Red Hot Obsessions (75 page)

“Um, this is my party,” I said. “What are you doing here? This is a sober party. I mean, no drugs.”

“Yeah,” he said. He dug something out of his pocket to hand to me.

I took it. It was a two-week-sober chip. “Oh. Congratulations.”

“I had to quit,” he said. “I was tweaking too much. I was sitting in my living room one day, and I’d been awake for like a week. And there were like, these men coming out the walls. They were trying to eat me. And no matter where I went, I couldn’t get away from them. And that was when I was like, ‘Dude, I gotta get off this stuff.’ You know?”

“I think so,” I said. There was a reason I’d never gotten into meth.

“They call that, um, hitting bottom,” he said.

“Right,” I said. I nodded. “I’ve been there.”

“Anyway, I started going to meetings, and then that Stacey chick said she was throwing a party here in Thomas, and I figured it would be safer to hang out here than to be with the people that I used to party with all the time. So I came. Congrats on a month.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“So, uh, you don’t actually live in Morgantown, do you?” he said.

I was confused. Then I remembered the last conversation I’d had with him, when I’d lied to him about where I lived. Afterwards, the Op Wraith guy had shot me in the chest. My eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”

“Just curious,” he said.

“Did some men in black suits come to talk to you about me, Benton?”

He made a confused face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just wondering if you lived here, that was all.”

Maybe he hadn’t told the Op Wraith guys about me. Maybe that had all been a coincidence. “Yeah.” I pushed past him into the bathroom. “See you around, I guess.”

I wanted to tell Griffin about seeing Benton and get his opinion on whether or not it was something we should worry about. But Stacey intercepted me in the kitchen and talked me into having a pina colada or some coconut drink. It was really tasty.

Then we danced more.

By the time I got to see Griffin, it was hours later, I was pretty tipsy, and I had forgotten all about Benton.

The party was thinning out. I was sprawled on the couch in the living room, with Stacey next to me.

“I can’t find my shoes,” I said, staring at the ceiling.

Griffin appeared above me, dangling the shoes. “I got them.”

I sat up. “Oh, you’re awesome.”

“You
are
awesome, Griffin,” said Stacey. “And I’m so glad that I was right about the two of you. Wasn’t I right?”

“You were,” I said.

She pointed at Griffin. Stacey was a little bit tipsy too. “You were all, ‘It’s not going to happen, Stacey.’ And now look at the two of you. I am a matchmaker.”

Griffin laughed. “Yes, you’re on top of it. I admit I was wrong.”

“Good.” She sniffed, raising her chin.

I giggled.

“You ready to go home, doll?” asked Griffin.

I lifted up my arms to him. “Take me home.”

He handed me my shoes. “Hold these.” And then he reached down and picked me up.

I shrieked. “Put me down! Put me down now!”

Stacey laughed. “How come you never pick me up, Jack?”

“Because I’m a weakling,” came Jack’s voice from somewhere close by. I couldn’t actually see him because Griffin was in my way.

I was laughing. “Put me down, Griffin. I didn’t get to say goodbye to Stacey.”

He swung me around to face her. “Say goodbye.”

“I can’t hug her,” I protested.

Stacey waved. “Bye, Leigh. I’ll hug you tomorrow when you guys come over to help clean up. Which you’re going to do, right?”

“We are?” I said.

“Of course,” said Griffin.

He carried me all the way to the car.

*

“It’s just that I’ve been thinking,” I said to Griffin as I walked up the steps to my apartment. “And we need to talk about some stuff.”

He was behind me. “Maybe we should save the heavy topics for another time, doll. I doubt you’re in any condition for in-depth conversation right now.”

I was a wee bit on the drunk side, it was true. But it wasn’t making me think unclearly. It was making me feel more bold. And I needed courage to broach this topic with Griffin. “I have to talk about it now. If I don’t, I’ll never bring it up again because I’ll be too scared.”

“Okay, you’re making me nervous,” he said.

I opened the door and flicked on the light. “Don’t be nervous. It’s not bad.”

He shut the door after himself. “Isn’t it? Because I’ve never had a conversation that started out with, ‘We need to talk,’ that ended well.”

“It’s only that...” I twisted my hands together. “I want to make you feel as good as you make me. And you won’t let me, and I don’t know why.”

He drew a hand over his face. “Oh, doll.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think we should. Because I keep thinking about how much I want to touch you, and I want you to want me to do that too.”

He turned away from me. “I do. Just... not yet.”

I grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to face me. “But how can this be enough for you? I’m getting all the pleasure. And you’re not getting any.”

He shook his head. “That isn’t true.”

“It is.”

“No.” He put his hands on my shoulders. He bent down and kissed me. “Just looking at you gives me pleasure.”

“It’s not the same thing,” I said.

“You don’t know,” he said. “You don’t know how I feel.”

“So, tell me.”

He ran his hands over my shoulders, the tops of my arms. “When I see you in this dress, I feel overwhelmed by how beautiful you are.”

I placed my hand on his cheek.

He covered it with his own. “And I can’t believe that I actually have the chance to touch something so beautiful. That you would allow someone like me to kiss you.”

“Griffin, why do you think that something’s wrong with you?”

He looked away, his smile bitter. “Because there is, doll. But I can’t talk about it.”

“I don’t think—”

“You don’t know.” His voice was sharp.

I sighed. I wandered into the kitchen. I picked up a fork that I’d left on the counter and put it in the sink. “That’s my point. You won’t tell me what’s going on.”

He was behind me, his hands on my hips, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my thighs where my dress ended. “Let it go for now, please? I can’t talk about it.”

“It’s not like it’s just about liking to look at me. We’re talking about sex.” Maybe I felt so bold because I wasn’t facing him. “We’re not doing it. And I’m having climaxes, and you aren’t.”

He planted a line of kisses down my neck. “I don’t need to. All I need is to know you’re having a good time.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Take off your panties.”

My breath caught in my throat. “What?”

“Just do it,” he growled in my ear.

I was too surprised not to comply. I slid my underwear down until they were pooled around my ankles, and then I stepped out of them.

“Good,” he whispered, turning me in his arms, so that I was facing him. I was pressed against his unyielding body. He kissed me. “Do you have any idea what simply knowing that you’re wearing nothing under that dress just did for me?”

“N-no.” I felt taut and tense, but eager for whatever came next.

He reached into the bodice of my dress, cupping my breast and pulling it out so that it was exposed. He did it with the other breast as well. The air in my kitchen was chilly, and goose bumps quivered over my bare skin, my nipples pulling tight. I drew in breath.

He surveyed me, his eyes half-lidded in satisfaction. “Seeing you like this is very nice.”

I was still feeling tight all over, but I was starting to feel warmth as well. It was a very enjoyable, tense feeling. And I liked the way his gaze roamed over me greedily.

His hands on my waist, he lifted me so that I was sitting up on the counter. He pressed up against me, his body strong and hard, his hands on my thighs, pushing my dress up over them, higher and higher.

My mouth found his, and we kissed hungrily until he broke away from me, stepping back.

He looked at me, just looked at me.

His breath was ragged, his expression ravenous.

It was almost too intense. I started to pull my knees closer.

“No,” he rasped. “Open for me.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. I did as he asked, spreading my legs, presenting myself to him.

“Oh, doll,” he groaned. “Can you really think I don’t enjoy myself?”

I was having trouble breathing. I wasn’t sure what to say. I reached for him, wanting him close again.

He came to me. He kissed my lips, the tip of my nose, the hollow just beneath my ear, both my breasts, and then he sank to his knees in front of me.

I felt his lips on my inner thigh, tracing his way to his destination.

And when he got there, I lost myself to him. He demanded, and I submitted to the sweet torture of his mouth.

*

It was the fifth time my phone had rung. I was snug against Griffin’s bare chest in bed, my skin gloriously just as bare, and he felt like hot, liquid marble against me. I didn’t want to move.

“Can you turn that off or something?” Griffin grumbled.

“Mmph.” With effort, I rolled away from him and slid out of bed. It was cold outside of the covers. I missed being close to him already.

My legs felt shaky, probably because of the things Griffin had been doing to me before we went to sleep. I smiled wickedly at the thought. I managed to make it out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Where had I left my phone?

I wasn’t sure if I was completely satisfied with his answer to the question I’d posed to him. I said that I wanted to touch him, and he basically responded by going down on me? It had been amazingly wonderful, don’t get me wrong. I shivered at the thought of it. So good.

But the thing was, I could tell that he was only trying to distract me.

I was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t horribly wounded or something. I wasn’t sure how that could have happened, considering he’d been given the serum and all of that, but I did remember what he explained to me about cutting off fingers....

I shivered again, but this time not out of pleasure. That couldn’t even happen, though, could it? I mean...

Plus, I’d felt his... you know, boy parts. We slept all jammed up against each other, and he sort of poked me sometimes. In the leg or the thigh. It seemed like everything was functioning okay down there.

He wasn’t broken.

At least, I didn’t think so.

He’d said something was wrong with him.

I wished he’d just tell me. Even if he was horribly wounded, I wouldn’t care. If that was the way things were, fine. I was sure there had to be something that we could do to make him feel good, and I wanted to do it.

I banged into my recliner. “Ouch.” The thing hadn’t moved hadn’t it? No, it was because it was dark.

My purse was out here somewhere, and my phone was in it. By this time, it had stopped ringing, but I needed to turn it off so that it wouldn’t ring and bother me again.

Maybe it was on the couch.

Blindly, I felt along the wall until I got to the couch. I blinked hard, trying to make my eyes see better in the dark.

No use. I couldn’t see much at all.

I felt along the couch.

Ah. Jackpot. Purse. I reached inside, found my phone, and pushed the button to turn it off.

Then I made my way down the hallway and climbed back into bed.

“Who was it?” Griffin asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t look. I just turned it off.” I snuggled close.

He wrapped his arms around me. “That’s weird, though, isn’t it? I mean, no one calls you except Stacey. And who would call that many times in a row?”

Was it weird? I was tired. I didn’t care. “If it’s Stacey, I’ll talk to her in the morning.”

Griffin shifted next to me, sitting up. “You need to check, doll.”

I moaned. “Why? I’m comfy now.”

“I’m thinking about it, and it’s weird. No one calls that many times in a row if it’s not urgent. And not very many people even have your phone number.”

I sat up too. “Fine.” I got out of bed again.

He did too. He went into the living room ahead of me, turning on the light.

When I got down the hallway, he handed me my phone.

“Why are we doing this?” I said, flopping down on the couch.

“Because it’s better to be cautious.”

I turned the phone on. “Six missed calls,” it said. I clicked on the notification.

They were all from Stacey. “It’s Stacey, all right.”

“Call her back,” said Griffin.

I selected her number and dialed.

It rang.

“Is she answering?” said Griffin.

And rang.

“I’d be talking if she was answering.”

And rang.

He rubbed his head. “Man...”

And went to voicemail. I hung up. “She didn’t answer.”

“Did she leave you messages?”

I checked. “Yeah. Three.”

“Play them,” he said. “Put them on speaker phone.”

“Do you really think something bad happened?”

“Play the messages.”

I did. I put the phone on speaker and set it on my coffee table.

“You have three new messages,” said my phone. “First new message.”

Stacey’s voice came over the speaker. She was a little high-pitched. “Hey, um, Leigh, it’s me. I’m freaked out. Jack and I heard something outside. I think someone might be trying to get in the house. Jack won’t let me call the police. You know how he is about that stuff. Do you think Griffin might come over? He’s a trained bodyguard and all, and Jack trusts him. You heard Jack earlier. He’s a weakling.” She paused. “Okay, well, call me back when you get this.”

I looked at Griffin. “It could be nothing, right? She just heard a noise. Right?”

He started to pace in front of the coffee table.

“Next new message,” said the phone.

Stacey again. Her voice was different now. Even higher. And it sounded like she was crying. “Leigh, there’s a guy here, and he’s making me call you, and he says if you don’t come he’s going to...” She broke off into sobs. “He’s got a gun, Leigh.”