Then he was standing, and he yanked her to her feet, already pulling her in the direction of the bedroom. They tumbled onto the mattress and he was tugging and shoving at her flannel pants; she tried to help, scissoring her legs to kick out of them, and when they flew off he grabbed her half-lifted leg and used it to flip her to her belly.
She lay there, just a little worried about the vulnerability of this position. Though she was naked, he was still wearing his jeans, and the soft denim pressed against the insides of her thighs as he nudged them open with his knees. But then he brushed his fingers along her shoulders and down her spine. "The carpet," he mumbled, his voice slurry again, almost drugged, "it scratched what's mine."
It was lust she heard in his words. Lust and possession fueled by all the emotions dredged up that day. As his mouth traced over her, she moved, sinuous and slow against the cool sheets, her own arousal fueled by the tickle of his tongue tracing the ladder of her spine.
His hands bracketed her hips, holding her still as his lips reached the small of her back. He pulled her to her knees, her bottom canting high, and he went greedy again, his teeth scraping against the soft curves, his mouth taking sucking kisses. The whiskered stubble along his chin and jaw only added another layer of throbbing sensation to her flesh, and she pressed her hot face into the sleek pillowcase.
"Griffin," she moaned. She was wet and needy and if he'd just give her the slightest touch... Her hand moved, but he caught her fingers and pressed them to the mattress, his palm flattened over her wrist.
She struggled a little, and he brought his mouth to her ear. "No." His other hand fumbled at the fastening of his jeans, his knuckles bumping against her where she was swollen and full blossom-ready for him. The drawer to the bedside table squeaked as he jerked it open. Panting, she watched him reach for a condom, and the anticipation made her pulse flutter in her throat. Then he was over her and the thick knob of him was at her entrance, his hand guiding him to her.
He pushed, grunting at the first breach. Jane gasped, her belly hollowing out as he drove slowly forward, the angle, the position, making him feel impossibly large. "No," she moaned, even as she lifted her hips toward the intrusion, impaling herself on his thickness.
Denim abraded her whisker-burned bottom, and she realized he was still half-dressed. She reached back, wanting to touch him somewhere, but he caught that hand too. He placed it like the other; palm to the sheet, his hand flattened over her wrist.
"Griffin..."
"Shh shh shh." His mouth was against her ear, his breath hot, his chest bowed over her back. "Relax now. Stay open for me. Let me in. Let me have it. Give it to me. Give me everything I need."
Every lust-laden word in his dark, sexy voice added more kindling to her own fire. She wiggled back, trying to take more, trying to incite a riot in him, because she was going to become violent if he didn't move.
And then he did. His movements were aggressive, a powerful rhythm of retreat-and-thrust that instantly made her wetter. "Yeah," he whispered, clearly aware she was slicker than before. "Like that. Yeah."
Griffin didn't sound like himself. This wasn't the charming lover, the playmate-in-the-sheets. At this moment, she thought, he might not even know her name. This was the male animal using sex, taking her to take himself away, an elemental act to avoid an entanglement of feelings.
And, God help her, she loved it.
If it brought him some relief from the pain of his memories, she'd be on her knees every night.
He started grunting with each new thrust, and she pushed back to take him to the root. His breath was soughing in her ear, fast and hard, and sweat dripped from his face onto her shoulder. She wiggled her going-numb fingers, and he noticed, adjusting her arms for a little more blood flow, yet still keeping her pinned with his hands.
His movements became rougher, his breath more jerky, and she braced herself, thinking, Go ahead, my love. Let go.
On the next retreat, though, he pulled free.
"Wha - " Jane spit out, but then she was flipped to her back. Griffin was on her in an instant, his tongue penetrating