Erica's Choice (2 page)

As Griff approached the booth, he let his gaze linger on the woman opposite his friend. She had a playboy bunny’s body underneath those drab clothes. The fact that she didn’t go out of her way to accentuate her obvious assets only made her more intriguing, like a wicked tease to Griff’s vivid imagination. She might not be Griff’s usual type, but damn could he have some fun with her.

Corey’s crush, Griff. Corey’s crush.

“Drinks all round,” Griff announced and slid the beverages on the table between them. “White wine’s your poison, isn’t it?”

Red blinked at him, clearly surprised that he knew. Could she guess that Corey wasn’t the only one who’d watched her with no small amount of interest over the past few months? Sure as bears shit in the woods, any guy with a dick was going to notice a rack like that, no matter how well it was concealed by a lace-trimmed blouse. Griff had simply been better at hiding his interest.

Until now.

Up close she wasn’t merely pretty, as he’d judged her. She was beautiful in a manner that was soft, classic, like a fifties ingénue, with a body made for every modern-day sin Griff could imagine. And there were a lot of those. The way her mouth hung open in surprise had Griff’s mind instantly turning down Bawdy Street. He saw the pink, wet flesh of her tongue resting beyond the plump outline of her lightly glossed lips and was filled with a raw, powerful need to suck it into his mouth.

“This is Erica—Erica Shannon.”

Corey introduced them before Griff could make the hasty retreat he suddenly realized he needed to. She held out her hand, compelling Griff to take it. Her fingers slid into his, brushing against the flesh of his palm. “It’s nice to meet you.”

That whisper of contact electrified him, made him suck in a harsh breath. He swelled in his jeans, imagining that breathy voice rasping naughty nothings in his ear, picturing that lush mouth working its way over his chest and lower.

Oh crap. This has gotta mean trouble.

Griff couldn’t very well walk around the pub in his suddenly uncomfortable condition. He hastily grabbed an unused chair from a table nearby, flipped it around and straddled it so neither Erica nor Corey could guess what had happened. He’d stay for a few minutes—one drink. He’d get himself under control, then he’d skedaddle and leave the lovebirds alone.

“Call me Griff,” he managed to choke out. “Everyone does.”

“I know.”

She blushed and ducked her head, as though she’d just revealed a closely guarded secret. Realization stole through Griff—or was it wishful thinking? Either way he was beginning to wonder if Corey was the only one Erica Shannon had been studying these past few months.

The very possibility made his physical situation a whole lot worse, but he tried not to get ahead of himself. Erica did not look like the threesome type—and Griff could usually pick the type. He was pretty damn sure Corey had never even thought of doing anything like it—more’s the pity. Straight down the line and unfailingly traditional, that was Corey. Griff’s own preference for multiple-partner playtime was probably coloring his thoughts.

But a few minutes later, Griff looked over to find Erica eyeing him through her lashes, flicking him brief glances even as she appeared enthralled by Corey’s small talk. In those moments Griff saw something fiery and reckless in her eyes, something that hinted at heat beneath the ice, wildness beneath the conservative exterior. That something called to him like a siren song, compelling him to keep turning the wicked ideas around in his head, no matter how he might be twisting things in his mind to suit his own tastes.

No matter how unlikely it was that Corey would agree to share the woman he was infatuated with.

Chapter Two

“You know Erica, you haven’t said much about yourself.”

Corey twirled his nearly empty beer glass—his second since he’d sat down with her—between his large hands. It made a swirling sound on the wood that Erica could hear even above the crowd noise and rock music. It was as though she was keenly attuned to everything about him, as though there were a physical connection instead of mere proximity between them. Watching his fingers slide up and down the glass made her picture with stark clarity the way his hands would move over her body.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to stick to small talk when all she wanted to do was beg him to touch her. “My life’s not as interesting as yours.” It was the truth, but not the real reason she hadn’t revealed a lot of personal information. She simply didn’t want to think or talk about herself right now. She wanted to be somebody else, somebody with the world beneath their feet, a whole life to look forward to. A woman who made a hobby out of flirting with men in bars.

In short, she wanted to be anyone but her.

Corey flashed her a smile that was equal parts shy and sexy. “I’m interested.”

Mother superior would leave the convent for that smile.
“I told you I’m a teacher.”

Corey nodded. “History and English. Is that why you carry such a big book around with you?”

Erica detected an edge in the question, and she wondered if he thought her the biggest dork in the world. “I’ve always liked to read, my Aunt Claire’s influence.”

“Your aunt?”

His interest in her was obvious, and for once Erica decided to let down her shields a fraction. Whether it was the wine or the warmth of the man across from her, Erica didn’t know. “She died earlier this year. She left me her house and her vast collection of leather-bound originals.”

Aunt Claire had left her other things too, but Erica definitely did not want to discuss the details of that particular legacy.

“I’m sorry.” The softness in his blue eyes told Erica it wasn’t a meaningless platitude. “Were you close?”

“Yes.” Erica’s throat constricted around the word. “She raised me from the time I was twelve, when my mother died.”

“What about your dad?”

Her father hadn’t been able to handle Erica’s needs, the panic attacks and separation anxiety she’d suffered after losing her mother to a long battle with cancer. He’d been tapped out after so many years dealing with his wife’s illness. When he moved to the far north for work, Erica had moved in with Claire, who’d accepted the presence of her sister’s sullen teenage daughter in her life with loving aplomb.

“He thought I was better off with my aunt,” Erica said.

As though he sensed all she’d left unsaid, Griff offered bluntly, “He sounds like a prick.”

Corey sent his friend a censuring look, but Erica smiled faintly. The days when she would have leapt to her father’s defense were long behind her. She’d grown up and learned not to rely on a man to be there when the chips were down. “He lives in the Northern Territory now.” With a whole new family, a less needy one. “We exchange Christmas cards but that’s about it.”

“Oh, Erica.” Tugging on her fingertips, Corey coaxed her hand toward him. He held it turned upward on the tabletop, caressing her sensitive palm with his thumb while he looked into her eyes, more deeply than any man ever had.

Her heart was going to pump right out of her chest if he didn’t stop staring at her like that, like he wanted nothing better than to hold her in his arms and make all the past hurts disappear. It would be so easy to fall for a man like Corey Wachawski.

But she wasn’t here to start a relationship. She was in no position to fall for anyone. Erica extracted her hand because the contact seemed to be more about emotional connection than sexual stimulation, although the latter had certainly had its effect on her body. She shifted in her seat, trying to alleviate the ache. “What about you? Do you get on with your parents?”

Corey allowed her to steer the focus back onto him, even though this time Erica thought he was aware of her ploy. “My mother’s great. Works as a secretary with a real estate company. My dad’s a cop with thirty years on the job. He likes to rib me about becoming a fiery, says I broke his heart.”

“Why didn’t you go into police work?”

Griff chuckled. “He wanted to be in the beefcake calendar.”

“Shut up.” Corey rolled his eyes. “He’s joking. That whole calendar thing’s embarrassing.”

“You see, Red, what you have here is the last of the noble men,” Griff drawled. “He only posed for the firefighter’s calendar to raise money for the kids’ burn unit—not for the chicks.”

“What about you?”

Griff showed her a wide grin. “I did it for both reasons. And for a lark. I figure they were pretty desperate that year to ask a guy with a mug like mine to pose.”

His self-deprecating statement had Erica studying the face in question. He wasn’t handsome in the traditional, breath-stealing sense that Corey was. Griff’s nose was a little crooked, his lips not as sinfully full as his friend’s. But the lively sparkle that danced in his hazel eyes and the bold flash of his easy smile enhanced the appeal of his chiseled features, hard body and confident demeanor.

Corey said, “He’s pretending to be modest. He knows he’s in pretty good shape for an old bloke.”

“Thirty-six is not old, you twenty-two-year-old shithead.”

“Twenty-
five
.”

“Close enough.” Griff smiled. Erica sensed the age difference was an ongoing source of teasing between them. “I could still whip your butt in the gym, no matter how old you are.”

“On the treadmill maybe. Not at the weight bench.”

Erica listened, amused, as they continued their affectionate game of one-upmanship. So this was dick-measuring in action. She’d never had men do it for her benefit. Erica couldn’t help but be a little flattered they might bother to try to impress her. Flattered and aroused.

She wanted them—both of them, like she’d never wanted before. But how on earth was she going to take the next step and make it happen?

“Can I buy you another drink?”

“Maybe a Coke,” Erica replied to Corey’s question. Her throat was suddenly parched.

Corey headed to the bar, leaving Griff and Erica alone. After the relatively easy banter they’d both shared with Corey, the sudden dearth of dialogue was as loud as the Nickelback
hit playing in the background. Erica felt the weight of Griff’s stare and the speculation in it.

Erica forced herself to meet his gaze and hold it. “I think one of my students would tell you to take a picture because it would last longer.”

His lips quirked. “Just trying to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

“Your angle.” Griff placed his now-empty beer glass on the table and leaned his arms on the back of the turned-around chair he sat on. The change in posture brought his face mere inches from hers. His bald question was softly uttered, deceptively simple. “Do you want me?”

Erica found her mouth flapping open and shut uselessly for several wild thumps of her heart. “I can’t believe you,” she spluttered. “You’re the bluntest person I’ve ever met.”

“I like to know where I stand.” He eyed her steadily for a tension-filled moment. “Are you going to answer?”

“What do you expect me to say?”

“That your nipples are so hard you have to keep crossing your arms to hide them. That you’re so wet you can’t stop squirming in your seat.” The fact he’d noticed her discomfort made the heat in her body rise another few degrees. “Is that all for Corey? Or is there something in it for me?”

Erica glanced toward the bar to see Corey still waiting for the drinks. As though sensing her scrutiny, he turned and met her gaze. His smile was hot with promise, making Erica throb with awareness. Her mind raced with possibilities that Griff made more vivid with his rumbling words. “What do you think? Reckon he’ll be willing to share you?”

“You know him best.” Was that her voice sounding like Marilyn Munroe’s? Was this
her
, staid, responsible Erica Shannon letting this virtual stranger know her deepest sexual desires? “You tell me.”

“I’m not sure I know how it would sit with Corey.” His soft admission told Erica Griff was rarely unsure of Corey. “Because I see the way he’s looking at you, Red.”

“How’s that?”

“Like he wants to marry you a week from Sunday.”

A chill raced through her, dampening some of her ardor. Long-term was not an option for her—now or possibly ever. “That’s not going to happen. I can’t have a relationship. But I want…I want…”
Damn my proper upbringing anyway. Why can’t I just say it?

“You want my hands on you.” It was a statement, not a question, one that had Erica’s insides puddling to mush while her every erogenous zone went on red alert. “Corey’s hands too. You want us both kissing you, touching you, making you come. You want us both loving you with everything we’ve got. Right?”

He’d outlined exactly what her body had craved for months, the sinful things she’d never really thought she’d have the temerity to admit she longed for. Here he was, offering them to her on a silver platter. Erica badly wanted to accept. More than anything else tonight, she wanted to
feel
, all the things she’d denied herself out of fear and modesty and her own reticence.

At length, Erica gave a wordless nod, the show of acquiescence making her skin prickle in anticipation. She was actually going to do this. Making the decision felt not unlike leaping off a cliff.

Griff closed his eyes briefly, as if he’d been hanging on her answer. When he opened them again there was devilish intent in their golden irises. “I can make it happen.”