“Well, then you’re going to have to either stick around for dinner or come back tomorrow so I can prove you wrong.” He stares at me expectantly, waiting on my answer.
“All right, almighty grill master. You tell me when to be here, and we’ll make it happen. I need to taste this steak I can cut with a fork.”
“He’s telling you the truth,” Oliver speaks up. “His dad is a chef, so he’s taught him a thing or two. Hell, he’s taught me a thing or two,” he admits.
“Good to know.” I nod.
“It’s all in the preparation and seasoning. We better count on dinner tomorrow night to give me time to prepare. I need to make sure I’m at my best,” Griffin suggests.
“Tomorrow night it is,” I agree.
I’m sitting sideways on his lap, and he leans in close. “How about just the two of us?” he asks.
“You wanting me all to yourself?” I tease.
“Yes.” There is not one single ounce of hesitation in his reply.
“Date number two?”
He smiles. “Date number two.”
“You want to go for a swim?” Griffin asks.
After we ate, he led me to the lounge chair I was sitting in earlier and pulled me next to him. We’ve been curled up watching our friends ever since.
“It is hot as hell out here.” I’m burning up, but I didn’t want to move from his arms either.
“I thought that was just because I was holding you.”
“Smooth.” I shake my head with a laugh.
“What?” He feigns innocence. “It’s hot out here, and we were so close our body heat made it worse.”
“Uh-huh, good attempt at a cover-up.”
He gives me a cheeky grin. “All a part of my master plan. Get you all hot and sweaty,” he says huskily. “Only to be able to cool you off.”
Before I can stop him, he’s lifting me into his arms, and then we’re running. He doesn’t pause before he launches his body and, by default, mine as I’m in his arms, over the side of the pool and into the deep end.
He releases me once we hit the water, and we both swim to the surface. “Not cool, Griffin Anthony. Not cool.”
He swims closer. “Let me make it up to you.” Gripping my waist, he pulls me close, and on instinct, I wrap my arms and legs around him while he keeps us afloat. He somehow manages to swim us to the shallow end of the pool, where he’s able to stand. Then again, it might not be as shallow as I think. Griffin is well over six feet tall. His shallow and my five-foot-six shallow have different meanings.
“Not cool,” I say again. My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It’s all breathy and seductive.
“I wish I could say I was sorry,” he says, tightening his hold on my thighs. “But it got you here, and I can’t be sorry about that.”
Despite being in the pool, my body is still heated, and I know it’s from his touch. He seems to be unaffected by my nearness, so I decide to try to level the playing field. Squeezing my legs tighter around his waist, I grind my core against him.
“Peyton,” he groans.
“Yes?” I ask. My voice is the epitome of innocence. For the first time today, I feel as though I finally have the upper hand. That is until he adjusts his hips, and I can feel his hard length. We have two very thin layers of fabric separating us. It makes it easy to feel all of him.
“Oh,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Peyton,” he breathes, resting his forehead against mine. “You drive me crazy.”
“You’re hard to resist too,” I say with a giggle.
His laugh is low and deep. “I can’t help it. Not where you’re concerned.”
I pull back to look into his eyes. “So, you’re telling me that this…” I wiggle my hips, and he groans. “Only happens with me?”
“No,” he confesses. “But then again, you’re the only girl I’ve had here in my pool and in my arms at the same time.”
“Right.” I laugh. “Come on now. Be real with me.”
“We’ve had parties here, but I’ve never been with anyone during any of them. Not like this.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I don’t know how to explain it without sounding like a conceited jerk.”
“Try me.”
He nods. “I’ve always been good at baseball. College scouts started coming to my games when I was a freshman in high school. Some girls catch on that something bigger than who’s dating who that week is going on, and they want to latch on and ride the coattails to fame and fortune.”
“I understand that more than you think.”
“Yeah.” He smooths my hair back out of my eyes. “I’m guessing that you do. Anyway, my high school coach, Coach Ratliff, was big on lecturing us. Don’t be stupid. Wrap it before you tap it, watch your back, all those kinds of things. He was more than just a coach, he was a mentor of sorts. He preached to us about being careful.”