That Second Chance Read online

  He was excited I was here.

  He spent the entire night by my side, telling stories, making sure I was taken care of. He didn’t need to do that; he could have hung out with his brothers, but he chose me.

  Our campsite comes into view, the fire dying down to embers, the three tents occupied, everyone but me settled in their beds. As I approach the orange tent I’m sharing with Griffin, my stomach ties itself in knots.

  I clutch my toiletry bag and clothes to my chest. I can do this. It’s just sleeping.

  Just. Sleeping.

  If I can’t sleep next to this man, then I have no business being near him.

  Finding a little bit of courage, I puff my chest and step in front of the tent, but I pause for a second. What if he’s naked or something in there? I should knock, but you can’t exactly knock on canvas. “Knock, knock,” I say instead. “It’s Ren. Are you decent?”

  The low rumble of his chuckle washes over me. “Yeah, I’m decent. Remember, I took a shower, too, and I was smart enough to bring a towel.”

  I open the tent to a dimly lit space and give him a narrowed look. “Low blow, Knightly, but at least I’m smart enough to know what a poison ivy leaf looks like.” He chuckles again as I take in the space we have, reality hitting me all at once.

  One tent.

  One air mattress.

  One sleeping bag.

  One pillow.

  Oh crap.

  Griffin must notice my mounting panic. “Uh, you can have the pillow and the sleeping bag. I usually get hot at night, so I’m good with this throw blanket.” He holds up a crocheted blue blanket that looks like it will cover the surface area of his chest, and that’s about it.

  I tuck my things into my duffel bag in the corner and turn back to the mattress, eyeing it. This is stupid. We’re adults; we can make this work.

  Plus . . . would it really kill me to share a bed with the man I’ve been crushing on for weeks? Maybe this is the final push he needs to make a move, to forget about that ridiculous, godforsaken curse.

  I kneel down on the bed without saying anything and unzip the sleeping bag, spreading it out and slipping beneath. It’s warm, and I’m thankful I’m only wearing a tank top and shorts as I lie down. I prop my head up on my hand and pat the bed beside me.

  “We’re adults, Griffin; we can share a bed. It’s fine.”

  He scratches the back of his neck, his thick bicep pressing against his shirt sleeve, stretching it out, as he studies me. Even though I was nervous about him going shirtless, after watching the little bicep show, I kind of wish he were shirtless.

  “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  “The only thing that’s going to make me uncomfortable is the thought of you sleeping under that itty-bitty blanket during this trip. Come on.” I flip up a corner of the sleeping bag, giving him access to join me. “It’ll be fine.”

  He turns off the flashlight, darkening the tent, and gives the bed a final once-over before climbing in. The mattress shifts under his weight, jostling me around a bit until he’s settled into position, a good foot separating us. He bunches up the blanket and uses it as a pillow, keeping his gaze turned up to the ceiling of the tent.

  Silence falls between us, and I’m unsure if I should say good night or not say anything, just let sleep take over. It feels awkward not to say anything, but with each minute that passes by, crickets and the rustling of Rylee and Beck’s tent the only things filling the peaceful night air, I can’t seem to form the words I need to.

  So I surrender to sleep and shut my eyes, staying on my side, stiff as a board, not wanting to invade Griffin’s space, a little part of me extremely disappointed. I almost thought that maybe we would have another conversation, or maybe he would sleep a little closer, or maybe, just maybe, he would finally give in to the temptation I see in his eyes whenever he’s around me.

  But from the quiet breathing coming from him and his motionless body, I’m going to let the scenarios I came up with in my head while showering start to slowly fade away.

  We are sharing a tent.

  And that’s as far as this night seems to go. Tent sharing.

  Why do I feel like this is an epic fail on my part?

  I wonder what he would have done if I’d announced I like to sleep naked and started stripping down. Would he have fled the tent as if there were a rattlesnake in it, or would he have easily joined me, stripping down to nothing as well?

  Right about now, I think he’d be sprinting around the campsite, screaming like a little girl.

  Oh well. Maybe we’re meant to be friends, and that’s it.

  I grip the pillow and sigh, letting the night take me.

  And then, “They did this on purpose, you know.”

  My eyes flick open, my heart rate picking up at the sound of his voice, barely above a whisper.

  “Did what?” I ask, trying to hide any sleepiness in my voice.

  “Invited you here, didn’t tell me about it, stuck us in the same tent. Every chance my family has had, they’ve tried to put us together. They’re meddlers.” He turns on his side, his beautiful eyes finding mine. “They want to see me happy. They want to see me with you.”

  My breath catches in my throat, my pulse running a mile a minute as I force myself not to move, unsure if he’s really talking to me about this, about something more than friendship.

  I wet my lips, letting my heart calm down. “And . . . and what do you want?”

  He doesn’t answer right away; instead his eyes look past me, over my shoulder, as if he’s contemplating what to say next.

  Every nerve in my body is tingling, the anticipation of his answer slowly killing me with every second that goes by.

  Is he going to say no?

  Is he going to lie and let me down easy? Because I’ll know if he’s lying. From the lingering gazes to the subtle touches and the protective way he holds my hand, it’s clear he wants more, but there’s something holding him back. I’m not sure if it’s the passing of his wife, the curse, or me—it’s frustrating not to know.

  “I don’t know what I want,” he finally answers. My heart falls to my stomach along with my hopes.

  I try to cloak my disappointment, but I fail miserably. Tears threaten to fall. “I can understand that it’s hard. It’s okay, Griffin. Moving on is hard.” I give him a curt smile.

  Removing my hands from under my pillow, I roll over to my other side and carefully, hopefully without being detected, wipe away a stray tear. I can’t imagine what he must be going through, losing a loved one the way he did. What was his life with her like? Did they go camping? Did they laugh and joke around the way we do? Does he miss her so much that thinking about being with another woman is completely impossible? I know this is hard on him, but it isn’t easy on me, either; though I doubt he means to give me hope of what we could have, he does. With every touch of his hand and every endearing smile, he gives me hope.

  I almost wish I weren’t in the middle of all of it. That I weren’t the girl his family was constantly trying to push him toward, that he weren’t the guy who pulled me from my car, that we were strangers who passed by each other with a polite wave as we made our way through the streets of Port Snow.

  It might have been easier to never have known Griffin the way I do now; each time he pushes me away, my heart splinters.

  The air mattress shifts, and I think Griffin is about to leave the tent. But I feel his body move in close to mine, his hand gently pulling down on my shoulder, rolling me onto my back. He hovers above me, and the air escapes my lungs as I stare up at him, my emotions hanging on by a thread.

  He reaches out and twirls a piece of my hair between his fingers. “I do know there’s no way I can sleep in the same bed as you tonight and not touch you, not hold you. There’s no way I can keep my hands or lips to myself.”

  I swear to God it’s almost like a bubble has been holding my happiness hostage, because the second Griffin leans down, his lips inches away from m
e, that bubble bursts, pure joy eclipsing me. I move my hand past his strong shoulder to the back of his neck, where I grip tightly, holding him in place.

  His nose gently rubs against mine, his tongue wetting his lips, his soapy scent intoxicating me. “I can’t even pinpoint a moment when I’ve wanted something as badly as I want your lips on mine.”

  Seductive and strong, his voice rolls over me; arousal takes root in the pit of my stomach and spreads all over my body.

  He closes the space between us and finally presses his lips against mine.

  And it’s everything I ever thought it would be.

  Gentle but commanding, soft but powerful.

  Lips gliding across mine, our mouths fuse together as one.

  Our kiss deepens. His tongue swipes across my lips, and on instinct, my mouth parts, granting him access. I close my other hand around his neck and slide it up into his hair, where I grip him tightly. He groans into my mouth and moves his hand from my hip to my rib cage, his thumb grazing my side, my tank top riding up a few inches.

  Our tongues dance, our kiss strengthening, our need for one another growing desperate as we finally give in to the feelings that have been mounting for weeks.

  I frame his head with my hands as he shifts on the bed, lowering down even farther, his hand moving up my back higher and higher, holding me close to his warm body.

  Our mouths still tangling, I slip my hand under his shirt, waiting for him to stop me, and when he doesn’t, I explore upward, marveling at the rigidness of his abdomen under my fingers.

  A six-pack, just like I thought.

  I slide my hand up farther, dragging his shirt with me, until he breaks our kiss, sits back, and pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his ripped chest and stomach. Thick pecs lead to a carved stomach, divots and valleys accentuating every muscle, giving way to a small scattering of hair right below his belly button. Stunned at how gorgeous he really is, I shyly dance my fingers up his abdomen to his pecs, where I run them over the short hair on his chest. It’s all male and so beyond sexy.

  Before I can drink him in further, he presses me back down into the air mattress and hovers above me, the heat of his body warming me up immediately.

  He moves his forehead to mine, our lungs rising and falling in unison as his hand slowly glides down my arm, finding my hand. He twists our fingers together and then brings our joined hands above my head, locking me in place.

  And then he attacks my mouth again, his powerful body leaning into mine, our legs tangling, his arousal pressing against my hip.

  Yes. God, yes.

  With every swipe of his tongue, every pass of his thumb over my hand, my body is fueled with lust for this man. He’s invading every last nerve I have.

  His scent, spicy and fresh, hypnotizing.

  His taste, minty, addictive.

  His body, large and strong, arousing.

  His erection, thick, teasing.

  I need more, so I rotate my hips against his, eliciting a groan from deep within him as he breaks off our kiss.

  “Ren,” he says breathlessly. “You can’t do that.”

  “Can’t do what?” I’m just as breathless.

  “Move your hips like that.” He leans down and pecks my lips a few times. “I’m hard as a fucking rock right now, and any movement is going to be too much.” He pulls away just a little, growing serious. “It’s been a really long time for me, and even though I want you so fucking bad right now, I’m not about to have sex with you on an air mattress with my brothers in the next tent over.”

  Oh, right. I didn’t even think about that. I was so caught up in the moment.

  I bite my bottom lip. “Sorry, I guess I thought for a second that we were in our own private world.”

  “We might be in a tent, but it’s definitely not private.” With a frustrated breath, he peels off of me and rolls onto his back, draping a hand over his eyes. I watch, fascinated at how his brawny chest falls up and down, his tight nipples emphasized by his large pecs. If he’s trying to turn down the heat level between us, he’s doing a shitty job. I take in the deep V of his hips and how low his shorts ride on . . .

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  The soft fabric of his shorts does absolutely nothing to hide his arousal, and it’s gloriously large. My mouth waters as my body involuntarily moves forward, my hand going to his thigh.

  From my light touch, he startles and whips his head toward me. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re so hard, Griffin; let me do something about it.”

  “No.”

  Okay, not the answer I was expecting.

  “Griffin, I want to.”

  “And I appreciate that, but it’s not happening.” He must see my disappointment, because he quickly sits up and cradles my face in his palms, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “I meant it’s not happening here, not when we’re so close to everyone. When we do this, and fuck, we will, it’s going to be when we’re alone and I can hear your moans without having to muffle them. Okay?”

  The corners of my lips tilt up. Okay? That is more than okay, and all I can think about now is how the hell we’re going to get through two whole nights of camping.

  I nod. “Okay.”

  He presses a kiss against my forehead and pulls away, putting distance between us again. “Give me a few minutes to catch my breath, and then we’ll cuddle, if that’s good with you.”

  “Take your time.”

  I turn away from him, the promise of more to come swimming around in my head. It almost doesn’t feel real, that Griffin Knightly is about to hold me all night, that he just kissed me so wildly, with so much passion, that it felt like my clothes were going to melt off.

  I know he thinks he’s the one having a hard time calming down his arousal, but he has no idea how turned on I am, how much I can’t wait to be able to feel him all over again and press my lips against his.

  This is going to be the longest camping trip of my life.

  “Will you mind your own fucking business? Christ, man.” Griffin’s whisper-shout sounds from outside the tent.

  My eyes blink open. The early-morning sun has heated up the tent, turning it into a greenhouse. I kick off the sleeping bag and loll my head to the side as Reid—or I think it’s Reid—talks back to Griffin.

  “Just tell me if you at least kissed. We thought we heard something, but we couldn’t be sure.”

  “You can fuck off.”

  “Stop being a baby and just give us something.”

  “Will you keep your voice down?” Griffin snaps in a hushed tone. “She’s still sleeping, you douche, and the last thing I want you to do is wake her up with your incessant questioning. Drop it.”

  I stifle my giggles, imagining the ornery look on Griffin’s face. It’s one of the reasons why I like him so much—he loves his family dearly but also wants to throttle them most of the time.

  I give them a few minutes before moving from my comfortable position on the air mattress, memories of the night before flooding my mind.

  To say Griffin is a good cuddler is an understatement. He knew just how to hold me, how to splay his hand across my stomach, how to make me feel protected. And when at one point I woke in the night, I found his face was buried in my hair. He stirred for a second before absentmindedly pressing a kiss to my head and then falling back to sleep.

  That small moment, the fact that he subconsciously kissed me, just tells me it’s something he’s wanted to do for a long time now.

  I listen closely for any more arguing, and when I don’t hear anything, I sit up on the mattress and try to calm my hair’s wild waves. I rub my fingers under my eyes, clearing out any sleep, and stick a piece of gum in my mouth, not wanting to kill anybody with morning breath, Griffin in particular.

  I unzip the tent, slip on my flip-flops, and find Griffin hovering over a pan on the firepit, stirring what looks like oatmeal, while Reid slices up apples on a cutting board at the picnic table.


  “Good morning,” I murmur, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.

  Both Reid and Griffin turn toward me at the same time, but my gaze is only set on Griffin. His eyes travel up and down my body before landing on my face. A lazy grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, and my stomach flips at the sight.

  “Good morning,” he says softly. We stare at each other, both our smiles widening with each passing breath.

  “Nothing happened, my ass,” Reid mutters from the picnic table.

  I hide my chuckle and make my way over to the cooler, Griffin staring me down the entire time as I grab a water, get rid of my gum, and take a long swig, the cold liquid waking me up even more.

  “Smells really good,” I say, needing to break the silence and the blatant stares Griffin and I are sharing.

  Still stirring his pot, Griffin brings a coffee mug to his mouth and takes a sip, eyeing me from over the rim.

  “Do you like oatmeal, Ren?” Reid asks as Rylee and Beck hop out of their tent, grinning. I think everyone knows what they were up to last night.

  “I do like oatmeal. Mainly with brown sugar and raisins.”

  “Both items we have,” Griffin says as Beck walks up to the pot and takes over stirring duties.

  “Looks good, man. A few more minutes, and it should be good to go. Ingredients ready?”

  “Yup,” Reid calls out. “I made a little oatmeal bar for people to pick and choose their toppings. I’ll go wake up Brig.”

  “Good idea. I’m going to run to the bathroom before breakfast.” Griffin sets down his coffee and makes his way toward me. “Ren, do you have to go to the bathroom?”

  “I do, actually. I’ll go with you.”

  “How convenient,” Reid mumbles. Griffin gives Reid a murderous look over his shoulder as we stroll away.

  Quietly, we walk together, at least a foot between us, the early-morning birdsong mixing in with the crunch of our feet on the dirt path. We round a bank of trees that shield our tents from view, and once we’re out of sight, Griffin moves in closer, his pinkie finger rubbing the back of my hand right before he captures it, fully entwining our fingers and pressing our palms together.

  I can’t help it; I smile like a damn fool, so happy that this man is actually holding my hand.