Beach House No 9 - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,120

her mouth, his shaft once more pumping inside her. Her hands came up, flailing around his shoulders. He grabbed them once again and entwined their fingers. Lifting his mouth, he stared down at her, his gaze going as deep inside her as his body.

His eyes on her, he continued pumping. Another excruciating round of chills broke over Jane's flesh. This wasn't the pirate crouched over her. They weren't honey-pie and chili-dog. In this bed in this moment there was no librarian or governess. No friends or foes.

Again, she suspected he didn't know who he was with, that she was just the female he needed to his male. Tonight's yin for his yang.

His eyes glittered as he released one of her hands. He slid his palm between them, brought his fingers to her clitoris. "You first," he said.

You first. Tears stung her eyes. She'd been wrong. He knew her. He knew so very much about her that even now, even under this duress, she was on his mind. And it was that, as much as his sure touch, that detonated her explosion. The pleasure twisted tight, then released, whipping outward in circles until her entire body was shaking with the strength of it. She arched back, pushing up to take more of him, and he went still and deep, his arms shaking, as he came with short, jabbing pulses.

Then he fell to the mattress, half on her, still in her. They were both breathing hard, and she stroked a light hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, his head turned away from hers. "I was rough."

"It's fine. It's all right," she said, feeling her face go red.

He turned to look at her. "Are you sure?"

"Everything we did - I loved it. Griffin, I - " She stopped herself just in time.

He was already going tense, however, and she knew he'd heard her unspoken words. I love you.

Damn, she thought, as he withdrew and headed for the bathroom. But she was too tired and sexually replete to devise a fallback position. Shifting on the bed, she allowed herself a little wince as she twinged where she had never twinged before. Still waiting for him to return, she drifted off.

It couldn't have been a long while later that she awoke. Alone. She could feel he wasn't in the house, and she padded through the quiet rooms to confirm it. Private was gone as well. As she passed through the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of the next-door cottage through the window. There were lights on in No. 8, lights she hadn't left burning. A blue flicker told her the TV was on as well.

It was Griffin who had made his escape, not Jane.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE NEXT MORNING, Jane left the cove to run a few errands, which included visiting a quickly recovering Rex at the hospital. If she was also using the time to steer clear of Griffin, that was nobody's business but hers. Upon her return in the late afternoon, she approached the door to Beach House No. 9, steeling her spine to face the man inside. Everything between them was a tangled mess: the ruined book, his brutal memories of war, last night's unbridled sex, her unspoken words.

She adjusted her denim-blue linen pants and squared her shoulders beneath the tissue-thin white tee. She was wearing the same espadrilles she'd had on the day she'd brought him coffee, and now she wished she had something like that to occupy her hands.

Glancing down, she noted the mat under her feet. Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here. How many times had the words and Griffin himself warned her away? And yet she'd pushed forward, pushed him, and her reward was falling for a prickly loner who felt things so deeply he had to pretend he felt nothing at all.

Images of him flashed through her mind. In one he raced up the cliff, in another he steadied Rex on the short stroll to his home. She remembered him playing tag with his nephews on the sand and holding Private like a big furry baby on his lap. His voice whispered in her head.

I didn't think you were actually afraid of anything.

Somebody's coming along real soon, and you'll know just how lovable you are.

You first.

Shaking off the memories, she twisted the doorknob and strode over the threshold. Private gave one loud bark and rushed to her in exuberant greeting. "Hey, boy," she said, rubbing his silky head. "Can always count on you being happy to

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