Found by You (6 page)

She gripped her glasses, turning them in her hands. She looked uncomfortable, and I started to regret what I just asked, but that regret went out the window with her next words.

“Sure,” she said.

Chapter Seven

Roxie

I didn’t know why I told Griffin it was okay for him to come down to my apartment. It really wasn’t. It didn’t sit well with me after what I found out about him. Despite that, I said yes anyway. I knew the type of person he was. The things he took part in. So why did I give him permission to come to me? Allow him to be in one of my most intimate of spaces, my home. I could only gather that my obvious feelings for him outweighed my reservations. I really was one of those stupid girls that succumbed to him and believed in the magic of who he was. I just didn’t understand why he continued to talk to me. He was leaving his own party now, and he was doing so to spend time with me. Why would he do that when he had already been with two girls tonight? Ones who most assuredly didn’t look or act as shy and reserved as me. I just didn’t understand Griffin Chandler.

He just didn’t make sense to me.

I hid my laptop first. That was the most important thing. He wouldn’t understand my online sessions and I didn’t want to risk him seeing them. After that, I didn’t have time for anything else. He knocked. He was here.

I tugged down on my shorts, making the journey to my door on bare feet. Before I answered, I thought over my plans for tonight. I wouldn’t let him stay long. He said he wanted to talk to me. Maybe it was about something specific and then he’d leave.

I nodded at my game plan to tell him to go soon and then opened the door to the big man on campus.

Griffin filled both the width and height of the doorframe. In fact, he would have to lower his head a bit to come into the room. He wore faded jeans and a thin t-shirt that covered his trained definition, exposing his sculpted arms.

“Hey,” I said, hanging onto the open door. I did so as if it was my lifeline. There was still time to close the door, to turn him away.

He said, “hi,” giving a small smile that curved up in the corner of his lips, and I knew I wouldn’t make him leave initially. He sent a flutter into my heart. Even after all the crap tonight.

Widening the door, I allowed him to pass me, and just like I predicted, he had to hunch a bit to come in.

He turned around, flashing those gorgeous eyes at me. “I won’t stay long. I know you said you were tired.”

I was grateful he said this. It kept me from having to kick him out later. Since he was here, I knew I had to be at least a decent hostess. I pointed toward the kitchen in the next room. “Would you like some tea? I made a pot of water earlier. It should still be hot.”

Slowly, he slid his large hands into his jean pockets. “I’d love some tea.”

I heard him pad lightly as he followed behind me to my small kitchen. I knew he was trying to be quiet. My floorboards creaked like hell.

When we got into the kitchen, I tapped the metal pot with my fingers quickly, feeling for warmth. The water seemed okay, so I moved around the kitchen to get everything else while Griffin watched me the whole time. I knew because I could feel his eyes on me, making my whole body warm.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked, his subtle accent ghosting out a bit. He drew in closer to me when I reached for the teabags on the counter. I couldn’t see him with my back to him, but I knew he was there. That sweet, woodsy scent of his flourished around me, elevating my heartbeat.

I let out a breath, not turning around to look at him. I didn’t want to verify how close he actually was. I couldn’t. “It’s okay. I got it.”

The room went silent, shooting up in awkwardness, and I knew even more now it was a bad idea to let him in. Hopefully he would drink his tea quickly. After I placed the tea bags on my small kitchen table, I went to retrieve two cups above the stove.

My white sleeve fell off my shoulder, exposing my bra strap. Damn thing always did that. I hated this shirt. I wished I didn’t have to wear it tonight, but I knew that was inevitable. There were things I did sometimes that weren’t the result of my own choices. I usually didn’t mind. Mostly because of the rush. Tonight, with Griffin here, I found myself minding.

Popping up on my toes, I opened the high cabinet with one hand and reached to get the cup with the other.

“Roxie, let me help you get that.”

I ignored Griffin’s offer for aid out of stubbornness and kept reaching for the cup that was too high for me to get. A shot of pain hit my shoulder, and I pulled my arm back. My fingers brushed a teacup on the way out, and the cup fell from the cabinet. It crashed to the floor with a smash and broke into several pieces.

Griffin was at my side in seconds, bending down with me. “Roxie, let me help you,” he repeated. If I had let him help me with getting the cup in the first place I wouldn’t have dropped it.

Shaking my head at myself, I picked up the three largest pieces. Griffin got the rest, and we deposited them into the trashcan.

“Are you okay?” Griffin asked. “I saw you cringe. Is it your shoulder?”

I turned to look at him, finally making direct eye contact. The genuine concern in his eyes actually hurt me. Why did he have to be so nice, if only to have so much baggage that came with him? I felt as if someone were playing a cruel joke on me. On my heart.

I grabbed my shoulder, rubbing. “Yeah. From the bout.”

He stepped forward, and his large frame towered over me, enveloped me. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Rather hesitantly, I shifted my shoulder to him and watched as he lifted his hands, placing them out to me. His first hand touched my shoulder, so warm on my bare skin. My sleeve must have fallen down again when I reached for the cup. I was no longer damning its name as it allowed Griffin to feel me, touch me. As he rested the one hand there, he placed the other at the place of my joint.

“Tell me when this hurts,” he said. Guiding his hand down my arm, he lifted it ever so slowly.

The sensations I was feeling nearly felt sinful. No man’s touch should make a girl feel this way, warm and forever at peace under his hands. That was until he lifted my arm too high. The pain killed, sharp and throbbing, and I cringed, nearly cowering from the touch I enjoyed only moments prior.

Nodding, he lowered my arm. “You really worked it,
Elbowa
,” he said, winking.

I bit my lip.

“Good news is the injury doesn’t look serious. This happens to me all the time when I practice free throws. I actually have some soothing cream in my apartment that will make it feel better. It won’t fix the problem, only rest and stretching will, but at least you won’t be in pain. I’ll go get it.”

Before I could respond, he was already leaving the kitchen. I followed him, pulling my shirtsleeve over my shoulder. “Griffin, you don’t have to.”

He turned, sending a jolt into my heart. Just one look from him could do that to me.

He smiled. “Let someone help you for once.”

Then he was out the door.

Griffin

After slipping into my apartment quickly and slipping out with the soothing cream just as quick, I took the stairs back down to Roxie’s apartment two at a time. No one paid attention to me when I came into the party, and no one cared when I left. Frankly, I didn’t care if they had.

I could still feel Roxie in my hands, her body heat burning deep within my fingertips and palms. Her whole apartment smelled of her. Sweet and incredibly warm. I found myself wanting to be around her simply to be near her. I didn’t care if it was only for a few minutes while I gave her the cream. If that’s all I had, a few minutes before I left so she could go to bed, I’d take them.

I’d definitely take them.

My feet didn’t seem to take me to her door fast enough, and when she opened the door, desperate thoughts of increasing the minutes I had with her tonight came to fruition. Her smile made me want to be selfish, rude, and dwell out our time together this evening.

She let me in once again, and I tried not to stare at her body. She had so much skin exposed: her bountiful legs, and her shoulder as her shirt once again fell from her arm. So much skin. Instead, I tried to focus on why I was here.

I lifted the tube of white cream, shaking it casually. “This is it.”

She nodded, pushing her shirt back up over her arm. A spark of disappointment hit my chest when she did. She drew in closer and squinted at the small plastic bottle I had. “There’s no label. What is it?”

I laughed. It probably did look weird all unlabeled like that. “I actually made it.”

Her eyes widened. “You... you made it?”

“Yes. Coach gave me the recipe after I kept throwing my shoulder out. It’s a replication of some cream that used to be made in the 50s for injuries that isn’t being made anymore. He recreated it. Made something similar and uses it on the people he trains. I swear to God it’s legit, though. I use it all the time. It won’t give you a rash or anything.”

She chuckled and I really liked the sound of it. She held out her hand for it. I went to give it to her when I remembered something. “It actually has to be massaged in, like worked into the skin. I usually have my private trainer help me with mine. I can help you since it’s in a hard to reach area.”

Her eyes veered away, and I realized immediately what I said. I didn’t want to scare her or make her uneasy, so I decided to give her an out. “But I won’t if you don’t want the help. I just wanted to offer… but only if you needed the help of course.”

I knew I was fumbling my words all over the place.

Shit. Why did I offer to massage her? She probably thinks I’m some perv—

“No, it’s okay,” she said, surprising the hell out of me. She shrugged. “No big deal, right?”

“Right.” No big deal…

She gazed around her apartment filled with ambient light from her small table lamp. “Where would you like me?”

Her bed would probably be best as it was a flat, soft surface for her to lie on, but I didn’t dare suggest that. I looked around as well. Her couch appeared to be a safer option.

I turned down a pillow at one of the ends for her to lay on. “Go ahead and lay down here. On your belly.”

She did as instructed. Resting her cheek on the pillow, she faced the couch. I didn’t blame her. This was probably awkward enough for her without having to stare at me while I put my hands on her.

I lowered to the carpet on my knees and opened the cream. I pushed about a quarter-sized drop into my palm, working it into my hands a little bit before I touched her. I’d only moved my hands toward her when she reached underneath her, pushing her sleeve down her arm, revealing more skin and her purple bra strap. She pushed that down too until there was nothing keeping my sight from viewing her body. She looked so soft to the touch.

“That might make it easier,” she said, giving a short laugh.

Yes, easier. In one way, but not another.

I placed my hands on her shoulder, and she breathed in deep at the touch. I hoped my hands weren’t cold. I did work them together a bit to warm them up before I touched her. I moved my hands into her skin.

“It’s so warm,” she sighed.

I smiled. I was glad I didn’t make her cold. Between the heat of my hands and the initial warming effect of the cream, she should be okay. I continued the massage, doing my best to work her muscles properly while I watched the white cream disappear into her milky brown skin.

I was nearly done when she made a noise, so light, humming from her throat. I liked that noise, so I moved my hands the way I had just seconds prior. She made the noise again, so deep this time that it had a hint of growl to it. It was a moan. Something I was doing was making her moan. She didn’t stop and neither did I. I became dependent on the sound and visions of what I could do to make her moan more came to the forefront of my mind.

I drew in close to her shoulder, still moving my hands as I lowered my head, my nose, my mouth to her. She smelled so nice. A breath escaped my lips, breezing over her shoulder, and she gasped. Turning her head, she looked directly at me, mere inches from my face.

I removed my hands from her body, lowering them to my sides. “Sorry.”

It didn’t seem like she heard me. She only stared into my eyes, like she was lost in them. Her doing that allowed me to focus on hers without worry of awkwardness. They were so green, such a unique element to her.

She dampened her full lips, and my focus moved to her mouth. She looked like she wanted to be kissed.

I wanted to kiss her.

I closed the already small distance between us, daring to brush my lips against hers. When they did, a wisp of breath escaped her mouth, her scent so savory and inviting. I pressed my lips to hers, feeling her warmth and the fullness of her lips. I wanted more, but she pulled back, staring at me with wandering eyes, looking so unsure.

I didn’t understand the look. I was going to ask her, but I never got the chance. Pushing her hand behind my neck, she closed her eyes, pressing her own mouth to mine this time.

Groaning, I grabbed her by the waist. I pulled her from the couch easily, maneuvering her to the floor and underneath me. I was gentle with her during the descent. She was so delicate.

Covering my body along the length of hers, I gripped her hip, feeling her ample curves. A rush hit me like nothing else before had. It increased my heart rate and amplified my hunger in ways unique to me. Her body felt wonderful under mine, so hot to the touch, her shape forming to me perfectly.

I allowed my lips to escape from hers. I wanted to taste her neck, the sweetness of her skin. I did, drawing the warm skin into my mouth, and she panted, gripping the back of my t-shirt underneath her fingers.

“Griffin…” she said, my name laced in yearning, longing. I’d never heard my name sound that way before. It was unfilled with lust, only seeking, calling me to her in the most pining way. Almost like she ached for me.

I ached for her as well. I increased the pressure of my lips, moving my tongue gently along her skin. “I like how you say my name,” I told her, meaning every word I said.