“Almost four years.”
Morbid curiosity gets the better of me. “What happened?”
“I travel too much for work.”
“How long ago did it end?”
He looks down at his plate, his eyes far away. “Long enough that I’m over her.”
“Is it still hard sometimes? Do you miss her?” I feel like I’m picking at a scab that might not be healed fully, but I can’t help the curiosity. Maybe because I’ve never given my heart to someone like he has, for such a long period of time, more than once. Maybe his heart is too bruised and battered to go another round, which is why I’m here. Safe. Available for only a short period of time. I’m not a risk to his heart, and he’s not a risk to mine.
“No. We weren’t right for each other. We were comfortable, and comfort was easier than acknowledging we shouldn’t be together. She was right to break it off.” He tosses his napkin on his plate. “And you? How long was your last relationship, and when did it end?”
“Two months. It ended when I came back to Vegas.” I finish my champagne. I’m tipsy since I’ve had two glasses.
“Well, I’m glad you came back to Vegas. You’re certainly the highlight of this trip.” He pushes his chair back. “Can I get you another drink?”
I have to assume that’s his way of ending this very personal conversation. When he returns, he not only has a fresh bottle of champagne, he also has a can of whipped cream, a plate of strawberries, and a bottle of chocolate syrup.
“I’m ready for dessert. Are you?”
“I thought there was ice cream. Aren’t we going to need bowls?”
A dark smile pulls up one side of his mouth. “I don’t think that will be necessary since I was planning to eat dessert off of you.”Chapter Nine: The Morning AfterCosy
Being Griffin’s dessert was an enlightening, orgasmic experience. One that resulted in the need for a shower, which led to more sex, and then a sleepover.
Griffin is a cuddler. Like a super hardcore, don’t - let - me - go - all - night kind of cuddler. I’ve never slept beside someone who literally wants to spoon the entire night. It’s kind of sweet. It’s also a little unnerving.
Since I don’t have any regular clothes to wear, we order room service for breakfast and eat it in bed. I have a shift at STW at noon, and Griffin offers to drive me to my place so I can grab a change of clothes and then take me to work. He’s happy to lend me a T-shirt, which is more like a dress on me, so I don’t have to put on my gross, sweaty one from yesterday, or wear a dress out of the hotel.
Just like yesterday, we take a special elevator to a special exit. His car is waiting when we step outside.
“When can I see you again?” he asks as he pulls into Sunday morning traffic.
“I have a late shift at STW tomorrow, and an evening seminar on Wednesday.”
“You’re free Tuesday?” He threads our fingers together.
“I am.”
“Can I take you out for dinner? You can stay at my place again, if you want.”
“Sure, but I’m only staying at your place on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We have an orgasm battle.”
He glances at me from the corner of his eyes. “That sounds fun. What exactly does an orgasm battle entail?”
“We see how many times we can get each other off.”
“I like this. Are there any rules or restrictions?”
“You can only use your own physical body.”
“Sounds reasonable. What’s the prize?”
“Whoever wins gets to pick what we do on our next date.”
“You know I’m going to win, right?”
“That’s what you think.” I glance out the window, hiding a smile. It doesn’t matter if I win or lose, it’s that he’s willing to play the game with me at all that I’m most excited about.
When we get to my apartment, I tell Griffin I’ll be back down in a few minutes.
He cuts the engine. “Or I could come up with you.”
“Uh, I guess that would be okay.”
“Unless you don’t want me to.” He looks almost hurt, which I don’t want.
“It’s not that. My sister is still crashing on my couch, and she’s not exactly what I’d call appropriate most of the time. I’m not sure if she’s home or not, but since it’s before noon, I’m going to say there’s a strong possibility she’s there. Let me shoot her a message so she knows I’m bringing you up with me. She still might not wear pants, though. She thinks they’re optional.”
“That’s . . . interesting.”
“She is definitely that.”
I message to let her know I’m coming up and that I have someone with me, so if she’s home, can she do me a favor and make sure she’s wearing some clothes?
She texts back a thumbs-up, which I hope means she’s dressed.