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His breathing picks up, and he grazes his knuckles over my cheek. “You’ll take me fine. When you’re one hundred percent ready here”—he taps the side of my head— “and here.” He slides his hand between my legs and strokes his fingers against my center.
Feeling brave, I reach down and rub my hand over the rapidly growing bulge in his jeans. “The sheets…that’s why they started asking me about you.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Careful, Muffin.”
“You made me feel good last night. So, so good.” I glance at the clock in the hallway. “Remy probably won’t be back?—”
“No.” The desire burning in his eyes dials down to a simmer. “I need to talk to you about something before he gets home.” He carefully circles my wrist with his fingers and pulls my hand away from his erection.
“What?” All the playfulness between us vanishes. Whatever he wants to tell me seems too serious for me to be sitting in his lap.
Carefully, I slide into the chair next to him and drag it close enough for our knees to touch.
“I didn’t want anything to overshadow your prom.” Griff glances away for a moment, then turns to me with a smile that looks more pained than joyful. “But it’s been killing me not to share this with you.”
An uncomfortable sensation slides down my spine. Griff’s trying to appear cheerful, but it feels off. As if he’s trying to talk himself into believing whatever he’s about to share is positive.
“Okay,” I answer with a slight hesitation to my tone. “You’re not really selling it, though.”
“No, no. In the long run, it’s going to be good for us.” He nods once, still looking like he’s trying to convince himself. “Very good.”
Still not feeling reassured. “What is it?”
He turns so he’s fully facing me and curls his hands around mine. Now there seems to be more genuine excitement lighting up his eyes.
Why is only anxiety churning my stomach?
“This will sound wild, but I was approached to appear on a reality show about underground fighters?—”
“What?” I squeal and throw myself forward and wrap my arms around his neck. “That sounds amazing. Wow…how did that even happen?”
“One of the producers saw some of the videos I’ve done for Sully’s gym.” He shrugs and ducks his head, but a smile still flickers over his lips. “I guess she thought I’d be a good fit.”
I’ve spent more time than I’d ever admit out loud watching those thirst traps Griff’s filmed to help promote his friend’s gym. None of the ones I’ve watched had much to do with fighting. “But they’re workout videos. How’d she know you fight too?”
He frowns for a second. “A lot of them are sparring videos where Remy and I discuss technique and stuff.”
“Oh.” A nervous giggle slips out of me. “I skip the ones that include Remy.” A streak of boldness overtakes me, and I stare him dead in the eyes. “I wasn’t watching for the fitness tips.”
I swear an actual blush creeps over his cheeks. “No? What were you watching them for?”
“You.” I reach for him and press my palm against his chest. He curls his fingers around my wrist and leans in, brushing a soft, ticklish kiss against my pulse point.
“I like that,” he murmurs against my skin.
My heart flutters. What were we talking about?
“Tell me more about the show?” I prompt.
He sits straighter but keeps his hand on mine. “They offered me a spot on a new show. They’re the real deal. They have a bunch of network reality shows.”
“So, it’ll be on television? Not some obscure website or app?”
“Yup.”
“Griff, is that safe? Those shows push drama for ratings. I know the fights at The Castle aren’t ‘legal’ but at least you have rules.”
“This has rules.” He stabs his fingers through his hair. “Trust me, I went through pages and pages of the rules in the contract.”
