He has the good grace to grimace. “I said I was sorry for that.”
“Sebastian has specific needs. It took time for us to learn one another and to be as good together as we are. Now his needs have shifted.” When I took on my need-specific, sometimes rigid husband, I certainly never expected his needs would extend to me having a romantic relationship with another man to keep him in Sebastian’s life. That was a bit of a surprise. I shrug my shoulders, picking up where I left off. “I adapt well to his shifting needs, that’s why I work so well with Sebastian.”
Griff nods, but he appears introspective as he uses the blade of the knife to move the quartered tomatoes and heads over to the sink to rinse it off. “So, can I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“His needs have shifted to include me now, right? So, what if they shift again? What if he realizes he doesn’t want to share you anymore?”
“I don’t think we need to worry about that now,” I tell him, partly because this is new and Sebastian really seems to like it, partly because I have no idea what happens if he changes his mind about this. I don’t want to be put into a hypothetical scenario like that. “Obviously Sebastian is fine with this arrangement. It was his idea to beg
in with and given our bedroom activities most nights this week, it clearly does not bother him to see us together. He loves both of us. He wants both of us to be happy. If we’ve found a way for all three of us to be happy together, why would he change his mind?”
Griff nods, considering this. “You see a future in this, then? You don’t think this is just… an experiment he’ll lose interest in?”
“I don’t think he would play with you that way, Griff. Obviously if he had reacted differently, if he would have let you have me that first night and then realized he couldn’t deal, that would be a different thing. But he’s fine with it. We’ve talked about it just the two of us, too. He’s not bothered by it. All of our needs are being met; he’s happy with the way things are. I don’t see why that would change.”
Griff cracks and peels the hard-boiled eggs while I grab plates and get the rest of our salads ready. Once they’re finished and topped with all the fixings, Griff takes a seat at the table and I grab a pitcher from the fridge, pouring us both glasses of ice water.
As I take a seat, Griff looks over at me. “I like being with you.”
I smile softly, placing my hand over his on the table. “I like being with you, too.”
“I don’t want it to only be because of Seb,” he adds.
I lose my smile, my eyebrow furrowing. I don’t think I make him feel that way, but maybe we talk about my husband more than we should. I’ve obviously never dated Griff, so I’m not sure how sensitive he is to that. “It’s not just because of him,” I tell him. “If I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t. I adore my husband, Griff, but I’m not an escort. I don’t go where I’m assigned if I don’t want to be there.” Drawing my hand away, I ask, “I mean, do you think I’ve been faking all along? We’ve been friends for years; obviously I care about you and enjoy your company. I admitted to having had not-so-pure thoughts about you even before the sharing was a reasonable possibility. I wouldn’t have acted on it because I’m not a shitty person, but I’m also not a sex doll.”
“I know that,” he says, searching my face for something. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
I push back from the table and stand. Griff’s gaze jumps to mine, concern in his blue eyes. He probably thinks he’s offended me. He pushes his chair back too, but before he can stand, I place a hand on his shoulder, step over his legs, and sit on his lap, straddling him. The concern is gone, replaced with surprise. He’s not sure how he just went from having possibly offended me to having me on his lap.
I smile at his confusion and wrap my arms around his neck, leaning in and giving him a kiss. “I told you before, Griff. You’re a wonderful man. You’re a sweetheart.” I lean in and kiss his neck. “You’re sexy as hell.” I kiss his neck again. “You have a big, beautiful cock and you know just how to use it.” Another kiss, but now I can feel his arousal straining against the fabric of his pants. “I could keep telling you all the wonderful things I like about you, if you want.” I let my hand slide not-so-innocently down his muscular torso and caress him through the fabric of his slacks. “Or I could just show you how much I like you. I can sink to my knees right here beneath the table, free your cock, and worship it with my mouth until you come down my throat.”
“Fuck, Moira.”
I nip at his earlobe. “Or you can come on my tits, if you want. Then we can shower together and wash it all off.” I drag my lips down his neck, then lean back and offer him a little smile. “Whatever you want, baby.”
Griff shakes his head, looking at me like he can’t quite believe me—still. “You are a filthy little angel, aren’t you?”
I grin at him. “I like that.”
“I like you,” he states.
I smile, leaning my forehead against his. “I like you, too.”
12
Griff
I know as soon as Ashley sits down across from me and her boobs practically spill out of her shirt that my lawyer was right—I should not be here.
Not because I’ll fall for her bullshit, obviously. But because this is going to be annoying, and it’s unlikely to go the way I hoped when I agreed to meet her.
My hope was that I could make her see that her stalling is pointless. When we fought, Ashley always knew she could wear me down. Obviously she thought she could get out of cheating on me just as easily. It’s not a thing I like about myself, but I have a weakness for beautiful women. Not like I can’t keep my shit together around any given beautiful woman, but when I give one the keys to my castle, I don’t like to take ‘em back. Doesn’t matter if they shit all over everything, doesn’t matter if they throw everything I invested in them back in my face. If they come crawling back, some sick shit inside of me tells me I should take it. Tells me it’s all I deserve—more than I deserve, really. I should be glad they even want to crawl back to me.
Right now, the sadistic side of my brain that spits out poisonous shit like that doesn’t have a leg to stand on, though. Because I have Moira, and Moira is everything I’ve always wanted. Everything Ashley could never be—that Ashley has no interest in being. I remember keenly the loneliness I felt last time I tried to hold Ashley. Whereas now, sitting here at this table, I can recall the warmth of Moira snuggled in my arms this morning, her soft lips moving tenderly along my jawline. What a way to wake up.
No, I’m not worried about getting sucked back in to Ashley’s shit; I just want her to go away, and frankly, if I can throw a little money at her and make that happen faster, I’d like to.