on the idea of seduction, I switched off the light, packed up my things, and went out to the living room.
Griffin was sitting in the chair I’d slept in. The kitchen lights were out but moonlight streamed in through the tall front windows, illuminating the room in a silver sheen. Just the sight of the back of his head and his neck did things to me. As I got closer, I could see a sheet spread neatly over the cushions and a pillow at one end.
“Thank you,” I said.
He rose to his feet and faced me. “No problem. All done in the bathroom?”
“Yes.” Self-conscious, I touched my wet, bedraggled hair. “I really appreciate the shower. I feel much better.”
“Good.” He glanced down at my bare legs for a moment and then back toward his bedroom. “Guess I’ll feed the cat and go to bed.”
“Okay.” But I didn’t want him to go. “I wish . . . never mind.”
“What?”
I shook my head. “It’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
I stared at his chest as I spoke—at the biceps bulging against his sleeves, at the ink on his muscular arms, at the broadness of his shoulders. Desire was pooling at the center of me, bubbling like thick, hot, chocolate sauce. “I wish I’d met you under different circumstances, that’s all.”
He took a step closer to me. “Why?”
“Because I hate being dependent on you this way. It’s not that I don’t want to stay another night with you—it’s just that I wish it wasn’t because I needed to.” Our eyes locked. “I wish it was because you wanted me to.”
“What if it was both?”
“Huh?”
“What if it was that you need to and I want you to?” His hands moved to my hips.
“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” I slid my palms up his chest, rising on tiptoe. My stomach quivered. “Do you want me to?”
He pulled my body flush against him, and I felt the answer before he said it. “Yes.”
Our mouths came together, hot and searing. He kissed me the way I’d always dreamed about being kissed—wild and savage, like a starving animal devours its prey. Twenty-four hours of pent-up longing overwhelmed us, and our hands tore at clothing—whipping off T-shirts, yanking at shorts, unbuttoning, unzipping, shoving down jeans. When we were naked, the full lengths of our bodies pressed against each other, our hands sliding over hot, sweaty skin, he groaned and moved his mouth down the side of my throat. I tipped my head to the side and sighed at the decadent swirl of his tongue on my neck.
Reaching between us, I sheathed his thick, towering cock with one hand, rubbing my thumb over its tip, moving my fist up and down its length, murmuring in appreciation and excitement.
He growled and slipped a hand between my thighs, caressing me with surprisingly soft, gentle strokes until I thought I’d die if he didn’t penetrate me. I rocked my hips over his hand and he gave me what I wanted, sliding one long finger inside me, using the heel of his hand against my clit. Then he withdrew his finger and rubbed the warm, silky wetness in quick little circles and I felt like an oven buzzer was about to go off inside me.
“Oh God,” I whispered, embarrassed that I might come this fast. I had to grip both his shoulders to even stay on my feet. “That feels so good. I haven’t—so long—don’t stop—yes, yes, yes—” I exploded in hot, pulsing beats, my core muscles clenching again and again. But I was greedy and desperate for more. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to lose control the way I had. I wanted to make him come.
But first, my legs gave out.
He caught me—of course he did—grabbing me around my lower back and hoisting me up his body. I wrapped my legs around his waist as our mouths collided again, tongues searching, teeth bumping, lips opened wide. With my elbows on his shoulders, I threaded my hands through his hair as his hands kneaded my ass. Trapped between us, his cock was long and slick, and my entire body radiated with the need to take him in deep.
“Would it be too forward of me to tell you I want you?” I panted against his mouth. “Like right now?”
Instead of answering, he moved toward the couch and knelt on it with one knee, setting me on my back on top of the sheet. “Don’t move,” he ordered.