Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

“Morning.” He bites his bottom lip, making him look a decade younger than his actual age, and making me feel like we’re almost on even footing.

“Morning.” My voice is ridiculously breathy.

“You ready to have some fun?”

“I’m ready for some coffee.”

“There’s one waiting for you in the car.”

“Seriously?” I cut in front of him and try to open the door, but it only unlocks with his fingerprint.

His chest presses against my back, and his lips ghost the shell of my ear as he pushes my hand out of the way and opens the passenger door, but only an inch since he’s right behind me and there’s nowhere for me to go. “I see what gets you moving.”

“Coffee is my best friend.” I nudge him with my butt, but he doesn’t back off.

His free hand rests on my hip, and his lips travel along my neck. I braided my hair so it’s off my face and out of the way. “Do you have any idea what a temptation you are, Cosy? These fucking shorts are probably going to kill me today.”

“They cover everything.”

“Barely.” He runs a finger along the hem, and I shiver.

“It’s going to be hot today.”

“You only have yourself to blame if I knock out some asshole’s teeth for staring at your assets.”

I turn to face him, trapped between the car and his body. “How very caveman of you.”

He lifts a shoulder in an unapologetic shrug. “I blame testosterone and a fragile ego.”

I laugh, because what other reaction is there. “Since when is your ego fragile? Look at you.” I run my hands over his solid chest. He’s wearing another obscure band T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. I don’t know how he manages to pair preppy with rocker-hipster and still look posh as fuck, but he does.

His expression shutters for a moment before he smiles, but it seems tense. “That’s a story for another day. We should get going; we don’t want to be late.”

The door bumps my ass, and he steps back, giving me room to move forward, but keeping me in his personal space. I wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine. Usually I let him lead, probably subconsciously, but today I’m feeling some sort of odd power shift, and I want to take advantage of it.

His fingers dig into my hip, and our tongues dance for several long beats before he finally pulls back. “I probably look like the worst stereotype in the world right now. Get in the car please, Cosy.”

I don’t fight him on it. There’s coffee in the car and lots of time for making out in places that aren’t the middle of the street. Griffin tosses my bag in the back and slides into the driver’s seat. He taps the coffee in the front holder. “This one is yours. I hope I got it right.”

I buckle up and pick up the takeout cup, taking a test sip as he pulls into traffic. It’s a latte, and it’s exactly how I like it. I check the sticker on the side. One pump of vanilla, nonfat, double espresso. “Good work.”

He grins and shifts gears. I don’t know why even that makes me hot. “I did okay, then?”

“You did better than okay. This is perfect.”

“You’re perfect.”

I snort. “Oh my God. You need to drop all the lines today. The surprise and the latte are enough.”

“It’s not a line, Cosy. If I had a checklist with boxes to tick off, you would be the person who appeared at the end of the quiz as my perfect match.”

I have no idea what to say to that, especially since he doesn’t crack a smile.

He threads his fingers through mine. “Sorry, I’m being all serious. I’ll stop. You look delicious this morning, and I’m excited to spend the day with you.” He kisses my knuckle.

“I’m looking forward to spending the day with you too. Wanna tell me where we’re going now?”

“Not a chance. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough, anyway.” He gives my hand a squeeze as we merge onto the freeway.

It isn’t until we pull into one of the popular and very exclusive helicopter landing pads in the area that I finally realize what his plan is. “Oh my God! Are we being tourists today?”

He shifts into park and cuts the engine. “Have you been on a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon before?”

“Oh my God! No way!” I’ve always wanted to, but it’s so expensive and dropping $500 so I can fly over a giant hole in the ground seems like a very frivolous expense since the crater has essentially been in my backyard my entire life.

“Yes, way.”

I unbuckle my seat belt and awkwardly try to hug him—it’s not easy with the stick shift and the confined space. He laughs and his lips find my neck.