Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Eww, that’s gross.”
He hums a sound of agreement. “I was there with one goal—to win fights. I learned and trained. That’s it. The rest was noise to me.”
I stare at him, trying to sense any hint that he’s lying. But Griff’s never been a liar.
“You have more in common with her,” I say quietly.
He frowns. “Who?”
“That woman.” I wave my hands in the air, refusing to utter her stupid name again. “She’s your age. She wanted to run her own business the way you do…”
“Congratulations, you know more about her than I do.” He scowls and rests his hand on my leg again. “Molly, I know I’m not perfect. I wish I’d done a few things differently. But I don’t want anyone else. Never have. Not for one second. You were always the only woman on my mind.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Griff
Hours later, after leaving things unfinished with Molly, I’m downstairs on the couch in the basement, watching an old boxing match with the volume down low.
Our conversation keeps replaying over and over. The car, I understand why she’s upset, probably still embarrassed. I hope what I said soothed those concerns for her.
But the text? Based on the response she sent, I figured whatever had been sent to Molly had been a childish “he’s mine” text. Not a jab at something more personal. For months, Molly’s been thinking that not only did I sleep with another woman, but I trashed-talked her while I was doing it. No wonder she’s been so uneasy around me.
Thank fuck she finally told me about it. I hope to hell she believed me. That has to be the final thing holding her back, right?
Something creaks above me. I cock my head and mute the television. Is that the back door opening?
Ten to one says it’s not an intruder, but I ease off the couch anyway. Can’t take any chances with Molly in the house.
I take the stairs two at a time and push the basement door open. The kitchen’s empty and dark. My eyes take a second to adjust.
As I expected, the back door’s ajar.
A small shadow sits on the back steps. Faint moonlight illuminates her shoulders and hair tied back in a low ponytail. Molly. What the hell’s she doing out there in the dark?
Don’t spook her.
I twist the screen doorknob slowly, but still make some noise, so I don’t startle her, and step outside. The cool night air hits me in the face. Way too cold for her to be out here. She’s on the second step, knees drawn up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her legs. The wooden planks of the porch are rough against the bottoms of my feet as I shuffle closer to her.
I’m done restraining myself. Finished with keeping my hands off of her.
I step down, bracketing her hips with my feet and lower myself to the top step, then wrap as much of my body as possible around her.
“Aren’t you cold, baby?” I ask.
She hugs herself tighter, not really accepting my embrace, but not pushing me away either. A soft sigh eases out of her, and she rests her cheek on her knees. “No.”
“What’re you doing out here all alone?”
“Thinking.”
About us? Does she finally believe me? Or is she out here thinking of a permanent way to tell me to fuck off?
“Mind if I sit with you?” I ask.
“You already are.”
I chuckle softly. “Fair.”
In the distance, an owl hoots his persistent mournful question, but Molly seems to have her own questions.
“You really didn’t tell that woman anything about me?” she asks.
That’s what has her up in the middle of the night? “No, Muffin. When she hinted that she was interested in me, I stone-cold turned her down. I never knew she was talking shit in her confessionals. I don’t even think it was about me.”
“What do you mean?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “At the last fight, Naptime passed out after the judges’ decisions were read. She rushed into the cage and dropped to her knees next to him like her favorite cat had just been run over.”
Molly doesn’t laugh. “Huh.”
After that we’re quiet. What else can I do or say to help her understand how much I love her?
She continues staring into the shadowy backyard. I stare at her. At her tank top with the thin straps that tie at the top of each shoulder, reminding me of her prom dress. Just like that night, I’m dying to tug on the end of one of the bows and pull it loose.
Instead, I trace my finger over her shoulder. How is her skin always so soft and smooth?
She lifts her head and tilts sideways to look at me. “That tickles.”
“Yeah?” I wrap her ponytail around my hand and gently tug her head to the side. “How about this?” I lean in and brush my lips against her neck, finally tasting the salt of her skin after all this time. “That tickle too?”