6. Jordana

6

JORDANA

T he night air stings my face as I make my way home, each step heavier than the last. Griffin’s pain echoes in my mind—not just his words, but the raw hurt in his eyes when I asked him about the items in his truck. God, I can’t believe how thoughtless I was. My stupid need for answers completely ruined the connection we’ve been building.

My chest aches from the loss, my lungs feeling as if they’re unable to draw in air. When did this happen? When did Griffin become as essential as oxygen?

“Jordana! Wait up!”

I barely suppress a groan at the sound of Trey’s voice. When I turn, he’s jogging toward me, his expensive casual wear perfectly coordinated as always.

“I saw what happened.” He doesn’t even try to conceal his giddiness. “That guy showed his true colors, huh? Let me walk you home.”

“I’m fine, Trey.”

He falls into step beside me anyway. “You deserve better than some unstable mountain man. You should be with someone who understands your worth.”

I stop walking and huff out a humorless laugh. “Someone like you?”

“Well, yeah.” He touches my arm. “I’d never storm off and leave you standing alone on the street. Though maybe next time you’ll listen when people warn you about?—”

“Don’t.” I jerk away from his touch. “You don’t know anything about Griffin. And for the record? He’s twice the man you are.”

“Come on, honey. Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not your honey.” My voice is ice cold. “And this conversation is over.”

I leave him standing there, my anger at his presumption mixing with guilt over Griffin until I can barely breathe. By the time I reach my apartment, tears blur my vision. I grab my phone and dial Griffin’s number, but it goes to voicemail.

“Griffin, I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t trust you. Please call me back.”

Days pass. I leave more messages for Griffin, each one met with silence. I throw myself into finishing his engine rebuild, hoping it will take my mind off the awful mess I’ve made. But every bolt I tighten and every component I check reminds me of what I just lost.

When the rebuild is complete, I make one final call. “Hi, Griffin. Your truck is ready. Please come pick it up whenever you can.”

The next morning, heavy footsteps on the garage floor make my pulse jump. Griffin stands in the doorway, wearing a black t-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. The sight of him makes my heart hurt.

“Hi.” My voice comes out too small.

“Hello.” His tone is perfectly polite but completely empty. “I’m here for my truck.”

I walk him through the repairs, pointing out everything I replaced or upgraded. He nods at appropriate moments but doesn’t really look at me. When I hand him the invoice, his fingers carefully avoid touching mine.

“Thanks for the work.” He pulls Betty’s keys from his pocket. “I should mention—your suncatcher's chain snapped the first day I borrowed Betty. I got it fixed at the jeweler’s.” Before I can respond, he adds, “Have a good day.”

And then he’s gone. The rumble of his truck’s engine fades into the distance, taking with it any hope that we can salvage what we had.

With a heavy heart, I climb into Betty’s cab, needing to move her back into my spot. The suncatcher immediately catches my eye. The new chain glimmers in the light, clearly chosen with care. My chest tightens as I imagine Griffin picking it out, wanting to fix what he had accidentally broken.

That evening, I spread his paperwork across my kitchen counter. His address sits there in neat print, staring back at me.

The smart thing would be to let this go. But I don’t care about being smart.

The next morning, I point Betty up the mountain road. Trees crowd closer as I climb higher, their branches creating shifting patterns of sunlight across my windshield. The pavement eventually gives way to gravel, then to dirt. When I spot Griffin’s red truck through the trees, my heartbeat quickens.

He’s outside chopping wood, his powerful arms bare in a sleeveless shirt. The swing of his axe is mesmerizing, each stroke precise and controlled. He stops when he sees me, his expression unreadable.

I step out of my truck. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I needed to see you.”

He drives his axe into the stump. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.” My voice cracks a little as I speak. “Griffin, I’m so sorry for asking you what I did. Please forgive me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His jaw tightens. “You made it clear you don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true.” I take a step closer. “I do trust you.”

“Then why ask about what you found?”

“I don’t know. Because it was something I didn’t understand? Because I didn’t think about what a question like that might mean to you? Because I’m human and make mistakes?”

He stays quiet for a long moment, then his shoulders sag. “Shit. I’m sorry, too. For pushing you away, for letting my emotions get the better of me. And for not answering when you called. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to talk to you—I thought avoiding it would be easier. Honestly, I was just embarrassed by how I acted.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” I take a few steps closer to him. “Can I give you a hug?”

The corner of his mouth gently lifts. “Sure. That’d be nice.”

My heart pounds hard as I close the remaining space between us and wrap my arms around Griffin’s broad shoulders. His arms encircle me immediately, strong and secure, pulling me against his chest. The solid warmth of him surrounds me completely. I breathe in his woodsy scent, relishing how perfectly I fit against him. His heartbeat thuds steadily under my cheek, and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing makes me want to stay in his arms like this forever.

“Friends again?” I murmur against his shirt.

He nods. “Friends again.”

I know I should step back, but I linger in his embrace for a moment longer, memorizing how it feels to be held by him. When I finally make myself pull away, the loss of contact leaves me aching.

Griffin’s eyes hold mine, looking as if they’re searching for something. “Can you stay for a while?”

I nod. Griffin shows me into his cabin, and the second I step inside, the warmth and coziness of his home envelops me. Pine walls rise to exposed wooden beams overhead, and a stone fireplace dominates one wall. His living room is furnished with a comfortable-looking oversized couch, and large windows frame the view of the surrounding forest.

“Your home is beautiful,” I say, my gaze drawn to the wooden staircase curving up to the second floor. “Even the stairs are gorgeous.”

“Let me show you around,” Griffin says.

After showing me the rest of the ground floor, he leads me upstairs, where his home office is. At the end of the hall, a partially open door reveals a glimpse of a spacious bedroom with soft gray walls and a large bed made up in white linens.

“And that’s the tour,” he says quietly.

I turn to face him, and the air between us crackles with tension. My heart races as I study his face, wondering how to bridge this gap between us, how to do what I really want—which is to kiss him. Every cell in my body urges me forward, but uncertainty holds me back.

“About that night at your place,” Griffin says, his voice gentle and deep. “When we were interrupted. Were you relieved?”

My heart skips. I shake my head. “No. I was disappointed.”

“So if I were to kiss you now, that would be okay?”

I laugh—out of relief, out of nervousness, out of joy. “It would absolutely be okay.”

Griffin braces a hand against the doorframe above me and leans in slowly. When his lips meet mine, the kiss is tender—a soft brush that sends warmth blooming everywhere across my body, most of all between my thighs. I exhale a quiet moan against his lips, aching for him so much it hurts.

Griffin pulls back to look into my eyes. His own are heated, and when he swallows, it’s audible. It feels like words are silently passing between us, words we don’t need to say aloud.

I want you. I need you. Take me to bed. Ravish me like I know you want to.

Griffin wets his lips and leans back in, kissing me again. This time it’s not so gentle. It’s hotter. More desperate. A little rough. I run my hands up his chest, savoring the hard planes of his body, the pure muscle beneath his shirt.

His hands fall to my hips, squeezing my curves. Together, we stumble into his bedroom, blindly making our way to his bed. As our kisses deepen, we tug off each other’s clothes, throwing each piece aside until we’re bare skin against bare skin.

Griffin falls onto the edge of his bed, pulling me onto his wide lap. I moan as he pushes a hand between us, easily finds my clit, and starts to stroke it with the most perfect amount of pressure.

I break our kiss to gasp for air. Still stroking my clit, Griffin looks up at me with a mixture of awe and desire. Then he dips his head, capturing one of my hardened nipples between his thick lips. With a moan, I push my tit against his mouth, my pleasure intensifying as he sucks and licks.

It doesn’t take me long to come. The orgasm that sears through me leaves me even wetter than I was before, and when I watch Griffin lift his fingers to his lips and suck them clean, the desire I have for him becomes relentless. I grind down against his massively hard cock, desperate for him to fuck me.

“ Griffin ,” I beg. “ Please. ”

He insists on another kiss before reaching between us and fisting his cock. When he pushes the swollen head of it into my pussy, I gasp at how big he is. Then he gives me another inch, and another inch, sliding deeper and deeper until he’s fully seated inside me.

“Fuck, Jordana. Fuck , you feel incredible,” he rasps. His hands grip my hips firmly as he slowly pumps up into me, stuffing me full with each thrust. I can’t even form words, I’m too lost in the bliss of it all.

He drives into me over and over again, claiming me with every deep stroke, finally making real what we’ve both wanted so badly. Whatever resistance we both felt before, it’s vanquished. Nothing is going to stop us from having each other now.

Griffin rolls us over on the bed, pinning me beneath him and moving over me, all muscular protective strength. I cup his face in my hands as he thrusts harder into me, our hot skin slapping, our moaning sweetening the air.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says roughly.

I gasp for breath, feeling another orgasm swell inside me. His cock slams into me again, pulsing, ready to explode.

“Jordana, come for me.”

My thighs start shaking. My heart is pounding like crazy. I can barely breathe.

“Griffin!” I sob, coming again, even harder this time. And this time, he comes with me, letting out a roar as he fills me up.