Mine to Keep, page 15
I look up to see Vinny. “We starting in ten?” I nod at him as he stops by Grace’s desk, and all I do is hear her laughter. It bugs the shit out of me even though I know Vinny would never do anything. Also, since when have I become a jealous asshole? I grab my files, walking out of the office and trying not to look over at her and failing. “Try to get some work done.”
“I’ll try my hardest,” she mutters back. Well, at least we got this part down pat.
The meeting goes longer than expected, and when I return to my desk, there are triple the emails than usual. “Grace!” I shout her name. When I don’t see her move, I have to tell her, “Can you come here?”
She gets up and walks into my office. Her white jacket is off, and now I see the top is a sleeveless bodysuit. “You rang?” she says, and I can see her shoes have straps over the top, and they are even sexier than I thought. “I should get you a little bell so you can ring it when you need me.”
“What’s going on with the emails?” I ask her, ignoring the need to shut her in my office and devour her.
“Crazy, right?” She stops in front of my desk. “Seventy-five percent of those are new clients you met at the gala.” She tilts her head to the side. “I guess you swayed them with your charm.” She smirks. “I have set up meetings with half of them. Those are just the emails so you can be informed.” My mouth opens. “See, I do work. Is that all?”
“Yes,” I hiss at her, and she turns and walks back out of the office. Her ass is just as juicy in those pants as it is in my hands.
I pick up my phone to text her, but then put it down, saving it for when she leaves. She sticks her head in a little after four. “I’m going to head out,” she announces, and I just nod at her. “Have a good night,” she adds softly before returning to her desk to grab her jacket and her purse and walking out.
I pick up my phone and text her.
Me: Someone’s ass is in fine form.
I put down the phone, and it pings a couple of minutes later.
Grace: You can’t even see my ass in these pants. Tomorrow, I’ll wear tighter ones.
Me: I’d rather you didn’t. My pants aren’t stretchy in the front.
Grace: Bahaha, noted.
I put the phone down and wonder if I should change her name in my phone.
Me: What is my name saved under in your phone?
Grace: Not Batman.
I swear to God, I have never laughed more with another person before. I burst out laughing so much my stomach hurts.
Me: Okay, I’ll put you under Not Catwoman.
Grace: Ewww, why would I be Catwoman?
Me: Because I’m Batman.
Grace: You are Not Batman.
Me: Goodbye.
She doesn’t answer me back, and I change her name to Ballbuster. When I get in the car to go pick up Meadow, I call her, and she answers on one ring. “Yes,” she says, her voice sweet, making me miss her.
“I changed your name in my phone,” I tell her, and she laughs.
“It better not be Catwoman,” she huffs, and I hear the door slam on her end, so I know she just got home.
“Nope, it’s Ballbuster.”
“Aw, perfect,” she says. “Now I’m going to change out of my clothes, eat, and get to class.”
“Okay, talk to you later,” I reply, hanging up the phone and picking up Meadow. I fall asleep before her class even ends, and when I wake in the morning, there is a text telling me she’s off to bed, showing me it’s after one in the morning.
The whole week we barely see each other. The only making out we do is in the morning before going upstairs, but it’s not enough, and by the end of the week, I’m not the only cranky one.
“Grace.” I call her name when it’s almost the end of Friday.
“What?” she asks, walking into my office. She’s wearing a flowy skirt today.
“Are you done for the day?” I ask her, and she nods. I look out of the window, seeing that no one is nearby. “You can take off if you like.” She glares at me. “I’m just saying you’ve worked hard this week.”
“Whatever,” she hisses and turns to walk out of my office, grabbing her things and leaving. I roll my lips and wait five minutes before calling her.
“What’s got you in this mood?” I turn to look out at the sunlight.
“You,” she responds quickly. “You always put me in this mood.”
I laugh silently. “What did I do now?”
“Well, for one, you looked extremely hot today,” she huffs, “and I’m leaving without even kissing you. You suck at dating, by the way.”
I can’t help but chuckle out loud. “How about you come over for dinner tomorrow?” I invite softly. “I’ll put Meadow to bed at seven, and then we can have dinner together, followed by a massive make-out session.”
“I would like that very much,” she agrees finally, “like a lot.”
“Good, bring pj’s,” I tell her, and she groans.
“I’m not going to sleep over on our first date,” she huffs out.
“Who said anything about sleeping?” My cock wakes up. “Fine, sleep naked.”
“This isn’t helping, Caine,” she cries out. “You are the worst.”
“Call me later,” I tell her when I spot Kevin approaching her desk. She doesn’t even say goodbye. She just hangs up on me.
I get up, pretending to go drop something on her desk. “Looking for Grace?” I ask him, and he looks around. “She’s gone.” And taken, kiss-ass, my head says, but luckily, my mouth doesn’t.
“Oh, okay,” he says. “Have a great weekend.” I nod at him before turning and walking back into my office, grabbing my jacket and phone before leaving.
Tonight, I set an alarm for ten fifteen, and when I wake up, I call her. She answers after one ring, her voice filled with sleep. “Are you sleeping?” I ask her softly.
“I’m slipping into bed right now.” I hear the sheet rustle and wish I was with her. “I’m exhausted, but I set my alarm for seven. I’ll get up and do homework tomorrow morning and then nap before I come over.” I smile when she says that.
“What is your favorite meal?” I ask, and she laughs. “It’s like something I can’t make, right?”
“Either chicken potpie from my great-grandmother or—”
“How do you like steak and shrimp?” I interrupt her.
“I’m good with anything,” she assures me. “What time should I come over?”
“Now,” I joke with her, and she moans, and I honestly can’t fucking wait for her to come over tomorrow. “After seven fifteen is good.”
“Sounds good. Should I bring anything?”
“You and your sexy ass,” my mouth quickly answers without letting me think about it.
“Well, lucky for you my ass follows my body, so I will be there,” she teases, and she yawns.
“Go to sleep,” I say softly. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Okay, night,” she mumbles before she hangs up.
I put my phone on the side table, falling asleep right after she hangs up. The whole day I’m out of the house with Meadow. We go shopping for food, then I take her out to the park, where we fly her kite, making her run after it for an hour. When we get back home, I feed her quickly, then take her back outside to go bike riding. By the time she eats dinner, she’s begging to go to bed. Seven o’clock comes and she’s asleep in a matter of minutes. I have enough time to shower and walk downstairs before the doorbell rings.
I smile big when I walk over and pull open the door, seeing Grace standing there. She’s wearing a gold satin skirt with a white shirt, a short jean jacket, and black high heels on her feet. Her hair is pushed back from her face. “Hi.” That’s the only thing I let her say before dragging her inside and devouring her mouth.
twenty-one
Grace
“Hi,” he says. His whole face lights up, making the nervous energy I had inside me all day suddenly disappear. He slides his hand into mine, pulling me into his hold. I don’t even have time to laugh before his mouth is on mine. His tongue attacks mine, or maybe it’s my tongue that attacks his. Either way, the soft kiss I thought we were going to have in his entranceway is hot and heavy. It could be that for the last two days, our kisses were sparse, and I was running late on Friday, so the fifteen minutes we usually made out for was a mere two minutes. My hands grip his white T-shirt, trying to get closer to him. “Hi,” I finally reply, practically panting for him.
My hand comes up to his face, my fingers wiping my lip gloss off his lips. His arms tighten around my waist. “Welcome to my home.”
“Thank you for having me,” I say softly. “Is Meadow sleeping?”
“Out like a light,” he confirms. “I made sure I tired her out.” I chuckle. “I might have needed a nap.” His hands slide off my hips. “Let me get your jacket.”
“Trying to get me out of my clothes already?” I joke with him, slipping my jean jacket off. “You haven’t even fed me yet.” As I hand him my jacket, his hand comes up to grab it.
“You look beautiful,” he compliments, and I don’t think another man besides one from my family has called me beautiful. Sure, I’ve been called hot, but no man I’ve been dating or have dated has said I was beautiful.
I look down, hoping he doesn’t notice me blushing. “Thank you,” I reply softly before I tuck one side of my hair behind my ear.
He slides my hand in his as he turns and walks into the house, placing my jacket on top of the bottom banister to the winding staircase. “Very regal, Mr. Griffin.” I look up at him. “Has Meadow tried to slide down the railing yet?”
“Not yet,” he says as we walk past his dining room, which has a grand table with a stunning chandelier. My eyes catch the office, and I wonder if he works in there often. “I’ll give you a tour later.” We walk into the family room connected to a massive white kitchen with gray cabinets and stainless-steel appliances.
“This is stunning,” I say as I walk over to the island, running my hand over the white counter with light-gray veins in it. “Very, very sexy.” I look up at him as his eyes shine.
“I’ve never been so jealous of a counter in my life.” He puts his hand on my lower back before bending to kiss my lips. “In case I don’t tell you later or I forget to tell you because I’m so nervous.” He smiles at me shyly, not moving his face away from mine. “I’m happy you came over.” I can’t help the smile that forms on my face with his words.
“I’m happy you asked me,” I say quietly. My hand comes up to hold his face, and my thumb rubs his cheek. “Really, really happy,” I admit, my chest tightening as I lean forward to kiss him softly on the lips.
“If you keep kissing me”—he slides his tongue into mine for a second, sending a shiver up my spine—“we aren’t going to cook anything.”
I laugh as he lets go of my lips and steps away. “I’m trying to decide,” I say as I watch him walk around the island and toward the massive fridge, “if I like the suit Caine or the jeans Caine.” He looks over his shoulder, smirking at me. “I’ll save judgment for the naked Caine.” I wink at him, and he glares. I walk around the island to join him. “Can I help?”
“I don’t think you standing next to me is going to help,” he huffs as he grabs things out of the fridge and places them on the island.
I giggle like a school girl. “I’ll stay on one side, and you can stay on the other,” I barter as he holds my hips to walk around me even though he has enough space to just walk past me. “What are we making?”
“I was thinking we could have some steak.” He opens a couple of drawers, removes some knives, and places them on the counter before grabbing two cutting boards. “I got some shrimp I thought we could throw onto the grill also.”
“Love surf and turf.”
“Are you saying that,” he asks me, putting his hands on his hips, “just to make me feel better?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I actually like steak and shrimp.”
“Good, I started marinating the steak this afternoon and also the shrimp.”
“What can I do to help?” I ask as he walks around the kitchen, grabbing things.
“You can prep the salad while I throw this on the grill,” he states. “How do you like your steak?”
“Medium rare,” I say, and he kisses me chastely before walking out the back door. I walk around the sleek kitchen, washing my hands before making the salad. Looking out the window toward the outside grill, I see him standing there looking even better than he does at the office. I knew the minute the door opened and I saw him there, tonight would be the night. My hands start to shake when I think about it. My stomach feels like it’s going to roam all the way up to my throat, and then my chest compresses at the same time. I’ve never been more nervous in my life. Never. He looks over his shoulder at me, probably feeling me staring at him. His face goes into a smile, and then he winks at me. I have to hold the counter to keep my knees from giving out.
“Can you focus on not making a fool out of yourself?” I mumble to myself as I continue to make the salad. “He’s just a guy.” I toss the cut-up salad in the bowl, adding the tomato and cucumber.
The back door opens, and he comes in with a plate in his hand. “Steak is done,” he announces, putting down the plate on the island.
“I just need to add the dressing,” I say, and he nods.
“Stay here.” He holds up his hand to me and goes to the dining room that we quickly passed when I walked in. He comes out a couple of minutes later. “Okay, you may enter.”
I walk to him as he slides his hand in mine, and I see he’s dimmed the lights and has set two candles in the middle of the table, next to the two table settings. “Sit and I’ll bring the food.” He pulls our joined hands to his lips before walking back to the kitchen.
I sit down in one of the chairs, anxiously waiting for him. He comes in and sets the plates down and goes in and out of the room ten times before coming back and sitting down. “On a scale of one to ten.” I look over at him. “How nervous are you?”
“Seventy-seven,” he answers right away, making me laugh. “And that is high since I cook for a toddler every single day, and when I try something new, I hold my breath, hoping she doesn’t throw it at me.”
“Stop.” I laugh. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“But I did.” He grabs my plate and puts a steak on it with some shrimp. “I should have done more.”
“Like what?” I ask as he hands me my plate.
“Like taking you out and wining and dining you. Instead, we are sitting in the dining room. I forgot the wine.” He pushes his chair back, and I stop him.
“I don’t really drink wine,” I admit, “so this is perfect.”
“You’re just saying that,” he says as he cuts his own steak, “so I don’t feel like a complete and utter loser.”
I shake my head as I cut my steak. “If it makes you feel better,” I state after I chew my steak, “this is the best steak I’ve had in my life.” I lie to him. “The best.”
“I know you’re lying,” he says, chuckling, “and I’m just going to be the big man and pretend you aren’t.”
The meal goes off without a hitch, both of us trying to keep the moment light. I help him clean up the dining room, and he just dumps everything in the sink before grabbing my hand and dragging me to the couch. “I’m not letting you clean my kitchen.”
I tuck my feet underneath me as he sits facing me, my knees at his hip. “But it’s the universal rule,” I remind him. “Whoever doesn’t cook, cleans.”
“But then I’ll get less time to spend with you,” he reasons softly, leaning in and kissing me. “I like how much I like you,” he admits between his little kisses. “I’m crazy about you.” He slides his tongue into my mouth. I arch my back to him, getting up on my knees before he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer to him.
“I like how crazy you drive me,” I confess as I pick up my skirt and then throw my leg over his, straddling him, “at work and out of work.” His hands grip my hips as I kiss him.
“I like how you make me laugh.” His hands move up my back, and I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh.
“When do I make you laugh?” I ask him as I place my hands, palm open, on his chest.
“When you have the snarky comebacks,” he admits, picking up a strand of my hair and twirling it around his finger.
“Did you laugh when I got juice boxes?” I roll my lips when he glares.
“I did not.” He snickers. “I one thousand percent did not like that at all.”
“I like how hard you work.” I kiss his jaw, right before my lips trail kisses to his lips. My tongue comes out to lick his bottom lip before sliding it into his mouth. The kiss is all tongue and hands. I fist his shirt in my hands before getting the courage to pull it up and slipping my hands under it. His stomach contracts at the touch of my hands, my mouth swallowing his groan. I move my head to the other side to deepen the kiss, my body feeling like it’s on fire. I want his hands on every single part of me. He wraps his arms around my waist as he sits up straight and his cock pushes up against my covered clit, sending shivers through my body. He lets go of my lips so he can reach behind him with his free hand and try to rip his shirt over his head. When he takes one second longer than I think is necessary, my hands frantically join his in shedding his shirt.
He tosses his shirt to the side, and all I can do is sit here looking at him. There is no mistaking he is a man’s man. His chest is broad with no chest hair, but then he has a bit of dusting on his stomach going down to below the belt.
“Grace,” he says my name softly as my hands trail over his chest, “you’re killing me.”
“Sorry.” I snatch my hands away from him, and if his arm wasn’t wrapped around my waist, I would jump off his lap and die of embarrassment.
