I blinked my eyes open and tried to move, but I couldn’t. Strong arms held me so tightly that there would be no escape until they loosened. I looked up at Griff. He had me hard up against his body with my head on his chest. His arm was around my shoulders and his hand gripped me firmly to hold me in place. It was still dark, but I couldn’t be sure of the time because he didn’t have a clock in his bedroom. This room was another sparsely furnished room – a bed, bedside tables, a chest of drawers and a chair in the corner. From what I’d seen of his house so far, it spoke of a man who didn’t put down roots. There were no family photos, no personal touches, and the tired feel to the carpet, paint and everything in between gave me a sense of someone who didn’t get attached.
He shifted and even though he hadn’t moved much, it was enough for me to wiggle out of his hold so I could go to the bathroom. However, the second I tried to move, his arm tightened around me again, and his eyes opened. Our gazes met, and he murmured, “You going somewhere, sweetheart?”
He doesn’t want me to leave.
That knowledge made its way into my heart and settled there. It was the first time he’d given me something like that.
I smiled. “Just gotta go to the bathroom, handsome.”
He didn’t loosen his hold on me straight away. Rather, he continued to watch me in that intense way he often did, like he was working stuff out in his mind. Eventually, he nodded and let me go. He didn’t say anything, though – still my man of few words.
I took my time in the bathroom, because, heck, I looked a sight. My hair sat on my head like a crazy bird’s nest, my mascara sat clumped on my lashes and face where it had been wiped from my eyelashes during sleep, and my face looked all puffy and washed out. I had no tools to work with here, but I did my best to tidy up my hair and face. I also used Griff’s toothpaste to freshen up my breath. No one needed morning breath after amazing sex.
When I finally made it back to his bedroom, I found him sitting in his bed waiting for me. His eyes tracked my movements as I went to him, and, good God, that made a woman feel good. When I crawled onto the bed, his arms reached for me and pulled me onto his lap so I sat straddling him with my face to his. My belly fluttered and my heart danced a little. This Griff was a man I could get used to.
“Morning,” he said, his eyes firmly on mine. I loved that, because while a man’s eyes on your body felt good, his eyes seeking yours – seeking your attention in the way Griff was now seeking mine – made you feel special. And I would take special over good any day of the week.
“Morning.”
He raised his brows. “That’s all you’ve got, baby? I thought for sure you’d have a lot more than that to say this morning.”
“Smart-ass,” I said with a smile. “I’m regrouping.”
He chuckled. “How long does that usually take you?”
I tilted my head. “You know, just quietly, I’m liking this sense of humour thing you’ve got going on. I would so not have picked it from you, but that’s one of the things I like about you the most – I never know what’s coming next. And while we’re talking, can I just say – I don’t know where you keep your comb or your brush, but you seriously need to consider keeping it in the bathroom, because when a woman looks how I looked when I woke up this morning, she needs something to fix her hair with, and while my fingers did the trick this morning, they didn’t really cut it, if you know what I mean. This hair would look so much better if I could have run a brush through it.”
He glanced at my hair for a second and then his eyes found mine again. “I see the regrouping has taken place,” he murmured, his voice deeper, more gravelly than before.
“Well, I’m not sure about that, but the thing about the brush needed to be said.”
“I’ll take it under advisement, sweetheart. I’ve never had an issue like this before…never had a woman wake up next to me in this bed.”
Oh. My.
His words caused me to falter. More regrouping would need to take place now.
He watched me, waiting for me to reply, and when I didn’t, he added, “And for the record, there was no need to run your fingers through your hair. Bedhead suits you.”
God, he was killing me this morning. My heart almost swelled out of my chest with happiness.
His phone sounded with a text, and while he kept one hand firmly on my back, he reached for his phone with the other. I watched his beautiful face while he read the message, taking in the lines across his forehead that etched his thoughts onto his face, and the stubble he always wore, and those green eyes of his that held all his pain. Griff’s was a face I could study for hours. I watched it now as he processed the message, and I knew that whatever that text contained, it hadn’t been good news for him. Not if the way the lines and twitches on his face were anything to go by.
He placed his phone back on the bedside table and eyed me. “You working today?” And just like that, he seemed to compartmentalise the parts of his life. It was as if he’d swept aside whatever he’d just read so he could focus on me, not even allowing his emotions about the text message to touch his mind.
“Yes, unfortunately.” I decided not to acknowledge the text or his feelings on it. I figured Griff was a man of so many layers, and it was going to take me awhile to peel each layer back. I also figured he wasn’t the kind of man who would let a woman rush that process, so I was going to have to be patient.