The phone never could ring these days without making her think of Corey, and Erica’s heart clutched. The one thing tempering her relief at being given a reprieve from a terminal disease was the sadness that still rested like a decaying thing in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought of Griff or Corey. Of those wild moments in Griff’s arms, of the cold, hurtful truths she’d used to push Corey away the last time they’d spoken. No, it would not be Corey on the other end of the line this time. The thought weighed Erica’s heart down as she lifted the receiver. The voice she heard stopped it altogether. “What are you wearing?” Erica gaped for several moments, flabbergasted by Griff’s question. “What?” “What? You’re happy to do the kinky phone thing with Wachawski, but I don’t rate?” Erica blew out a stunned breath. Griff went on as though she hadn’t made a sound. “Lucky for me I’m not the sensitive type.
