Erica's Choice (17 page)

“I don’t care that you drive an old car, Corey.”

“I know. I still wish I had something nicer to take you out in. Especially when you look so amazing.”

Lifting one of her hands from her lap, Corey held it in his and rested them both on his thigh. The warmth of his muscular leg permeated their linked hands, making Erica’s heartbeat turn from an erratic fluttering to a pounding, steady rhythm.

How could he arouse her and calm her at the same time? That simple contact generated an acute sense of longing inside Erica, a longing that grew and swelled and peaked time and again as they headed toward their mystery destination. Yet at the same time Corey’s touch was reassuring. They barely spoke but there was no awkwardness in the long stretches of silence. It was as though they’d been sitting beside each other holding hands for years.

Or as though they would for decades to come.

Quickly, Erica quashed that wistful thought. Tonight was about enjoying the
now
,
not trying to analyze what it all meant or agonize over the fact it couldn’t last.

The best steakhouse in the city looked very much like a suburban house. Erica looked out the window, her surprise evident to Corey in the confines of the car.

“This isn’t a restaurant.”

Corey explained. “Best steakhouse in town, Griff said. He’s not one for modesty, you might have noticed that.”

“This is Griff’s house?”

“Uh-huh.”

Corey went around to open the passenger door for her. Taking her by the hand—he couldn’t seem to bring himself to let it go—Corey led Erica to the front porch. He paused before opening the door, turning her toward him. “Erica, before we go in…”

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, her brown eyes wide and soft. “Yes?”

With a groan Corey dipped his head and sampled the cherry-flavored lip gloss he’d been aching to taste since she first opened the door. Erica whimpered something unintelligible and pressed up against him, those gorgeous breasts cushioning his chest.

Corey held her elbows and battled the compulsion to pull her more tightly to him. He’d promised himself he’d make this night special, and that meant not rushing her into bed the second they walked through the door.

Suddenly the front door opened, and there was Griff, leaning on the doorjamb, watching them. “Shit, Wachawski, I can’t trust you for a minute, can I?”

Making a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh, Corey pulled back and turned toward Griff. “Nope.”

Griff’s lips twitched, letting Corey know any irritation in his voice was only for show. His gaze roamed Corey’s face before trailing downward, blazing a trail over his body. Then his attention shifted to Erica, and his eyes lit like flares in the dim light of the hallway. Corey knew Griff was having the same reaction to Erica as he’d had himself when he’d first laid eyes on her. “God help me,” Griff muttered.

He took Erica’s hand, the one Corey didn’t already have clasped in his, and led her inside. Corey brought up the rear, admiring the way the soft green dress caressed Erica’s thighs as she walked. Affording Griff’s ass its due attention too. He wore a black shirt he’d left untucked so the tails hung over his dark jeans. It didn’t entirely obstruct Corey’s view of his ass, fortunately. The man looked criminally good in well-fitted denim.

Corey had to force himself to breathe. This was intense. It was one thing to admit to himself he wanted them both, Griff
and
Erica, quite another to be here with them, knowing full well what was to come. Anticipation made Corey as edgy as hell, and as gleeful as a kid locked in a toy store overnight.

“Welcome to my humble cave,” Griff said as he guided Erica into the open-plan living area.

The stereo played The Rolling Stones’s
Forty Licks
softly in the background as Erica twirled on her heels, surveying the vast space. “Humble? This is incredible. From the outside it looks small.”

“I knocked down some walls in here, made it all one room. It’s not as big as it looks.”

Corey shot Griff a look. Was he being
modest
? “He did this all himself. Increased the resale value by a bomb.”

“But I’m not selling. This is home.”

“I wouldn’t sell either,” Erica agreed, giving Griff a soft smile. “Your home is beautiful.”

Griff took a lazy step toward Erica, leaning in a little—encroaching on her personal space but stopping short of invading it. “More beautiful with you in it,” he said, his voice low. When Erica blushed prettily, Griff lifted a hand and stroked it lightly up and down her arm. “Do you want a drink, beautiful?”

Her voice was raspy, as though she needed to wet her throat now more than she ever had. “Yes, please.”

“Make yourself at home.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Corey said, following Griff to the kitchen. Once there, he leaned over the open fridge door and lowered his voice. “What are you doing?”

Griff pulled out a bottle of chardonnay and lifted it. “Getting your girl a drink.”

“She’s not just my girl.”

Griff’s gaze strayed past Corey’s shoulder, resting for a moment on the woman now wandering around his living room, inspecting CD collections and wall art. “We’ve been through this, Cor. I’m not the one who’s head over heels for the busty redhead.”

“You were cracking onto her.”

“Of course I was.” Griff pulled three glasses down from an overhead cupboard and placed them on the granite-topped bench. “She looks smoking hot.”

“No, I mean you’re trying to impress her.”

“Same thing, Wachawski.”

No, it wasn’t, not to Griff. Corey had seen him with women before. He flirted, teased and all around made his intentions clear. But he never went too far out of his way to get laid—he never had to.

“Look, you asked me to be gentle with her, not to scare her off.” Griff shrugged. “This is me being gentle.”

Corey watched as Griff poured the straw-hued liquid into three chunky wine glasses. He thought of all the women who had made a fleeting appearance in Griff’s life, thought of how he’d been by his side to see most of them waltz right back out. He knew this was different but Corey decided not to pursue it for now. Griff with all his bravado could be as easy to scare off as Erica.

And for the first time Corey acknowledged that he didn’t want either of them going anywhere. It was going to take every power of persuasion he had to keep Griff and Erica from bolting out of his life.

So instead of pushing the issue of Griff’s true feelings for Erica, Corey asked, “How come you never put moves like that on me?”

“What? Throw you up against the lockers at work?”

“Not at work. I know you don’t want anyone there finding out about us.” That had been abundantly clear from the way Griff had returned to ignoring Corey while they were at the fire station, much like he had after that first night with Erica. Corey tried not to let it sting, but he missed the easy comradeship they used to share.

“It has to be kept separate, you know that, right?” Griff asked. “I have to keep my mind on the job, that’s all. I’m not ashamed of anything, least of all you.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. Forget about work. Forget about who knows or doesn’t know. It’s what we do in private that counts.”

The reminder of how everything changed when they were alone caused Corey’s body temperature to soar. When they’d left Erica’s this afternoon, Griff had dropped Corey off at his apartment. Without waiting for an invitation, Griff had followed him inside and slammed the door with his foot. He’d shoved Corey up against the wall and kissed him like he wanted to take his soul in the act. Then Griff had dropped to his knees and taken Corey to heaven.

Corey’s cock twitched at the remembered feel of Griff’s tongue bathing it in heat. As if being so close to Erica and her signature lavender scent hadn’t gotten him hard enough, now he was as immovable as Griff’s granite bench tops.

“I like what we do in private,” Corey conceded when he found his voice. Maybe that was all that mattered. It wasn’t like they were at work twenty-four hours a day. “But when are you going to let me return the favor?”

Griff’s gaze dropped to Corey’s mouth, his irises sparking with heat. By the time their eyes connected again, Corey was blushing. “When I know you really want to, Cor. When you want it so bad you can’t go one more day without tasting my cock, without knowing what it’s like to have it fill you right to the back of your throat.”

Corey’s insides went all spongy and his face flamed. The sensations only intensified when Griff rounded the counter and hooked an arm around his neck, drawing him into a quick, close embrace. He smelled faintly of herbs, beer and aftershave, a spicier scent than the one Corey used. His smooth, warm lips brushed against Corey’s ear as he murmured, “Jesus Christ, you’re cute when you get bashful.”

Griff was gone the instant the words were out of his mouth, headed back to Erica. The effect of his touch, of his words, lingered like an aftershock, shaking up Corey’s world. He hung back in the kitchen, grappling with a tumult of emotions that had sideswiped him.

He looked across the room, watching as Griff stood behind Erica, brushing ever so subtly up against her as they discussed one of the paintings that hung on his wall. Corey saw her reaction to his nearness, the way she rubbed her arms as if he’d raised goose bumps, the way her body swayed backward as though yearning to melt into him. Corey understood exactly how she felt. She was fighting a losing battle against falling for Griff.

For Corey it was already too late.

Chapter Eleven

Griff had no idea why he was so goddamned nervous, but his palms were sweating like he was sixteen again and losing his virginity to an eighteen-year-old goddess by the name of Shauna Thompson. He’d been so keen to impress Shauna that he’d tried to unclasp her bra with one hand like a schoolmate had advised him to. She’d ended up doing the job herself with an impatient roll of her eyes Griff still couldn’t recall without wincing.

You’re trying to impress her.
He’d shrugged off Corey’s observation about his intentions toward Erica, but the truth nagged now as the three of them sat around his distressed timber outdoor table, replete after the meal he’d spent the afternoon carefully assembling. He’d dropped a tidy sum on the best porterhouse steaks he could find, a gourmet potato salad and a couple of bottles of fancy wine, thinking of Erica as he made the preparations. She’d been on his mind, too, when he’d strung the fairy lights along the railings rimming the back deck to create atmosphere, and when he’d bought scented candles as a table centerpiece.

Scented frigging candles.

Griff used to put on airs for Anna too. Without being fully conscious of it, he’d cleaned up his language and refrained from wearing his worst T-shirts in her presence. Anna had been an ambitious player in corporate banking, the daughter of a well-to-do surgeon. Jack had been an architect. Not an impressive-enough job to suit Anna’s snobbish father, but a guy with a degree at least. As a professional, Jack Chambers had passed muster. As a lowly public servant, Griff had not.

In the beginning that hadn’t mattered. Despite their varied backgrounds, he and Jack and Anna had clicked, in and out of bed. That was rare enough that Griff overlooked the small gripe that he was forced to act like nothing more than a boarder in their house. But a few years in the pretense had gotten too uncomfortable to keep up, like a prickly wool coat worn in the heat of midsummer. Griff had pressed for a more open relationship.

Unwilling to buck her family’s and society’s conventions, Anna had cut him out in a heartbeat. Jack had supported her because the two of them had always been the primary couple.

Sitting across the table from Erica and Corey now, Griff watched them interact like long-lost friends aching to be lovers and couldn’t shake the sense of history repeating itself.

It’ll be different this time. Walking away will be your choice.

“No, that was not Kate Winslet, it was Kate
Hudson
.” Erica fired another shot in the little game of who’s-that-starlet that she and Corey had entered into when he’d asked her to name her top five favorite films. “And
How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
is a much-underrated classic of the romantic-comedy genre.”

“I’m surprised, Erica. I thought you’d be into serious, important movies, not screwy chick flicks.”

“I read a lot of serious books for my job. When I watch movies I’d rather relax. Anyway, I’m appalled that you’re into scary slasher films.”

“
Scream
is really more funny than scary.”

Erica made a face. “There’s nothing amusing about all that blood. What about you, Griff?” She turned to him, gazing at him over the rim of her wine glass as she took a sip. “Don’t tell me you like that sort of thing too.”

If pushed to nominate a favorite movie Griff would probably cite
The Shawshank Redemption.
But he wasn’t in the mood to be so informative. He flashed a grin he didn’t feel all the way to his insides. “I like
Debbie Does Dallas
—a classic of the genre if there ever was one.”

As expected, Erica rolled her eyes. “Sex and violence. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what makes men tick.”

“Maybe the fun is in trying to work us out anyway,” Griff suggested.