regarding Griffin's memoir. "Why would your dad be interested in what I'm doing?"
"Because it's what I'm doing. Because you're my client." She made an offhand gesture. "Success is the only option."
There was nothing offhand about those words, Griffin thought. A direct quote, he suspected, and something Governess Jane had absorbed to the marrow of her bones. No wonder she carried an invisible whacking ruler on her small, starchy person.
Hadn't she implied the man was some sort of researcher?
My father always says I have no head for science.
It got to him, the idea of someone passing judgment on her. Without thinking, he set his coffee aside and stepped nearer. He put his hands on her shoulders and felt their rigidity. His thumbs circled. "Honey-pie, don't go pinning your self-worth on what some man says or does. Or doesn't say or do. You can't depend on 'em."
Her laugh was short. "Don't I know it."
There was bitterness there. Hurt. For a moment, just a flick of a second, the impulse to ride to her rescue flooded him. An urge to take care of her by shoring up all her fragile places.
God knew he had no business acting on it and that he'd disappoint her if he tried. He wasn't made for it - he was too selfish and too detached. Step back, he told himself. Step back now.
Before he could act, however, she circled his wrists with her small hands. She looked up, her smile lopsided. "Just get started, will you, Griffin? For your own sake."
It wasn't the lopsided smile. It wasn't that soft mouth of hers that still seemed pinker due to her sunburn from two days before. It was the orders that always came out of it and how desperate he was to silence them.
He slid his hands from her shoulders to her face.
She blinked. "Griffin, I'm serious. The work has to be - "
"Shh." He was tired of her talk, talk, talk.
She tried shifting away. "Griff - "
"Stop." His voice hardened. "Stop moving. Be quiet for a moment and be still."
To his amazement, she did. Her eyes widened, her body froze, her breath caught. Had no one ever taken charge of her?
Though his sudden power over her was heady, it didn't completely explain his next crazy impulse. "Now let me kiss you," he said, and then he did just that, bending his head to press his mouth to hers. And pow, there it was, the sweet blast of heat he'd tasted that Party Central night in his laundry room, when he'd been pissed at Rick and then pissed at himself for stirring up trouble with Jane.
And, oh, yeah, that Jane-trouble was back. Unexpected, though, because it was as if all the starch had gone out of her when he'd taken control. Be still. Now let me kiss you.
She was pliant now, her hands falling from his wrists to dangle at her sides. Her head dropped back, and the action opened up those soft lips, giving his tongue entry. She sighed against his mouth, all her defenses gone for the moment as he pressed closer, his body crowding hers.
Again, she didn't protest. A shudder went through her, and he felt it along his chest, along his thighs. He drew his mouth away from her lips, heard her little moan of protest but ignored it to explore the silken heat of her cheek and then the small shell of her ear. He tongued the lobe, felt her breath catch, and then she lifted her hands to grab his waist.
In the small room, their breaths turned loud. The sound was urgent, as urgent as the desire starting to fire in his blood. His mouth found hers again, almost feeding on it, and then his hands went wild, sliding over the crisp fabric of her dress, seeking a way to touch more of her flesh. Frustrated by all the metal apparatuses his fingers found, he slanted his head to take her deeper and yanked at the fabric of her skirt, lifting it to bare the warm backs of her thighs.
She jerked into his palms as he stroked upward. "Shh, shh, shh," he said against her mouth, soothing her, even as the hem rose higher with his wrists. His palms cupped the round globes of her ass over her panties.
Making a noise deep in her throat, she melted against him once more. It lit him up, his blood burning hot and thick, chugging a fire line southward. Causing that heavy, tightening sensation that he'd not