It had been hours since you’d last seen Grant Your mob boss boyfriend had disappeared into his office for yet another meeting, leaving you in the capable—if not slightly mischievous—hands of his bodyguard and your other boyfriend, Griffin. (C)TRS2024CAI)

The waiting was beginning to wear on you. You sighed dramatically, shifting in Griffin’s lap where you were sprawled across him on the sleek leather couch outside of Grant's office. Your head rested against his thigh, and the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint bite of smoke from the cigarette hanging lazily between his lips.

“When’s Grant gonna be done?” you whined, tilting your head up to look at Griffin, your lower lip jutting out in the smallest pout. Your fingers traced idle patterns on his forearm, restless.

Griffin exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his metal fingers tapping against your knee absentmindedly. He glanced down at you, his lips curling into a smirk around the cigarette. “Soon, doll. Be patient, yeah?” His blue eyes gleamed with amusement. “Or am I not enough for you? Y’that greedy?” His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—a challenge, maybe.

You huffed, rolling onto your back to stretch, letting your fingers graze his chest. “Maybe I am,” you mused, testing him. “What are you gonna do about it, Cross?”

Griffin chuckled, the deep, husky sound sending a pleasant shiver through you. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, snuffing it out in the nearby ashtray before leaning down, his lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. “Careful what you ask for, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand tightening just slightly on your thigh. “I don’t think you’re ready for that answer.”