Making Up Page 7

  “Touch me somewhere good,” I order.

  Now, I’ve never been demanding when it comes to anything sexual. In fact, usually I’m on the shy side. Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s the fact that he flew me out here into one of the wonders of the world as a freaking surprise, so I’d like to make this a highly memorable event.

  “Please, Griffin.” The politeness is a complete afterthought.

  He squeezes my thighs. “And where would somewhere good be, Cosy?”

  “Your hands are already in the general vicinity of good.” I spread my legs as wide as I can, to be helpful.

  Griffin’s volatile, hot gaze dips down, and he slides his fingers closer to the hem of my shorts. I can see my panties through the gap, on both sides, so I assume his view is even better than mine.

  His lips brush over mine. “These shorts are obscene.”

  “Everyone wears them,” I argue, even though they’re ridiculously short.

  “Everyone under twenty-five.”

  “Awesome. That means I can wear them for another three years.”

  He slips all four fingers under the hem until they come out the other side—through one leg hole to the other. There isn’t much fabric, considering how short they are.

  Sadly, he doesn’t go under my panties as well. He curls his fingers, making a fist, and his knuckles press against sensitive skin. “These could almost be underwear.”

  “Denim underwear would be uncomfortable.” I’m all breathy and needy-sounding. “Let’s talk about my shorts later.” I try to pull his mouth to mine. He lets me get within an inch of his lips before he jerks his head back.

  “I think we should talk about them now.” He shifts his grip on the crotch of my shorts—he’s still fisting them—putting pressure right where I want it.

  “You know what I think?”

  “What’s that?” His gaze keeps bouncing between my face and where he’s holding onto my shorts. It’s so hot. And the way he keeps subtly shifting his hand means he keeps rubbing over my orgasm button.

  “I think you should make this a memorable experience for both of us by making me come on this picnic table instead of getting on me about how short my short shorts are.”

  “Do you, now?” Griffin smirks, but keeps up with subtle movement.

  I don’t know if it’s the environment, the possibility of getting caught, or that we’re out in the open and I’m fully dressed with his hand sort of where I want it, but this is probably the hottest foreplay I’ve ever had. “When else will I have the opportunity to have an orgasm in the Grand Canyon? I can even give you one at the same time.” I glance down to where his erection pushes against his fly. I reach for his belt, but Griffin shakes his head.

  “It’s an alluring offer, but I don’t want the distraction. I like my focus right where it is.”

  My eyes roll up at the next grazing of his knuckles, still over my damn panties. I went out and bought new ones for this date, which isn’t something I typically do. They’re white satin with lace accents—definitely not my usual, but they seemed fitting considering my potential plan for tonight. “This would probably work a lot better if there was some skin-to-skin contact.”

  “Probably, but I bet I can make you come just like this.”

  It’s pretty hard to argue with the way everything is tightening below the waist. That familiar warm feeling drags through my limbs, weighing me down and making me feel like I’m floating at the same time. A spiral of sensation unfurls low in my belly, expanding outward, a slow storm gaining momentum. I roll my hips, no longer worried about the direct contact I want but am not going to get for whatever reason. Instead, I chase down the storm and let it slam into me.

  Griffin’s mouth covers mine when I groan, because he’s right, he can make me come without direct skin-to-skin contact. Which is freaking magical and totally unexpected. I’m right in the middle of the craziest, most public orgasm I’ve ever had, desperately trying not to make any noise because who knows how far away the pilot is, when Griffin tears his mouth from mine. And suddenly the pressure between my thighs disappears.

  I make this horrible, loud, whiny sound and claw at the back of his neck, half delirious because I’m still coming and now there’s nothing to rub up on. I’m about to protest the lack of fairness, especially when Griffin releases the crotch of my shorts, but he pushes my panties to the side and grazes my clit with his thumb. It’s featherlight, the barest of touches. It definitely shouldn’t be enough to carry the orgasm through, but somehow it does.

  Another wave of sensation hits, slamming into me with a force that in no way matches how Griffin is touching me. Those barely there caresses between my thighs are responsible for the best orgasm I’ve ever had at the hands of someone other than myself.

  It also doesn’t hurt that Griffin is damn well stunning as he stands between my legs, eyes locked on my face and not where he’s touching me, looking intense and ridiculously satisfied despite the fact that I’m the one who’s had an orgasm. In the Grand Canyon.

  It wasn’t a bucket-list item, but it’s definitely one I can tick off now that it’s happened.

  Griffin carefully shifts my panties back into place and brings his thumb to his lips. He licks the pad with a smile. “How was that for memorable?”

  I laugh, embarrassed and still totally turned on. “Very.” I retract my nails from his neck. “The Grand Canyon will forever be synonymous with Griffin and orgasms.”

  “Good.” Griffin leans in to kiss me, and I taste my desire on his tongue. It’s weirdly hot.

  Sadly, he pulls back after a few seconds and holds out a hand. “Come on, let’s explore more than my ability to make you come before Vern gets back.”

  My cheeks heat, and he smirks. But I allow him to lace our fingers. I’m still orgasm woozy, although I think the effects of the champagne have mostly worn off. We walk along a short trail that ends at a cliff with a stunning view. We’re fairly deep in the canyon, but the drop is still steep, so I crowd Griffin’s space and crane to look over the edge.

  “This is pretty incredible, isn’t it?” I murmur.

  “It really is. I didn’t think I’d be this impressed, but maybe the company has an impact on that.”

  “You’ve never been in the Grand Canyon before?” I’m surprised to hear that since he’s been so many places.

  “Nope. This is a first. I’m sure you’ve been down here a million times, huh?”

  I tip my head up, adjusting my sunglasses down so the sun isn’t blinding me. “Actually, this is my first time too.”

  He gives me a curious smile. “You grew up here, and you’ve never visited the Grand Canyon?”

  “It’s touristy and I’m a local. I didn’t see the point in spending money on something that was in my backyard, if that makes sense.”

  “I can understand that. I’ve lived in New York City my entire life, and I’ve never been to the top of the Empire State Building.”

  “I’m not sure it’s quite as impressive as this.”

  Griffin glances at the walls of rock towering above us. “Not really, no. But if someone told me I’d find you at the top, I might’ve had more incentive to visit that particular tourist attraction.” He tugs my hand and leads me over to a shady spot.

  Griffin pulls me down to sit between his legs. His lips brush along my neck when he asks, “What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been to?”

  “Mmm. That’s tough. I love California, probably because it’s on the ocean, and Colorado because it has the mountains. What about you?”

  “Right now, as of this minute? Here.”

  I elbow him in the side. “Don’t be a cheeseball.”

  I feel his lips turn up against my skin. “Nothing beats making a gorgeous woman come in one of the seven wonders of the world.”

  I roll my eyes and my cheeks warm. I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe I asked him to. “Okay fine, aside from making me come in the Grand Canyon, what’s the coolest place
you’ve been?”

  “Probably Greece. The architecture and the mountains are stunning. I think you’d love it, especially Meteora.”

  “There are monasteries built on the top of mountains, aren’t there?”

  “There are.” He rests his cheek on my shoulder. “I’d go back in a heartbeat.”

  “You can pack me in your suitcase.”

  “You’d be fun to travel with, I bet.”

  “I don’t know about that. I don’t usually go with much of a plan. I find a place I want to visit and drive until I get there. Sometimes I sleep in my car at rest stops and don’t shower for days at a time.”

  “That actually sounds pretty fantastic. Well, apart from the lack of showers and sleeping in your car. That part sounds dangerous.”

  “The lack of showers wards off the creeps, and I have pepper spray in the glove compartment, although right now my car needs some work after the last road trip, so it’s off the road for a bit. Anyway, I also took self-defense classes when I was eighteen, so I can put a three-hundred-pound man in a chokehold if I need to.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No, but my parents made me take karate when I was a kid, so I can throat kick someone if required.”

  “Hmm. Well, if we went on a road trip together, I’d ruin all the spontaneity by finding campgrounds or hotels to stay at. And we’d stop at every touristy spot on the way to wherever so we could take a million pictures and post them on social media to make everyone wish they were half as adventurous as us.”

  “Are you always a planner?”

  “I sort of have to be.”

  “Not having a plan is kind of freeing, though, you know? If you’re not constrained by things like hotel reservations, you can do what you want when you want, and there aren’t any disappointments.”

  “We should do that, take a road trip before I have to go back to New York,” Griffin says.

  My heart stutters at the idea, and the reminder that his time here is limited. All the more reason to make the most of it, I guess. “We should.”

  Buzzing comes from Griffin’s pocket. He pulls out his phone and silences the alarm. “We need to head back before Vern leaves us here for the night.”

  I stand and brush the red dust off my butt while Griffin does the same. “We should get a picture first.” He pulls out his phone and puts it on selfie mode. He’s all thumbs, though, so he holds the phone steady and I hit the button, taking at least forty pictures, half of them of the top of our heads since selfies don’t seem to be Griffin’s strong suit. We manage to get a few good ones, me tucked into his side, the Canyon rising behind us, and his eyes on me instead of the camera.

  The look on his face should be a red flag. As should the look on mine. But we’re both going in separate directions eventually, so I ignore how bright my eyes are and how wide my smile is.

  On the helicopter ride back, Griffin sits in the middle and I take the outside. I think he didn’t like how interested the pilot seemed in whatever I was saying, which was a whole lot of “Ooohh that’s so cool!” and “Oh! Check that out!”

  I thread my arm through his and rest my cheek on his bicep as the pilot tells us all about the scenery on the way back. I can feel Griffin’s eyes on me, and I glance over to find him smiling. “What?”

  He presses his lips to my temple. “I love your enthusiasm for life.”

  “And I love your surprises.” Yup, I’m definitely in the feels danger zone, but for some reason, I don’t experience my usual compulsion to run in the other direction. Maybe it’s because I know this can’t actually go anywhere, and he’s not looking for a relationship, just someone to hang out with while he’s in Vegas.

  “Will I have time to freshen up before dinner?” I ask as we pull back onto the freeway, heading toward the Strip.

  As amazing as the trip into the Canyon was, I’m a sweaty, sticky mess after hanging out in the middle of a desert fishbowl with the sun beating down on me for several hours. At the very least, I need a bathroom and a pile of wet wipes. And new underwear. Thankfully, I brought a backup pair to go with my dress for outfit number two.

  “Dinner reservations aren’t until eight thirty. We’ll have plenty of time.” He reaches across the center console and squeezes my thigh. It sends a jolt of heat firing through me. “If you’re okay with it, we could go back to my place and you could freshen up there.”

  My stomach does a flip at the thought of being in a place where there are no eyes on us. And a bed. And actual privacy.

  “Or I can take you back to your place if that would be better.”

  “Oh no! Your place is fine.”

  “Great. I was hoping you would say yes. I have something for you.” He smiles and moves his hand back to the gearshift. “I could probably use a shower before dinner.”

  The image of Griffin naked in the shower flickers through my mind, and I cross my legs. I might only know what he looks like fully dressed, but based on the way he fills out his shirts and the ridges I can see through the cotton, I’m pretty damn sure he looks amazing when he’s shirtless, and even better naked.

  As we drive down the Strip, my mouth goes dry and I settle my palms on my knees so I’m not tempted to fidget too much. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so nervous. Okay, maybe I do know. I have a plan for tonight, and it looks like I may be executing it before dinner rather than after. Seducing a man is nerve-wracking business, and I don’t think I’m adequately prepared for this. Not that I’m planning to back out. I just need a strategy.

  As I’m considering all the ways in which I can approach this—such as coming out of the bathroom in nothing but my bra and panties after I freshen up—Griffin turns off the Strip into hotel parking. We’re at the Commodore, one of the older, but still very exclusive, hotels on the Strip.

  He pulls up to the valet, then hits the unlock button so an attendant can open my door. Griffin retrieves my bag from the back and threads his fingers through mine. We don’t use the main entrance of the hotel, though. Instead, one of the attendants opens a private door into a foyer with a single elevator. He must work for one hell of an awesome company to have access to such nice accomodations.

  My mouth feels like the desert as he swipes a card and the doors slide open. This is really happening. I’m going to sleep with this man. Probably soon. I follow him inside, and he hits the PH button.

  “You okay? You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.” Griffin brushes my cheek with a gentle finger.

  “What? Oh, I’m fine.” It comes out a couple of octaves too high.

  He leans against the mirrored wall and regards me with something between concern and amusement. “Are you nervous, Cosy?”

  “No!” And I say that way too fast for it to be even remotely true.

  “Hey.” He tucks a single finger under my chin, urging me to look at him. “I’ve had an amazing day with you and I don’t want it to end, but I also don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in any way. You run this show, Cosy. I follow your lead.”

  He’s so perfect and gentlemanly. And also seriously hot and in control when he’s making me come. Which is something I want him to do again. I exhale a shuddery breath. “Okay.”

  The elevator doors slide open. He doesn’t make a move to get off, though. Instead, he reaches out and presses the open door button. “We don’t have to go to my place.”

  “I know. I want to.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I link my fingers with his and step out of the elevator, pulling him along with me. It’s go time.

  Chapter Six: And the Surprise of the Night Goes To . . .

  Griffin

  I exhale a relieved breath as Cosy steps into the hall. Everything about today has been perfect, up to the moment she stepped into the elevator and went cagey. It was a stark reminder how much younger than me she truly is.

  Most of the time I try not to let the age gap be a thing, although occasionally her choice of attire makes the generational differen
ce hard to ignore.

  Like her shorts today. I tried to behave myself, but then she drank that champagne and sat in my lap and just . . . how the hell could I resist? Why would I even want to is probably a better question.

  I assume since she’s in college, she’s done her fair share of dating, so I’m not sure why she’s suddenly nervous and adorably shy. I don’t want her to feel like there are expectations, so I’ve been taking it pretty slow, waiting until now to invite her back here. I’ve also seen the building she lives in. It could be worse, but it sure could be a hell of a lot better, and my penthouse here is flashier than I like. I don’t want my financial situation to be another glaring difference that makes her question this. Although I suppose a private helicopter tour wasn’t exactly a cheap date.

  I pass my keycard over the sensor and open the door, ushering her inside.

  She comes to a halt three steps in, and I nearly slam into her. “Holy hell, Griffin. This is . . . not a normal hotel room.”

  “Uh, no, it’s a suite.”

  “It’s like a really, really nice apartment. Like the nicest apartment I’ve ever been in.” She wanders around the living room, running her fingers along the arm of the couch. She peeks her head in the bedroom and moves on quickly, a flush creeping up her neck.

  She stops at the kitchen and does some kind of swoony thing. “You have a freaking wall oven!” She opens the cupboards and drawers. “And plates and silverware.”

  “It’s not very comfortable living out of a bar fridge.”

  “Do you ever cook?”

  “Occasionally. I have a lot of business dinners, though, and cooking for one often seems pointless.”

  “If I had a kitchen like this, I’d cook all the time. I’d throw a damn dinner party.”

  I slip a hand into my pocket and lean against the doorjamb. “Feel free to come by any time and throw me a dinner party.”

  I grin when she tosses a dirty look over her shoulder. “I need to check out the bathroom.” She flits past me, long legs carrying her across the room. Maybe inviting her here wasn’t the best idea. Because now that she is, all I can think about is how much I’d like to get her out of those too-short shorts and pick up right where we left off on that picnic table. After a shower, of course.