Illusive

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” he murmured.

“I want to feel loved and special. I don’t want to ever know the feeling of being discarded ever again, like I did over and over with the families who were happy to have me for the money they made off the government, but quick to discard me when I no longer suited their life anymore. You hear stories of kids who are abused in the system. I never experienced abuse, but neglect and lack of love fucks you up, too. So, after a couple of one-night-stands when I was younger, I decided they weren’t for me. I’d rather have no sex than casual sex that means nothing, and makes me feel like shit all over again when the guy leaves without a second glance.” Shit, this was dredging up feelings I usually did my best to avoid; feelings I buried so deep I didn’t even know where to look for them anymore.

He sat watching me, and I knew he was processing every word I’d said by the thoughtful look on his face. Ghosts of the past filled the room, lingering like a nightmare you wanted to forget, but couldn’t. And I sensed they weren’t only my ghosts. I sensed that Griff carried ghosts the way most people carried happy memories.

“I had love once…well, at least I thought I did. Fuck, I thought I had something special, but that’s the thing about love – how do you know when the other person feels the same way? How do you know they’re not playing you, and hedging bets between you and someone else? That makes you feel like shit. I won’t go there again,” he said, and I watched him sitting in his pain, and my heart hurt for whatever he’d gone through. I wanted to slap the woman who’d done that to him, because she’d taken a man who was open to love, and made him close his heart to the possibilities of everything love had to offer.

“We’re not all like that,” I said softly.

“Neither are the men who know how to treat a woman right for one night only,” he replied, watching me closely, and I felt like we were at a checkmate. Both clinging to what we needed, neither willing to bend.

Not sure where to take the conversation now, I sat in silence, and then Griff stood abruptly. He looked down at me with an expression I couldn’t pick, but if I were to try, I’d say he seemed torn over something. “It’s late. I’ll let you get to bed,” he said before leaving me to take his glass into the kitchen.

I followed him, wanting every moment I could have to watch him. Even the way he moved was a turn-on. His body moved with a sense of authority and power, and I’d always found men who had that take-charge attitude hot.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I waited while he rinsed his glass and placed it next to the sink. When he faced me again, the desire I saw in his eyes made my core clench.

He closed the distance between us and stepped into my personal space. Although his body remained rigid in the way I was grasping was Griff’s way, and although he kept his emotions tucked away and his face bare of them, his desire rang out loud and clear.

He wants me.

But he’s denying himself.

In that moment, I felt everything he was feeling.

Want and denial seemed to be something we had in common.

He surprised the hell out of me when he reached out, cupped my cheek, and traced his thumb over my lips. His touch was so gentle and yet so firm in the one stroke. He shifted his gaze from my lips to my eyes. “Beautiful,” he murmured, and my heart beat faster at that word. “Don’t doubt yourself, sweetheart,” he added before letting my cheek go and striding down my hallway without another word.

I wanted to go after him and take back everything I’d said about one-night-stands. And I wanted to let him take over my body for this one night, regardless of the fact he’d get up and walk out when he was finished. And, damn, I wanted to try and make him change his mind about dating.

But I didn’t.

I stood rooted to the spot and watched him walk through my front door.

I let him leave, and I let our want and denial swirl in the air like a memory of a moment that you wanted to be so much more than a moment.

8

Griff

I hit the bar half an hour after leaving Sophia’s house. The bartender jerked his chin in greeting and placed a drink in front of me a moment later. I sucked the alcohol down, and hissed at the burn, but, fuck, I needed it.

Sophia was stuck in my mind, parts of our conversation on repeat.

We’re not all like that.

Fuck, I believed everything that came out of that woman’s mouth, but my mind got stuck on this, unable to believe it, but at the same time, unable to move past it. And yet, even if I accepted it to be true from her, she was not a woman I should even consider tainting with my needs. Sophia was all lightness, while all I had running through my veins these days was dark.

“Hi, gorgeous,” a voice came from beside me. I turned and found a hot brunette smiling at me. “Wanna buy me a drink?”

I assessed her. Sexy with curves in all the right places, and the look of a woman who did this kind of thing often, she would be perfect to take my mind off everything. I wanted to want to buy her a drink. Hell, I wanted a lot of fucking things – and it had been so fucking long for me that I needed them at this point – but I couldn’t bring myself to say yes. Shaking my head, I said, “Sorry, babe, I’m tapped out tonight.”

She shrugged. “How about I buy you a drink then?” Her gaze travelled over my body, lust flashing in her eyes. And Jesus, that should have gotten me hard, but here I sat, soft as a fucking eighty year old.

“Another time, maybe,” I said with regret. I wasn’t sure if my regret stemmed from not wanting her or from wanting someone else who I’d never allow myself to have.