her and following directly on top of her.

She sighed, loving the weight of his body on her. She tugged his shirt up and touched his naked back, hooking her legs in the crook of his knees to keep him close.

Leaning on one arm, he pushed up all her layers—coat and shirt—until his hand cupped her breast over her bra. His fingers teased her nipple to standing through the thin lace, rolling and massaging until she was writhing under him.

"Grif," she gasped, trying to get closer to him.

"Yes?" He nibbled on her collarbone.

"I need more."

"I can give you more." He sat up, undid her pants, and pulled them and her underwear down. Then he dumped condoms out from his pocket and unbuttoned his jeans.

She stared at the condoms littering the bed. "Planning ahead?"

"It's called hope." He pulled his erection out and covered it in one of the rubbers.

Nicole wanted to tell him she had a clean bill of health and was on the pill, but maybe this was better. It was a symbolic barrier—a reminder not to get too close.

Grif worked her coat and top off and then slid his finger under the strap of her exposed bra. "I'm torn between asking you to model this for me and tearing it off you."

"That's a dilemma."

"I'm not sure I can last through a show. Can I get a rain-check? For next time?"

"There's going to be a next time?"

"I know I'm jumping the gun, but based on the events so far, I'm willing to bet that we'll want a next time. Maybe you'll even model something you've designed yourself."

She stilled. "What?"

He had the grace to look abashed. "I may have snooped. But before you get bent out of shape, your lingerie designs are incredible. I especially like the sheer black one."

"You weren't supposed to look," she said weakly as she blushed. She'd designed that black one with him in mind.

"I know, but I'm happy I did. It gives me something to look forward to for the next time."

His praise caused a rush of delight followed immediately by uneasiness. She hid her feelings behind a sassy smile and ran her hands along his chest. "Bold, making promises for the next time when you haven't delivered this time."

"Are you worried I won't deliver?"

Arching up, she said, "Well, you have been all talk so far."

"And I'm not meeting your needs. I'll have to rectify that." He lowered his head and kissed her.

Blazing hot, it stole her breath. She arched up into it, giving him space to reach around her to unhook her bra. He swept it away and, kissing his way down the center of her body, to take the tips of her breasts in his mouth, one at a time, before working his way down.

Before she could catch her breath, he pressed his next kiss right between her legs.

She gasped in surprise, and then he licked into her and she gasped in pleasure. She gripped his hair as he did it again—and again. Her head swam, and she gripped the bed covers to anchor herself.

He loved her with his mouth, like he couldn't get enough of her. Like she was the most delicious chocolate dessert and he wanted to lap up every last bite.

Out of nowhere, her climax hit her, making her shout out, her thighs tensing around his head. She was about to tell him to stop when he slid back up and pushed into her.

He gazed into her eyes, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Then he smiled, kissed her, and she felt so right.

He rolled his hips into her, and sharp jabs of electric shock zipped through her. She gasped, grabbing his arms, about to tell him it was too intense, that she was going to die, when she suddenly came again.

He slowed down, long, hard strokes deep inside her, the column of his neck taut. He thrust into her one more time, tensing, crying out her name as he came, too.

Instead of crushing her with his weight, he rolled onto his back, pulling her over him.

She began to sit up, to get off, but he held her in place. Feeling him stir inside her, she looked at him, a flare of desire miraculously lighting her up all over again. "Again?"

"Yes." He pulled her on top, urging her to ride him.

"I need your cowboy hat," she said, propping herself up.

His fingers tightened on her and he pulsed inside her, obviously liking the thought. "That can be arranged."

"Is there anything you can't arrange?"

"For you?" He shook his head, his smile sweet. "Even the moon, Nicole."

Her heart flopped, but she shook it off. Tonight was only about pleasure—about Happily Right Now. Happily Ever After didn't happen with a man like Griffin Chase, no matter how much you wanted it.