Drive Me Wild - Melanie Harlow Page 0,35

life. What are the most important lessons you’ve learned?”

I walked over to the lamp next to the couch and switched it on. “I’ve learned that inner strength is just as important as outer strength, maybe more. I’ve learned that getting attached to people or things or ideas gives them too much power over you. And I’ve learned that the only person you can truly rely on is yourself.”

She stared at me across the room. “Wow, Griffin. That’s really bleak.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said defensively. “It’s practical. And it’s freeing. When you realize that you don’t need anyone else to be happy, you stop feeling like you’re missing something. You stop looking for it. You realize you’re fine with what you have.”

“But how do you keep yourself so unattached?”

“That’s what the rules are for.”

“I take it you’re not a relationship person.”

“Nope.”

“But don’t you get lonely, relying only on yourself for everything?”

“Being alone is not the same as being lonely,” I told her. “I promise you, I’m fine. But if you keep talking like this, I’m going to start calling you Darlene.”

She laughed and put up her hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

“Good.” I moved toward the back hallway, anxious for the conversation to be over. I was talking way too much. “I’ll get a sheet and make up the couch for you.”

“Thanks. Hey, do you think I might be able to take a quick shower?”

“Sure.” I kept moving, ignoring the blood rushing to my crotch. She was going to get naked in my bathroom. She was going to take off every stitch of clothing, get in my shower, and put her hands all over her body. Right where I stood naked earlier and would stand naked tomorrow, jerking off at the thought of it. “I’ll leave a couple towels on the bed for you,” I said, my voice cracking, my dick getting hard.

“Thank you.”

With my breath coming hard, I pulled my two nicest bath towels, the white ones Cheyenne had gotten me for Christmas that had no frayed edges, down from a shelf. I’d never even used them because pure white towels scared me—I’d ruin them in one shower after a day on the job. Running my hand slowly over the top, I couldn’t help thinking that this material was going to be all over her bare skin. Up and down her legs, all over her back and thighs, back and forth across her stomach and ass and breasts. Then she was going to come out of the bedroom all showered and clean and smelling delicious, probably wearing those tiny little shorts and that T-shirt that showed her nipples poking through.

It was going to take the strength of twenty men to keep my hands off her.

I didn’t have it in me.

Eight

Blair

Not gonna lie, I got a kick out of taking off all my clothes in Griffin’s bedroom. I even stood there naked for a minute—the door closed tight, of course—daring him to walk in on me.

He didn’t.

Grabbing the towels off the bed, I hurried into the bathroom. “Que diable, Bisou,” I whispered to the kitten, who was still hiding in her crate. “Why am I acting so crazy?”

The shower felt incredible—I washed my hair, shaved my legs, soaped up and rinsed off two days’ worth of road trip grime and sticky summer sweat. I used my own vanilla bean body wash, but I admit I picked up Griffin’s bar of Lava soap and sniffed it. The scent was subtle, but it was enough to send a tingle directly between my legs.

I thought about those big strong arms . . . was it wrong to want them to manhandle me a little between the sheets? I recalled the way he’d grabbed my elbow and yanked me through his mother’s house today, and my insides caught fire.

He had manners, but he didn’t always use them.

Gah, that was so hot!

I made up my mind—I had to seduce him. But how?

I kept thinking about it while I dried off, rubbed body lotion into my skin, put on my pajamas, and brushed my teeth. In the end, it was my reflection in the mirror that brought me to my senses.

For God’s sake, I was wearing an old Snoopy T-shirt and a faded pair of boy shorts. My hair was soggy, my underwear was plain old granny panty pink cotton—which you could see through a hole in my shorts—and I could no longer afford real pedicures, so my toes felt naked and unsexy.

Everything about me felt unsexy.

Giving up