Immortal Desire (6 page)

Until now.

Chapter Seven

Whatever turned Bailey into the Happy Humper was winding up, the increasingly familiar need just beginning to stir. Cramps were still mild, so she had time.

“To do what?” she whispered, staring at Griff’s back.

He glanced over his shoulder, nostrils flaring. “It’s happening again?”

She nodded.

He turned away, head falling forward, hands dangling between his knees.

Somewhere in the apartment a clock ticked, eating up the silence one second at a time. The air conditioner kicked on with a soft rush that drowned out time’s passage with innocuous white noise.

He wordlessly stood and rested his palms against the wall. Shoulders rapidly rising and falling with every sharp breath, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the wall. “This isn’t going the way it was supposed to. I can’t do this.”

Bailey hadn’t taken her eyes off that long, strong back as he stood. Now she couldn’t look away, and she wanted to. More than anything, she wanted to. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“That’s what?” he asked, voice flat, almost resigned.

“You’re sorry you got into this.” The way her voice wavered infuriated her.

She should have known, should have suspected it would end up here. He was clearly sorry he’d made the effort with her. This was the worst part of every affair. With Griff, though? The waiting was killing her. Any moment now, he would turn and look her over with such abject disappointment she’d never recover.

Moving in a nearly blind haze of mortification, she reached for her shorts with a trembling hand.
Gotta get out of here.
If she hurried, she could probably make it to the elevator before the first tear fell. What she wouldn’t give for three wishes. The first would make her scathingly witty when pissed off, binding her penchant to cry when angry. The second would deal with scrubbing away her humiliation over this whole debacle. The third—

A hot, hard hand closed over her upper arm. “Bailey, listen.”

Panic pulled a total drive-by and yanked her out of the driver’s seat before racing off with her sanity. She rounded on him, blindly striking out.

Griff caught her fist and jerked her around. Folding her arm behind her and pressing her against the wall seemed fluid and effortless. The heavy weight of his body pinned her. His hips pressed into her ass, the heavy weight of his cock a heated brand his satin pants only emphasized.

He didn’t loosen his hold when he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

Bailey’s heart thrashed about in her chest like a wounded bird. She couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t break his hold, couldn’t think. Words wouldn’t come. The best she managed was a single shake of her head.

“Okay. Let’s try this. Where were you going?”

The way his breath scalded the shell of her ear made her shiver. “Don’t know. Thought I’d figure it out on my way down.”

“There’s nothing to figure out. You need to stay here.”

She struggled silently against his hold. It was wasted effort in the face of his strength, but she didn’t care.

“Take it easy, Bailey. I’m not going to hurt you.”

But that’s just it.
You will.
She didn’t need a fortune-teller to spell it out. “I can’t do this with you.”

He twitched before resettling himself against her back. “I said I’d see this through, and I will.”

“Let me go.” Her voice broke on the last word.

He relaxed, his weight evolving from a force of nature to a reassuring comfort. “Not happening, Bailey.”

Every panted breath pushed out precious oxygen she couldn’t seem to recover. “Why?”

Smoothing her hair away from her face, he rested his lips against her temple. “I can’t.”

Can’t.
There was that word again. Her throat tightened. “Don’t do this to me.”

He eased back and turned her around.

She stared at their bare feet. Confusion joined the emotional soup that threatened to boil over.

Griff hooked a finger under her chin. “Look at me.”

She forced her eyes up, the move excruciatingly slow.

His pants had shifted and now hung dangerously low on narrow hips. Well-defined obliques created a sharp, suggestive V that disappeared beneath the waistband. Soft light cast shadows across his torso’s hard contours. The shallow valleys between pads and ropes of muscle created roadways of temptation she longed to leisurely travel. Heavy pecs sported hard nipples. The blades of his collarbones disappeared into shoulders rounded with muscle.

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to reach up and trace the line of his jaw. Stubble abraded her fingertips. She stopped just shy of his chin. Lips, full and firm, distracted her so much that she didn’t see him reach for her hand, only felt him gently press her fingertips more firmly against his skin.

She closed her eyes and fought for calm before forcing herself to meet his gaze again.

Brutal honesty rested there, cushioned firmly between sexual heat and undisguised craving. “I’m not going to let you die, and if you walk out of here? That’s what’s going to happen.”

She looked away. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Letting go of her fingers, he grasped her chin and turned her face to his. “I gave you my word.”

“Which makes me a charity case.”

His eyes narrowed. “You know better than that.”

“Do I? You’ve made this all about obligation and keeping your word.”

“I’m a notoriously bad communicator.” He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “Let me make it up to you, show you just how much I...” Closing his eyes, he leaned in.

Her heart stopped.

He turned aside and rested his cheek against hers. Voice slightly hoarse, he said, “Come back to bed, Bailey.”

Her breath escaped in a shaky rush.

“I want you here. With me.”

The words were so close to what she needed to hear. But was close good enough? “Griff—”

He slid a hand down her arm, stopping when he reached her hand.

Her fingers laced through his.

A gentle squeeze offered silent encouragement.

Words were pointless. She knew she’d stay. The decision had been made when he first touched her in his office. Wanting him had been a familiar feeling for so long. Now she was here, in his arms and in his bed.

She tightened her fingers around his and let herself fall into the moment.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

Then don’t break my heart.

* * *

Griff led Bailey toward the bedroom.
Too close.
She’d intended to leave him. The thought made his lungs seize. Air became a temporarily irretrievable, priceless commodity. That wasn’t what made his pulse thunder and black spots dance across his vision, though. He rubbed his forehead, wondered briefly if he might pass out. All because he’d almost broken his own rule and kissed her.

She tugged at his hand when he continued through the bedroom. “Where are we going?”

“Bathroom.”

He didn’t pay any attention to the heated travertine floors, copper soaking tub or dark, exotic wood vanities. Nice, but they’d been the interior designer’s choices. The shower, though? That was all his doing. A thick glass face revealed a generous teak bench along the far wall. Multiple showerheads sprouted from the walls and ceiling. Brushed chrome finishes glinted under recessed overhead lights. The pebbled floor lent the space an organic feel.

Griff let Bailey go long enough to engage the digital control panel, selecting the showerheads he wanted before programming the water temperature. Then he slipped his pants off, squared his shoulders and reached for her.

She stepped into his embrace with unfamiliar surety, as if what had happened between them had resolved any lingering hesitations. There was trust in her actions. The realization rocked him, triggering the strangest sensation—a fluttering awareness, soft but persistent.
Look at me
, it seemed to say. But he couldn’t, instead squashing it with the boot heel of his determination to manage things better. He’d deal with any consequences later.

The heavy glass door made no sound as he swung it open. “Hop in. The water temp can be adjusted using the sister control panel on that wall.”

Bailey moved into the shower, her long, dark hair curling loosely down her back. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He stepped in behind her. Hot water sluiced over his chest. The familiar smell of his soap was an unlikely anchor in the bog of confusion surrounding him.

Her arms came around his waist.

His abs tightened as he sucked in a hard, fast breath. It was the first time she’d reached for him. Anticipation settled in his pelvis, a hot and heavy weight. He closed his eyes when her hands began to roam the contours of his body. How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to get lost in someone’s touch?

The heat of her body molding itself along his back interrupted his thoughts.

He reached behind and gripped her hips. Soft breath skated along his shoulder blades just ahead of the whisper of lips over his skin. “Bailey—”

“Sh.” She ran her tongue down the column of his spine. “Take your own advice, Griff. Just feel.”

He wanted to tell her that it had been bad advice, that he’d lost that ability a long time ago, but her mouth was doing invisibly wicked things that scrambled his thoughts. And her hands? They were the perfect combination of soft caresses and scraping nails.

She moved lower, tracing a path down his front that her mouth mirrored on his back. The tip of her tongue found the hollow at the base of his spine, tracing the shallow dip before she blew cool air over heated, damp skin.

Griff couldn’t think. Everything he wanted to say and do dissolved in a riptide of sensation. She pulled him down one languorous moment at a time.

“Turn around.” Her husky command hardly registered in his haze of desire.

The gentle direction of her hands was all that got him moving.

She sucked his cock in without warning, taking him deep enough that the head bumped the back of her throat.

His shout echoed off glass and stone. Nails dug into his ass and encouraged him to thrust into her mouth every time she descended his length. He slapped a palm against the wall. Fed his other hand through her hair. She groaned her approval. When she slid one hand between his legs and massaged the hard ridge behind his sac, he forgot to breathe.

His head fell back. Every fantasy he’d had of this moment paled in the face of reality. The way her tongue cupped him one moment and teased his corona the next dissolved his ability to form cohesive thoughts. Breathing turned into a shaky, shallow affair.

She slowed the pace, shifting to gently massage his balls. Then she undid him. Wrapping her hand around his root, she slid down his length. And didn’t stop. Took him deep. So deep he felt her throat spasm around him.

Release rushed him with more testosterone-driven force than a pro linebacker on Monday night. The magnificent burn of forewarning didn’t build. It shot down the base of his spine. There was no stopping it, though. Pleasure followed close on pain’s heels, pulsing through his cock and making the ache a sweet misery. So close. He was so close.

Fist tightening in her hair, he managed to growl, “I’m going to come.”

Her only response was to take him in again.

“Bailey, if you don’t stop...if you don’t stop I’m not going to be able to...” Her finger breeched the outer ring of his ass, pressing in gently until she brushed his prostate. Then she flexed against the gland.

The orgasm hit so hard that Griff’s eyes rolled back in his head. Bailey drew him deep. A strangled plea left his lips. He let go of her hair to cup her head. And then, hips pumping involuntarily, he gave himself over to the moment. His thighs shook, and his knees bent. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own heartbeat thundering against his eardrums like a Southern summer storm.

A strange pull in his pelvis made his eyes flutter open as his body came back online one function at a time. The realization of what had just happened drove him to his knees.

Bailey cupped his face in her hands. “Griff?”

He stared at her, mute. It didn’t matter that he spoke six languages. He couldn’t have strung together the simplest of phrases if he’d had a gun at his temple. For the first time in his life, he’d achieved an orgasm without getting his partner off. Which meant he hadn’t fed. He’d been seduced, had found pleasure for pleasure’s sake.
How?
And what did it mean?

“Say something,” she pleaded, tracing his lower lip with her thumb.

Water cascaded over him like some kind of blessed benediction and he closed his eyes. Her soft touch stole his breath. What came out of his mouth made sense. It was the depth of emotion, of feelings long dormant in frozen ground that stunned him.

All he could manage was a broken, “Thank you.”

* * *

Bailey stared at Griff, confused. His words were simple, yet not. The rich emotion seemed over the top. “You’re...welcome.” She had a hard time not making it a question.

His eyes opened slowly, boring into her with breath-stealing intensity. “Your turn.”

“I didn’t realize it was about turns,” she quipped.

A slow, sensual smile spread across Griff’s face. “Baby, it’s not. But after that?” He paused and, for just a moment, the facade fell away.

The raw glimpse into him stole her breath. Primal and undiluted, his expression relayed hope and hurt, desire and loneliness, longing and resignation. She’d known,
known
, there was so much more to him than he’d ever let anyone see, yet nothing could have prepared her for the truth. Her heart ached, recognizing each piece of him. He was suddenly a puzzle she’d solved by adding her own pieces to the mix. And wasn’t that the terrifying part? What she’d been looking for her whole life had been right here all along.

She moved into him, cautious not to convey her desperation. They weren’t only what happened in this moment. Physical connection mattered. Pleasure shared provided what she needed. But they were so much more than this, could offer each other something so much greater.