"You kissed him?"

  "Yes, I think so," I mumbled.

  "You let him take your clothes off...Or, at the very least, your shirt," he pointed out, referencing the pictures that had been splayed across the news.

  "Yes, but the only reason that I know that either of those things happened is because of the media," I said desperately. “I don’t actually remember them happening.”

  There were moments of silence that seemed to last forever. I wished that I could provide him with more, provide myself with more, but I couldn't. No amount of trying would conjure events that desperately clung to anonymity. And wouldn't Mick have said something by now if we had? Or made more advances if we hadn't? Nothing could explain waking up in a strange bed, wrapped up in twisted sheets, more than sex. I had to believe what I didn't want to, what made me sound awful…What made me feel awful. I had drank too much and made some stupid decisions. Decisions that now stood between me and the first man to pique my interest in some time.

  "I know what you must think of me. I know how this makes me look," I rushed to defend, surprised at the emotions peeking through. For the first time since I could remember, the consequences of my carelessness extended beyond me. For the first time I cared what someone else thought, and it sucked that I couldn't change that opinion if it happened to be negative. It sucked that I cared. "I'm not that person. Yes, I've been known to drink too much. Yes, I fly by the seat of my pants. But I don't normally do things that would risk my career. And I can't, for the life of me, remember sleeping with Mick."

  "Maybe you didn't."

  "Griff," I said hesitating. Although his train of thought was exactly what I hoped, getting ahead of ourselves, thinking wishfully, would only lead to disappointment. No, it was better if we assumed the worst because then it wouldn't hurt when it wound up being true. At least, that was the way I'd plowed through life in the past.

  "Just humor me for a moment," he said, his hand clamping over mine. "You don't remember kissing him or sleeping with him, right?"

  "I…no," I confirmed.

  "So, you don't know for sure if you two actually…"

  "I thought I already told you that. I have no way of knowing that we actually had sex. I just woke up, at your house, naked and assuming…"

  His hand left mine, my mind processing the absence. He clasped his hands together between his legs, elbows resting on thighs as he bounced the laced fingers up and down. He shook his head irritably, confused. "Surely not," he whispered to himself. "But why?"

  "Griff?" I questioned. "Care to enlighten me?"

  "That sonofabitch," he mumbled, the anger brewing within translating onto his face.

  "Griff," I repeated.

  "You didn't sleep together," he said, turning to me. His opinion of the situation was absolute. He believed in its truth and I could do little more than look at him skeptically.

  "Griff, I want to believe that. Trust me, I do, but I just can't."

  "You don't know him. You don't know the lengths he'd go to if…" he trailed off.

  "If what?" I questioned, beyond confused.

  "If you had slept together, he'd be done, over it like everything else he does. Mick lives life for the thrill, not because he actually appreciates meaningful relationships. It's all about the present, capitalizing on the moment consequences be damned," he explained. I fought back the lump in my throat. It sounded like he was describing me. No way in hell would I admit to that because the description sounded so awful. "His uncharacteristic overcompensation in pursuing you could easily be attributed to him not getting what he wanted from you."

  "Believing that would definitely simplify things for us, but-"

  "Look, Mick has never brought anyone home. No one. He was trying to wow you, to impress you. He hadn't had you yet so he couldn't bring himself to dump you. So, he brought you home thinking that the gesture would entice you, make you feel connected to him."

  "That is the most ridiculous thing that I've ever heard. Do you realize how that makes him seem? He is famous. He is sought after, adored, dreamt of by most women in America. Why would it matter if one girl, if one specific woman didn't sleep with him?"

  "Yes, I do know how it makes him look and it'd matter a lot," he said, answering my questions in the order they were fired. "A man that gets whatever he wants…Whoever he wants finally doesn't?" he said, pausing, smiling at his realizations. "It would matter way more than someone like you or I could fathom. Thing is, I know him and he's just the type of person who would enjoy the pursuit, enjoy the challenge."

  "So, if what you're saying is true, then he lured me onto his bus, tried to have sex with me, got frustrated because we didn't, brought me to the home that he half owns to impress me, got mad because he woke up to our chemistry and continues to pursue me because, in his mind, due to my lack of interest I'm now somehow the Holy Grail." I couldn't help but feel like we were grasping at straws. Albeit, very enticing straws, but doubtful ones nonetheless.

  "Exactly. And if he thought for one moment that I was interested, he'd be that much more apt to pursue it."

  Could he really have a point? Jealousy certainly could be a motivator. Jealousy had landed people starring roles on the television show Snapped. And it didn't sound completely ludicrous considering how at odds the two of them were. I'd need some time to wrap my mind around it. I wasn't opposed to buying into the theory, but I preferred concrete evidence.

  I had some questions for Mick it seemed.

  "What if we're wrong? What if I really did sleep with him? What if…"

  "Why don't you just ask him," he urged, cutting in.

  "Griff-" I said apprehensively.

  "Kennedy, I don't like to share." He had grown downright serious, the words coming out as a growl. "And since I've come to the realization that I can't keep my hands off of you, I'm sure as hell not going to share with Mick."

  His possessiveness curled around me, making me feel things that I couldn't process, didn't understand. It presented emotions that I wasn't comfortable with, made me want to run yet at the same time, enticed me. The dichotomy of the struggling emotions was staggering. "We're not together," I pointed out. "You don't have any claim over me or me, you."

  My words were a lie, something said mostly out of confusion and I regretted them as soon as they left my lips. Shamefully - truthfully - I'd be his whatever as long as he'd have me. I wasn't sure of a lot of things where Griff Callahan was concerned, but I was certain of this: I wanted him and was absolutely powerless to stop it.

  His eyes went heavy, narrowing as they fixed on me. "Sure as hell didn't feel like it when your legs were wrapped around me so tightly I could barely breathe. Or when your thighs spread wide so I could step in between them. Or when your back arched towards me as cries of pleasure fell from your lips when I kissed your nipples." The growl reigned supreme, his voice bouncing off of the walls. "Let me tell you something, Kennedy. If you think that was good, just wait until you see what else I have in store for you, what else I have planned for us. You'll be begging me for more, screaming my name in your sleep because you'll want it so bad."

  "I'm sorry," I mumbled, his words leaving me in a hot stupor.

  "You're going to be sorry," he informed me, his hands finding either side of my neck. He brought my face close to his angrily, possessively, his thumbs pressing down over my cheekbones. "Sorry I wasn't your first and begging me to be your last," he mumbled. His eyes stared at my lips hungrily, my brain processing his tongue sliding over his. "Tell me what you want, Kennedy," he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper, his anger seeping through making his gruff voice shaky.

  "I-I don't know," I stuttered.

  He jerked my body suddenly, my eyes widening in surprise.

  "I-you," I managed, the words tumbling out as if he’d shook them from me.

  "No part of you wants him? Not even the smallest inkling? You better let me know if you do and I'll walk away right now." I could hear the bitterness in his voice, the poison that the thought provoked.

  "You…only you. I don't know beyond that," I admitted hesitantly, wanting to say the right thing without give away too much.

  "In what way?"

  "Griff, please stop. You're making me uncomfortable."

  "Oh, like the erection that I've had since you showed up in my kitchen with that damned silk robe on and nothing else? Or the fact that I can't fucking sleep because every time that I do, all I can see is you and that robe and your nipples, hard and erect and so damned perfect-"

  "Griff, I said I'm serious, okay?"

  "You better not be messing with my head, Kennedy."

  His temper was spiking and my inability to be clear wasn’t helping. His emotions were all over the map and he was dragging mine along with his. I needed to smooth things over, to tame the beast that was clearly on the verge of breaking through. I wrapped my fingers around his thick wrists, doing my best to capture the attention of his angry eyes.

  "I'm not messing with you. I swear," I said softly. "I know only a few things. From the morning that I set eyes on you in that kitchen, there was no denying which Callahan man I wanted. I can't write a song without it being about you. I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else, touching someone besides me. You've got me so twisted and confused, so far from my comfortable center that I don't know which way is up or which is down. I can't think straight or breathe or form a cohesive thought when you're around. I want you near me, by my side, on top of me…inside me. I want you every which way I could possibly have you. I know I shouldn't, but I do. I can't understand it and I sure as hell don't know what to do about it, but there's absolutely no way that my body will allow me to leave you alone."

  My confessions were exhausting. I couldn't fathom why I'd just handed over every frustrating, lustful thought to the man sitting before me, but I had. He could potentially crush me with the information that I'd given and yet, even with that knowledge, I'd still said all of those things. Never had I laid everything at a man's feet. Lord help me, but I'd just leapt headfirst off of an emotional cliff. There was no turning back. No mulligan.

  "Then you'll have me," he said matter-of-factly, my heart performing an uncomfortable jerk reminding me of my vow to get it looked at. "God, I've tried to stay away from the bar, from the condo," he said softly, his eyes searching mine thoroughly. "But I won't deny myself of you any longer."

  His words split me open, crippling me. I was unable to comprehend anything but him and the moment and the feelings for him that I now knew were reciprocated.

  "I don't know what to say," I admitted.

  I always knew my next move, always knew when it would end or how far I was willing to go. But not this time. Not with this man.

  I was taking a huge leap with Griff, but wasn't I a woman who shot from the hip? I wasn't capable of saying no. I wasn't Kole. I couldn't turn my back on something like this, on this feeling. I wished that I had that kind of willpower, but I didn't. Walking away from something that felt this good was simply not in my genetic make-up.

  "Sometimes, talking is overrated. One day at a time is all I'm looking for and, beyond that, we'll figure it out."

  His lips crashed onto mine, shushing the silent pleas that had been swirling around inwardly. One day at a time seemed like an easy enough thing to do. One day at a time would allow me the satisfaction of getting to do with Griff what my body seemed adamant on doing, allowing my heart an ample amount of time to tap out when it was ready to.

  He flipped me over onto the couch, his teeth nibbling on my bottom lip.

  Yep, one day at a time would be a piece of cake.

  Chapter Eleven

  I awoke the next morning floating on a cloud, blinking a handful of times as I recalled the prior night's events. Griff and I had made out like a couple of horny teenagers, overwrought with hormones and angst. I touched my lips, noting their puffiness from overuse. He'd made first base feel like a dream, but the restraint that we'd exercised had left me more than a little pent up.

  I squeezed one of the pillows firmly between my thighs, the feeling not nearly as fulfilling as I'd intended. Releasing a frustrated groan, I clamped my legs down harder, bringing another pillow to my face to muffle any other stray sounds that may attempt escape. The pillow method was simply not doing the trick. I needed to improvise, quickly.

  Feverishly undoing the buttons on my jeans, I dipped an eager hand below the waistband of my panties, heading straight for my sweet spot. We'd talked and kissed until the wee hours of the morning, teasing ourselves into a lustful mess before sleep had finally overtaken me. I needed this.

  There was a knock at the bedroom door, my ears perking in that direction. "You awake?"

  My heart performed a funky double beat as I quickly snatched my hand from my jeans. "Come in," I called, fumbling with the buttons before finally giving up.

  He opened the door, coming in bare-chest first. Reflexively, I clamped my thighs together over the pillow. I needed sex, badly, but a simple release would tide me over.

  "How did I get in here?" I questioned, licking my lips as he strolled towards the king sized bed, placing a hip along the edge.

  "You fell asleep on my shoulder so I carried you in here. I figured it'd be much easier - for you comfortably and for me physically," he said, allowing the insinuation to sink in.

  "That was rather sweet of you," I praised. I didn't stand a chance in hell if he was going to be this generous. I'd jump his bones in a matter of hours. Yep, definitely needed that release.

  "It was more for me than you," he admitted, the left side of his mouth hitching upwards into a half-smile. "Blue balls isn't something that you could possibly understand, and I'm fearful that I'm already the owner of a very colorful set."

  Blue skittles! I was in trouble. "No, I guess not. I'm sure Felicia would help you out with that," I teased coyly. I didn't like the way that my gut responded by twisting into a jealous knot.

  "Would you like me to call her?" he questioned, playing right along. "Because I can go and get my phone. Matter of fact, I'll call her right now." He stood, placing his palms on the bed and making a show of testing the bed's pliability. "You'll need to leave though. I'm not sure how comfortable I'd be having sex with someone watching…"

  I sprang from the bed, covering the distance quicker than Kole moved on a tennis court. Grabbing for his arm and almost falling off of the bed in the process, I managed to tug him back towards me. "Please don't," I begged, out of breath as I attempted to regain my balance. My hands tightened around his shoulder muscles. If my aim was to keep it together and not jump his bones, I'd need to remind myself that a key part in that was not noticing every well-defined muscle on his body. Not an easy task to do.

  "Are you sure? Because I don't think she'll mind. All I have to do is make the call," he joked, his voice cocky and downright sexual.

  Grrrr! He was doing better than me at my own game. "I'm sure," I confirmed, my eyes still ridiculously glued to the muscle beneath my hands.

  His hands encircled my hips, lifting me from my knees and instructing me backwards. I tried taking precautionary strides away from him, stopping short when the back of my head came into contact with pillows and headboard.

  "Absolutely sure? Because I could do to her what I'm about to do to you," he said, the humor still in his voice. He crawled onto all fours, slinking slowly towards me, stalking me.

  My mouth had gone bone dry. How was I supposed to respond to that? "And what's that?" I managed, sounding far more confident than I felt.

  "Well, for starters," he began gruffly. "I'd like to feel you." He drug his body on top of mine, repositioning himself. I was locked in a cage of legs and arms - all muscled masculinity.

  "I'm right here," I whispered, reaching towards him in an effort to pull his top half down to mine.

  His eyes grew serious. "I'm not talking about that, although, I certainly plan on doing that and then some," he insinuated. "I'm talking about feeling you," he mumbled. He dipped his head low, sliding his tongue along the curve of my neck, stopping just below the ear. "I'm interested in feeling how wet I make you."

  Waves of embarrassed, lustful heat lapped at my body. I had never been talked to like this. It was devilishly sexy, naughty verging on nasty…and I liked it. "Very," I informed him.

  Dolly Parton's, "Nine to Five" sounded off in the distance, my ringtone catching me off guard. I stiffened, inadvertently looking for the device.

  "Leave it," he grumbled huskily, positioning himself off to my side. He fingered the hem of my tank top, raising it to just above my naval before tracing tiny circles around the indention. My breath caught in my throat, his fingers creating tiny prickles of awareness.

  My phone chirped away in the distance, indicating a voicemail. Someone had impeccable timing.

  His fingers hesitated when they reached the buttons of my jeans, his eyebrows lifting with amused inquisition. "Looks like someone might've been dipping into the cookie jar this morning."

  I blushed ten shades of red, diverting my eyes to anywhere but on his.

  "Kennedy, look at me," he commanded. His voice was soft but left little to the imagination about the seriousness of his demand. My hazel eyes shifted in his direction, his fingers dancing across the elastic of my panties. I'd officially stopped breathing. How could he do that and stare me down at the same time? I wasn't some prissy girl who always did the deed with the lights off, but being stared at by this man while he touched me intimately was a little more than intimidating.

  Stumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen. Pour myself a cup of ambition…

  I closed my eyes, trying to tone out the shrill of my phone.

  "Open your eyes," he whispered, his voice sounded downright sexual. I could feel his breath on my face, confirmation that this was actually happening and not just some figment of my lustful mind’s imagination. "I want to see you when I touch you for the first time."

  My eyes snapped open as the blood rushed from my face, presumably to areas farther South.

  "Forget about the phone," he mumbled.