He stopped, frozen in his tracks, looking at me with an intensity I didn’t quite understand. I could see the doubts raging in the back of his mind as he considered my plea, and I couldn’t help but wonder what made him hesitate. There was so much about him that I didn’t know, but I knew how he made me feel. A sense of security washed over me whenever he was near, giving me a feeling of peace that I hadn’t felt in years. I trusted him. I truly did, and believe me, my trust wasn’t something that was earned easily or given lightly. I knew Griffin was different. Right from the very beginning. That first time I met him in the diner, I just knew – I knew that he was different. He sat there in his leather jacket and with all of those tattoos talking to my son, who was looking at him with pure wonder in his eyes, and then he turned and looked at me. Suddenly, I saw past the biker – straight to the man, and like a magnet I felt a pull to him that I could not comprehend. In my gut, in my heart, I was certain that he was someone that I wanted to know. Every self-preserving instinct I had (and trust me, those instincts were finely honed) screamed that he was going to be someone important in our lives.
In just a few weeks, he’d taken my world by storm, making me feel things I never dreamed and as much as it scared me, I wanted it. I wanted him. So while I was apprehensive, it wasn’t him I feared, it was the idea of a relationship that scared me. But the things I felt when I was with him weren’t feelings I could ignore. Whatever was happening between us, it was something I wanted – no, I needed – to explore.
“Griffin,” I urged, as I took the covers and pulled them back, inviting him to come lay next to me.
Without any further delay, he took his phone out of his pocket and kicked off his boots. His fingers dropped to the buttons of his jeans, and I watched with what I was sure were lustful eyes, as they fell to the floor. Leaving him with just a pair of form fitting boxers and his t-shirt. I nearly groaned out loud at the image he painted; he was beautiful. He was built the way a man ought to be built… tall, muscular, broad shoulders… my god. Just looking at him made me feel alive. It’d been a while, a good long while since I’d enjoyed – actually enjoyed, the company of a man, and when he started walking towards me I got hot all over. He quietly settled on the bed next to me, and laid his head down on the pillow.
I rolled to my side and with my face just inches from his, I whispered, “See… that wasn’t so hard.”
“Only one thing hard about getting in this bed with you,” he whispered with a faint growl. “Not sure I’ll be able to restrain myself.”
I leaned in closer to him, briefly pressing my lips to his. “You never have to restrain yourself with me.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do. I trust you.”
“It’s not that easy, Wren. Never been a gentle man. Never known… gentle.”
I placed the palm of my hand against his chest and said, “Beneath that hard exterior lies a man with a good heart, one that fights for what is right and true. There is gentle in you, Griffin. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.”
“I’ve spent all these weeks watching you, seeing that you are everything I’m not. Good. Decent. Loving. I’m none of those things and I will tarnish you with my touch. I’ve tried to fight it. Tried to protect you from me, from the darkness inside of me, but your pull is too strong, Wren. I want you too damn much.”
“Don’t fight it,” I said.