Illusive (Storm MC 5)

I tilted my head. “You know, just quietly, I’m liking this sense of humour thing you’ve got going on. I would so not have picked it from you, but that’s one of the things I like about you the most – I never know what’s coming next. And while we’re talking, can I just say – I don’t know where you keep your comb or your brush, but you seriously need to consider keeping it in the bathroom, because when a woman looks how I looked when I woke up this morning, she needs something to fix her hair with, and while my fingers did the trick this morning, they didn’t really cut it, if you know what I mean. This hair would look so much better if I could have run a brush through it.”

He glanced at my hair for a second and then his eyes found mine again. “I see the regrouping has taken place,” he murmured, his voice deeper, more gravelly than before.

“Well, I’m not sure about that, but the thing about the brush needed to be said.”

“I’ll take it under advisement, sweetheart. I’ve never had an issue like this before…never had a woman wake up next to me in this bed.”

Oh. My.

His words caused me to falter. More regrouping would need to take place now.

He watched me, waiting for me to reply, and when I didn’t, he added, “And for the record, there was no need to run your fingers through your hair. Bedhead suits you.”

God, he was killing me this morning. My heart almost swelled out of my chest with happiness.

His phone sounded with a text, and while he kept one hand firmly on my back, he reached for his phone with the other. I watched his beautiful face while he read the message, taking in the lines across his forehead that etched his thoughts onto his face, and the stubble he always wore, and those green eyes of his that held all his pain. Griff’s was a face I could study for hours. I watched it now as he processed the message, and I knew that whatever that text contained, it hadn’t been good news for him. Not if the way the lines and twitches on his face were anything to go by.

He placed his phone back on the bedside table and eyed me. “You working today?” And just like that, he seemed to compartmentalise the parts of his life. It was as if he’d swept aside whatever he’d just read so he could focus on me, not even allowing his emotions about the text message to touch his mind.

“Yes, unfortunately.” I decided not to acknowledge the text or his feelings on it. I figured Griff was a man of so many layers, and it was going to take me awhile to peel each layer back. I also figured he wasn’t the kind of man who would let a woman rush that process, so I was going to have to be patient.

“I’ll take you to work and pick you up,” he stated, and his tone told me there would be no arguing.

“That’s a nice offer, but you seem to have forgotten that I don’t have any clothes here. Not to mention, a brush, or makeup, or any of that stuff a girl kinda needs to get ready for work.” I couldn’t help tease him, but seriously, did he think women just got out of bed and were ready for work?

His eyes flashed a mixture of heat and frustration. And then he shifted so he could move me off his lap and deposit me on the bed next to him. He left the bed and eyed me. “I’m gonna get your clothes, you’re gonna get dressed, and then I’m gonna follow you to your house.” He raised his brows. “Where you can use your brush and makeup and all that stuff you think you need to make yourself beautiful. And then, I’m gonna put you on the back of my bike and take you to work. Where you can regroup and get that gorgeous mouth of yours ready to give me more of the smart-ass I love from it.” He paused for a moment before he asked, “You good with that?”

Oh, he had no idea how good I was with that.

I nodded. “I’m good with that.”

“Thank fuck,” he muttered. Then he turned and left the room to go in search of my clothes.

And I sat and waited while my heart did the jig in my chest.

This man.

Oh, my.

* * *

Griff followed me to my house, however as we were walking inside, he received another text message. This one caused him to swear and then he gave me a regretful look. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’ve gotta head out and take care of something for work.”

“It’s only just after six in the morning. Do you often get called out at that time of the day?”

“Some days, yes.”

Disappointment filled me, but seeing his regret made it okay. It wasn’t as if he wanted to leave. “Will I see you tonight?”

He put his hand out. “Pass me your phone. And yes, you’ll see me tonight.”

I gave him my phone and he keyed in his number and then sent himself a text. As he handed it back, h

e bossed me, “Use that number if you need it. I’m only a phone call away.”

I smiled at him, loving his bossiness and what it told me about him – he wanted me. Pressing myself against him, I said, “You should go before I decide not to let you go.”

His hands landed on my ass and his lips brushed mine. “I’ll see you later,” he promised, and I nodded, fully intending to make him keep that promise.