Griff smiles a lot. When I try to scoot past him to line up for a shot, he’ll move out of the way just enough so he has to touch my hip or my arm as I move by. There’s a tiny thrill each time it happens.
And there’s laughter.
I’ve had so little to laugh about for so long—because, let’s face it, prison isn’t a happy place—that my face actually starts to hurt. But Griff is funny and self-deprecating, and I’m hopelessly drawn to him as the night wears on and the beers keep coming.
Another couple saunters over and asks if we want to play doubles, and Griff and I agree. They’re not local, just visiting some family and out for a night of fun away from the kids. We have a great time with laughter and more beers. At some point, I end up leaning into Griff and his hand comes around my waist as we watch our opponent take a shot on the pool table. I feel protected. Despite the fact it’s not an overly intimate touch, I feel desired.
I can feel it radiate from him, which makes Dozer’s words reverberate through my head about how I should go for it.
Around eleven, the other couple leaves and Griff and I finish our last beer.
“Listen,” he says, taking my hand. His green eyes are mesmerizing. “I’ve had way too much alcohol to drive you home. I’ll pay for a cab for you.”
My head tilts in question. “What will you do?”
“I live within walking distance. Just a few blocks from here.”
“Hmmm,” I murmur, glancing at the pool table. I’m sad our evening is ending because this has all felt new and magical. I never thought I’d have this again in my life.
“Or…” Griff says, which causes me to snap my head his way, my eyes locking on him. My pulse speeds up. “You could come to my place. I’ll make us some coffee.”
“I’m not ready to have sex with you,” I blurt out, but then immediately cringe. “Oh, my God… I have no clue why I just said that.”
“I didn’t have any expectation we’d have sex,” he says with a chiding smile. “Truly… just coffee. But I’m also glad to get you a cab.”
“I’m not averse to sex in general,” I say. Once again, I sort of shrink backward with a full-body cringe. “Oh God… why did I say that?”
Chuckling, Griff steps into me and puts his hands on my hips. “Just relax, Bebe. We aren’t going to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I’m just so nervous all of a sudden,” I babble, continuing in a rush of tangled words. “And my friend Dozer told me to not get wrapped up in my head about this and to do whatever I wanted to do, as long as I’m safe, and well… I do feel safe with you and we’d have to be safe about sex, so I guess that—”
Griff’s mouth comes down on mine, effectively shutting me up, and I start to sink into oblivion. His kiss is so fantastically amazing, and I lose myself in it. After another few moments, I know if he told me to get naked and get on the pool table, I’d do it. It has to be a combination of alcohol and forced celibacy, but the deeper part of my psyche realizes Griff has the power to make me feel so much more if I ever gave him a shot.
Way too quickly, his mouth is gone and he’s smiling down at me. “Let’s go to my apartment. We’ll have some coffee and sober up so cooler heads prevail, but I’m still going to need to put you in a cab at some point. It’s a work night for us both, and we won’t be safely sober enough to drive for a while. So let’s just go hang for a bit longer. We can plan our next date.”
“There’s going to be another date?” I ask curiously, my lips still tingling from his kiss. My chest constricts from the sweetness of his words.
“After that first kiss?” he asks with a wink. “You’re damn straight there’s going to be another date.”
When I laugh, it comes from a genuine place within me that I haven’t opened up to many other people. A part I thought might have died from living in isolation and fear for seven years. But it feels good. Besides, the way Griff’s eyes light up from the sound makes it even better.
We leave the bar, hand in hand, and walk the few blocks to Griffin’s apartment. It’s small, but clean and nicely furnished. “Sorry it’s a little bare,” he explains as we enter. “I’ve still got all my stuff in storage from the move.”
“I can help you unpack sometime if you want,” I offer, glancing around the living room.