woman? And being a woman means I’m weak and need you, a man, to carry the load?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“No, you said I needed to fall apart and let you pick up the pieces. What if I don’t want to fall apart? What if I’ve got my shit locked down tight? Or maybe I’m just barely holding on and need to keep hanging on by myself? You’ve done enough rescuing. I’m sure I can handle the rest from here on out. Besides, how can you carry me when you won’t even kiss me?”
“You know the answer to that, and are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Holding on?”
Hell to the no.
“Yes, Griff. I’m totally fine.”
“Right, you’re F-I-N-E, and we all know what that means.”
“If you dare say fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional, I’m going to kick you in the nuts, then feed you your balls.”
“As delicious as that sounds, I was thinking more along the lines of Feelings Inside Not Expressed. But if you want to go with fucked up…”
“Ugh! You’re impossible.” I punch him in his bad leg, satisfied when he grunts in pain.
He grips my wrist when I go to take another swing at him. “Don’t do that again.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll paddle that very fine ass of yours until you express all those feelings swirling inside that head of yours. Don’t tempt me, Moira.” His tone deepens and sends licks of heat shooting through me. “You remember what happened last time?”
Don’t I ever?
It was the most exciting, most erotic, and most frustrating non-sexual experience of my life.
Several months ago, during training, I pushed things one step too far. Thinking I could get him to budge from his no-personal-relationships-with-the-rescuees thing, I grabbed him. Like, grabbed his crotch and stimulated him.
While he turned hard in my hand, he told me in no uncertain terms what was never going to happen between us. When I continued to stimulate him, he explained in a very calm, very controlled, very professional Guardian voice that if I didn’t remove my hand from his cock, he would spin me around and paddle my ass until I couldn’t sit for a week.
He told me not to push my luck.
I pushed.
And he followed through. Four spun me around, flipped me over his knee, and paddled my ass.
I didn’t sit properly for days, but damn if I didn’t love the delicious sting of his hand and the ache that followed.
I never said I wasn’t fucked in the head. I’m so damn twisted there’s no hope. I hate the men who used me and hurt me but get turned on when Griff takes control.
Yeah, it makes no sense to me either.
I answer him with a blank stare, which he meets with one of his own. And just like that, we lock in a battle of wills. Which is totally fine by me. It gives me time to take in his aggressive posture, menacing scowl, and hawkish gaze, then meet him with my strength.
I won’t back down.
He bugs the shit out of me because I’ve never been more captivated by another human being. I’ve never been this interested in a man, and that menacing scowl on his face should send me running.
Instead, it’s a goddamn beacon, and I’m the moth drawn irresistibly to his flame. I don’t care that he’s more likely to destroy me than save me. I simply need to be near him, as close as he’ll let me get.
Those violet eyes of his drink me in, and those sculpted lips drive me insane. I want them on me, everywhere at once, and he steadfastly refuses every damn advance I make.
It’s not possible for the tension between us to get any thicker, but when he bends down and whispers in my ear, I practically detonate.
“Open up and let me in.”
Oh, I’ll open up all right, and I’ll let him in. Only we’re not talking about the same thing. I want sex, dominance, and control. He wants to shelter, protect, and emotionally support me, like a good little Guardian.
I ache for the sweet release only he can give me, but Griff wants something I’ve never given another human on this planet.
I don’t know how to let you in, Griff. I just don’t know.
So, what do I do? Why, I deflect, of course, because that’s how I survive.
“I’m fine. Maybe you should just leave me alone?”
“Is that a statement or a question?”
“Does it matter?”
“Is that what you want?” His steely gaze bounces between my eyes.
No.
I cross my arms over my chest and refuse