Stained Glass Shards

19.

GRIFFIN

I introduced Ely as Claire Lark to as many people as she could stand at the industry party in North Hollywood. Clearly starstruck, she talked to many starlets, but I kept close proximity to her to let all the male actors and executives know she was with me. They seemed impressed with her accomplishments in the last year as a first-time novelist. I was proud to listen to her discuss her work and process. Many film and television executives offered her their cards, requesting to get right of first refusal for her work. She smiled kindly and took their information, tucking each into her purse.

When servers offered her a cocktail, she politely refused. I knew then that she remained sober because she didn't trust me. With Ritter, she was willing to keep drinking until he controlled her.

Was that what she needed? To be dominated?

I could dish it out, but I had to be methodical.

When champagne was handed out before a big speech about the latest film release, I handed her a glass. She accepted, but remained stoic as she listened to the producer speak. When a toast was made, she lifted her glass like everyone else, took a sip, and lowered it to her side. I grasped her hand and pulled her to a quiet corner of the venue.

"Are you having fun?"

Maybe I stood a little too close because she looked nervous. "I'm not bored, yet," she replied. "How's your arm?"

"Sore, but I'll live. Don't worry about me."

Her chin quivered. I probably sounded like a douche. Perhaps she did worry about me—so much so that she could no longer be involved.

"I meant that I'm okay. I don't want you to worry. These things happen a lot."

"Do they?"

"Well, when you're well-known for being in action movies, you get tested a lot."

"Sounds unsafe."

"I'm used to it. I usually go out with my friends, like Phinn, who are martial arts experts. He's a muscular guy, so he isn't provoked."

"Is that the guy I saw pull you away at the restaurant the other night?"

"Yep. He's the one. He's the stunt coordinator for the film. We were filming together when I had my accident. He flew back to LA to check on me and treated me to dinner that night."

"When do you return?"

"In a couple of days. They got the shot and are filming around me. I don't need any surgery, I just need time to heal. Meds are helping."

She nodded, still looking at my shoulder. She bit her lower lip and I resisted the urge to pull it toward mine, taste her once more.

A female server interrupted us, staring at me with recognition. She smiled as she placed the serving dish between us.

"No, thank you," I growled.

She looked contrite and backed away.

"That must happen a lot, too," Ely said.

"She must have confused me with someone else."

"Yeah, right." She laughed.

"You're amazing," I said.

"Griffin."

"It's still Griffin, huh?"

"That's your name."

"It used to be Griff. That's how I know you're happy with me."

"If you recall, I only called you Griff when we were fucking."

My cock pulsed.

I watched her look at her wrist. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"I'm still on East Coast time."

I doubted her excuse. Ritter was on her mind. She'd remained polite all night and didn't look at her phone or watch. But she'd had moments when she appeared preoccupied.

"What's wrong?" I prodded.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head.

"Do you want to go back to your hotel?"

"I would like that."

"Can I come up?" I leaned in, bracing myself on her waist.

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing, friend?"

"Come on, Ely."

"It's Claire."

"Oh, so this is business?"

"Here? Absolutely."

Our faces were too close, but she didn't push me away, nor did she back into the safety of the limited space behind her.

"Role play?" I asked.

Ely laughed, putting her hands on my chest. She held them there for a hot second and then pushed me away. But it was enough. Enough to feel that attraction between us. It was obvious that she was restraining herself from being with me the way I wanted. All I needed was a crack to seep through the walls she erected around herself—the ones that gave passage to Ritter but denied everyone else entry.

When she didn't push hard enough, I moved in and gave her a kiss. Her lips were still as soft and pillowy as I remembered. The same minty and fruity scent of her breath and lipgloss filled my senses. Wet and wanting me, she kissed me back. Then I felt her inhale and she pulled away.

"Sorry. I just needed one. Just one last one." I breathed out heavily.

She didn't berate me as expected. She didn't say anything at all.

That had to mean something.