Intuition (9 page)

“You're not going to tell them, are you?”

“I am,” she says, glancing at Owen. “But not right away. And you better not either.”

I sit at the table, my appetite suddenly gone, not wanting to make any more promises I'm not sure I can keep. Kat's right—she's eighteen and can do whatever she wants. She can meet a guy, go out with him for a couple of weeks, and fly halfway across the world to live with him, while I have to fight to stay out past midnight.

“I won't tell,” I say, taking another sip of my drink. “But you can't just leave me here to deal with it all. You have to tell them before you go.”

“Don't worry. I'll tell them before I go.” She looks at Owen
again and giggles. “Right before. Maybe I'll call them on the way to the airport. I can't believe I'm actually going to live in London!”

London. The Tower of London was where everything changed just a few short months ago. I glance out the window, my heart thumping, but at the telephone pole across the street there's nothing but a bunch of flyers flapping in the wind.

Griffon's house is dark as we walk up to the porch. Besides his bike, the driveway is empty, no sign of the red truck anywhere. “What's going on? Is Janine out?”

“All night.” A sly grin spreads across Griffon's face. “She's at a conference in LA. We have the whole place to ourselves.”

My insides flutter at the thought of being with him all night. Of waking up next to him tomorrow morning with his body curled around mine. Of everything that can happen in between. “I might have to unexpectedly be spending the night at Rayne's.”

He smiles wide. “That would be great. Will your parents buy it?”

I shrug. Ever since Kat's big announcement at the restaurant last night, I seem to care a little less if they're mad at me. “It happens enough so that they won't get suspicious. I think they're
having dinner together again tonight, so they'll probably be happy to have me out of the house.”

“You think they're getting back together? That's so cute.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I'm not sure about cute. I'm not sure they're getting back together either, just that they're hanging out a lot more than they used to.” As much as I'd like for them to live together again, the thought that they might be doing more than just having dinner or going to the theater makes me a little nauseous.

Griffon unlocks the front door. “Wait here just a second,” he says as he ducks inside. Something smells good, filling the house like it's been cooking all day. I hear him flip a switch, and in an instant the hallway and living room are rimmed with tiny clear lights that are hung everywhere. The effect is like soft candlelight.

“Oh wow!” He's got them strung through the banister all the way up to the second floor. “Is that a hint?”

He looks confused. “Is what a hint?”

“The lights on the stairs. They look like runway markers pointing the way to your bedroom.”

Griffon laughs. “You have a dirty mind. I didn't really think of it that way, but now that you mention it . . .” He kicks the door shut behind us and swoops down to pick me up as he heads for the stairs. At the bottom step, he sets me down. “I'm just kidding.”

I suppress a smile and fix him with my best stare. “I'm not.” I grab his hand and pull him up the stairs to the landing.

Griffon laces his fingers through mine and bends down to kiss me. Just the slightest touch sends shivers through my body as if everything is on high alert tonight.

“I really did make you dinner,” he says. “I'm an excellent cook.”

“I bet you are,” I answer, my words coming slowly as my body's reactions take over. “But right now, I want something else.” There's a question in Griffon's eyes as I lead him up the rest of the stairs, and I know he's worried about pushing me too fast.

Griffon turns on the small desk lamp and his room is bathed in soft light. His bed is actually made this time, with a comforter and pillows propped up against the headboard. I have a suspicion that he might have even changed the sheets. The idea that he thought we'd end up here turns some of my excitement into nerves.

He walks over to where I'm standing next to the bed, and I feel suddenly awkward and unsure of myself. I've pictured this in my head a million times, but in the last few moments it's like my body has no idea what to do. Griffon inhales deeply as he kisses me, as if he's trying to imprint this on all of his senses. I close my eyes and kiss him back, relaxing a little as instinct starts to take over. My hands move under his shirt to feel his warm skin—we came up here so fast we're both still wearing our jackets. Griffon shrugs his off with one quick movement, but kisses my neck slowly as he pulls my leather jacket off one arm at a time and drops it onto the floor.

We separate, but the vibrations between us are so insistent that I can sense them even when we're not touching. Griffon sits on the bed and kicks his shoes off, reaching up with one hand to pull me down with him. A giggle escapes as I sit down next to him and I'm instantly embarrassed. “Sorry. I guess I'm just nervous.”

“It's okay,” he says. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to do.” I'm sure lots of guys have said this in a similar situation, but I can tell from his face that he actually means it.

I want to take control of things, to show him how much I want him with me. To show him that Drew means nothing to me. With everything I've been remembering about my past, I feel older in a lot of ways, like tiny pieces of those experiences are making an impression on who I am today. I'm not feeling all that much like the sixteen-year-old I see in the mirror anymore. “I do want to. All I want is to be with you.”

Griffon leans back against the pillows and I straddle his body, undoing each button on my shirt as he watches, not saying a word. Despite his silence, I can see him fighting for control, and I feel powerful with every gesture. When my shirt's undone, he reaches up with two fingers and eases it off my shoulders until there's nothing left but my ankh and the black lacy bra I stole from Kat ages ago, hoping for an occasion when someone besides me would see it.

Griffon's hand trembles slightly as he reaches up and strokes my neck, working his way down to my stomach and the top of my jeans. “You are so beautiful. The best part of every day is when I catch a glimpse of you, even if it's just for a few moments.”

In response, I ease his T-shirt up over his head and toss it onto the floor, biting my lip at the sight of the smooth brown skin that seems to shine in the dim light. I reach out to touch the muscles on his stomach, feeling his desire as if it's a caress washing over me in waves, and the intensity of it scares me. All of a sudden I want this part to be over, to be on the other side of the big event so that we can move forward together. It's not that
I don't want Griffon to be my first time, because I do; it's just that there's so much expectation put on one moment in time that my heart starts to beat hard with anxiety.

Griffon pulls me to him, oblivious of the conflict going on inside my head. I try to quiet my fears and focus on the sensations, knowing I won't ever forget any of it, so I don't want to ruin it by thinking too much. I close my eyes and try to surrender myself to his touch, to the vibrations between us that are increasing by the second.

In the middle of a kiss, Griffon tilts his head back and looks me in the eyes, his thumb stroking the back of my neck. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can without sounding forced. “Of course.”

I lean in to kiss him again, but Griffon pushes himself into a sitting position on the pillows. “I'm no empath, but I can tell you're lying.”

I can't meet his eyes, knowing that I'm blowing what is supposed to be one of the most special moments in our lives. “I'm not lying. Everything's fine. I want to do this, I already told you.”

“I hear you saying it, but I don't believe you. Cole, if you're not ready for this, we can wait. It's no big deal. I want to
be
with you. Not just have sex with you.”

“I'm totally screwing this up,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning my back to him. “You went to all this trouble, and I'm sitting here second-guessing everything. I want to be with you. All the way. It's just . . .”

“It's just that you're not totally ready,” he finishes for me.
“And I didn't go to all this trouble only to get you into bed.” He reaches out and tilts my head toward him. “Although, don't get me wrong, it's pretty much all I think about these days.” His grin eases the guilt, but I know that he's telling the truth. “I did this so that we could spend an evening alone, have some good food, and let the rest of it happen when it happens.” Griffon pulls me back down onto the bed and I ease myself into the natural curve of his body, my back pressing into his chest as he puts one leg around mine in a comforting knot. For the first time tonight, I relax and enjoy the feeling of his skin next to mine, not worrying about the expectations that might come with it.

We must have dozed off, because when I open my eyes again, the bedside clock says 10:34. It takes a quick second to remember where I am, but Griffon's easy breathing and his strong arm around my waist brings everything back. I shift carefully in the bed so that I can watch him while he sleeps, the long dark lashes brushing his cheeks and his fingers twitching slightly as he dreams. I reach up and touch one of the tight curls that cover his head. He's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, and I make a quick wish that I can spend many more nights exactly like this. I ease myself into the crook of his arm so that I can feel his heart beating until he stretches and I can tell he's awake too.

“Hey there,” Griffon says, his voice soft from sleep and a wide grin on his face. He kisses my neck and echoes my thoughts. “I want to wake up like this every day.”

“I was just thinking the very same thing.” I put my head onto his bare chest, amazed at how well we fit together. We stay like
that, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts, until I glance at his clock again and realize another half hour has gone by.

“I should go,” I say, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

“Why?” Griffon pushes himself up against the headboard. He lifts my hand and kisses the palm, an old-fashioned gesture that somehow works for him. “I'd love it if you'd stay. Plus I'm starving, and we haven't eaten yet.”

The thought of spending the entire night in his arms is tempting. And I am pretty hungry. “Are you sure? Even without . . . you know.”

Griffon laughs. “Yes. Even without ‘you know.' I'm going to run downstairs and get the food. You just stay there and look beautiful in my bed for a few more minutes.” He glances back at me. “Is it wrong that I love how that sounds?”

I stretch my arms over my head and arch my back, feeling his eyes on my body, knowing the effect it's having on him. “I love it too.”

Griffon shakes his head. “You are making it so difficult to leave this room. Don't move. I'll be right back.”

After a few quick texts to Mom, my plans for the night are set with surprisingly little effort. I realize I'm still wearing just my jeans and bra, so I reach onto the floor and grab one of Griffon's T-shirts, the spicy scent of him surrounding me as I pull it over my head and settle back onto the pillows.

Olivia runs down the hallway of the studio and smacks right into Herr Steinberg. The top of her blond head barely comes to his shoulder, and I can imagine what's going through her mind as she tilts back to look up at him, her green eyes wide with fear. As much as I love him, Steinberg scared the crap out of me when I was her age.

“Are you in a race, Ms. Miller?” Herr Steinberg asks, looking straight down at her, his face serious.

Olivia's voice is brave as she answers, “No, sir. Just thirsty. Miss Nicole said I could go get some juice. Sir.”

“You may continue,” Steinberg says, his eyes stern. “But you will walk in my studio from now on.” I have no idea how he's keeping a straight face. I have to hide my smile behind the sheet music in my hand.

“Yes, sir,” Olivia says. She looks back down the hallway at
me and I nod toward the lounge. She doesn't need to be told twice and takes off with a walk so fast it makes her whole body wiggle.

I take a deep breath before calling Zander into the practice room. “Ready?” I say to him with a smile plastered on my face. I have no idea whether my plan is going to work or blow up in my face.

He grunts and drags his cello into the room as I shut the soundproof door behind us.

“Wait a second,” I say, as he starts to unlatch his case. “For the first part of the lesson, we're going to listen, not play.”

Zander pauses and looks at me suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

I pull out my phone. “Well, I know that the cello isn't exactly your favorite thing.”

Zander gives a snorting laugh in response. “You think?”

I glance up at the window in the practice-room door. “And I also know that your mom is going to keep dragging you here no matter how much either of us complains about it.” I tap the screen on the phone. “So I thought I'd make you a deal. I'll only teach you to play cool new music instead of the classical stuff you hate if you try not to be such a jerk about it.”

That gets him to break into a tiny smile, and I feel almost rewarded. “Like, what kind of music?”

“Well, lots of musicians are doing amazing things with the cello these days.” I hit Play on the video I've loaded. “Like this woman. Her name's Rebecca Roudman. This is my favorite song she does—it's a cover called ‘Sweet Child of Mine.' “

Zander scoots his chair over so that he can see the small
screen better. As he tilts his head down near mine, I get that particular little-boy smell of sweat, dirt, and something almost innocent coming off of him. He doesn't say anything as we watch her destroy the song on her cello, and when it's done he looks up at me. “What kind of cello was that?”