Red Hot Obsessions (73 page)

Body heat? Like from Griffin’s body? “Won’t that be inappropriate?” My teeth were chattering.

He chuckled. “Get over here.”

I did. It took a few minutes to get everything settled, but then we both lay back down again. We weren’t touching, but just being under the same blanket with him did make everything a little warmer.

Another rack of shivers went through me.

“Jesus,” said Griffin, his voice deep and rumbly. “Are you really that cold?”

“I don’t feel so cold anymore,” I said. “I’m just shivering still.” As I said it, I started shaking again. It was involuntary and violent. I felt like I was having a seizure.

Without warning, I felt Griffin’s arm slung over my torso. He slid close. “You do feel cold,” he murmured.

His body pressed up against me. He was a solid block of heat, a furnace of a man. I turned and snuggled close.

“Better?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Much.”

His arm tightened around me. His hand rubbed my back. He drew in a sharp breath and dropped his hand.

Instantly, I felt guilty. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I mean, I know you don’t want to get distracted, and I don’t mean to be cold—”

“Shh,” he said. He was talking right in my ear, his voice rich and thick. “Go to sleep.”

Right. Okay. I’d do that then. I buried my face in Griffin’s hard, hot chest, and I tried to go to sleep. But I could hear his heart beating through the shirt he was wearing. And he was so close. It energized me, excited me. I couldn’t just sleep.

He wormed one arm underneath my neck, so that I lay on it like a pillow. That seemed to make him comfortable. His breath grew slow and steady.

Was he asleep?

Dammit.

I should go to sleep too. Maybe the reason that I couldn’t was because
I
wasn’t comfortable. One of my arms was kind of pinned against Griffin’s body, after all.

I rolled over on my back. That was better, but my arm was still trapped. I tried to scoot out a little bit, but then I wasn’t as close to Griffin, and I was cold.

I rolled onto my other side, so that I was the inside spoon and Griffin was bent around me.

“Stop squirming all over the place,” he rumbled. He grabbed me by the hip and tugged me against his body, holding me there.

I gasped. I couldn’t help it. The way he touched me just seemed so intimate.

“Doll...” I could hear him swallowing.

His entire body caressed mine, enveloping me from behind. I could smell him again, his wild, untamed, male scent. My heart sped up, racing in my chest.

Griffin’s hand moved slowly over my hip, tracing its way up to my waist. His touch was feather light. I could barely feel it through my sweatpants.

And all of my rolling around meant that my sweatshirt had hiked up just a little, and there was maybe a half an inch band of bare skin between my shirt and pants.

His fingers touched it.

I let out a little noise, kind of a half-whimper, half sigh.

And I heard him let out a breath too.

His fingers eased under my sweatshirt, splaying over my bare belly.

Shivers ran up my torso again, but these weren’t bad shivers. They were delicious and exciting. If it was possible, my heart beat even faster. I turned in his arms.

I put my hand on his cheek. I turned his face to mine.

And our lips met.

The kiss started out sweet and slow, like a piece of kindling just beginning to catch fire. The heat of Griffin’s and my desire was a timid ember, first just glowing, and then eventually bursting into flame. He rolled on top of me, his mouth assaulting mine, his body pressing onto me, over me.

I ran my hands over his head, his short-cropped hair, moans building in my throat. We were kissing like crazy, like we were desperate for each other.

He pulled away, gasping for breath. “Look, doll, you have to understand that it’s been a really long time since I’ve... done anything like this. And when I did, I was a different person. I don’t know if I can even...”

“It’s okay,” I said, breathless myself. “It’s more than okay.” I sought his lips again.

His mouth met mine hungrily. His hands thrust inside my shirt on either side of my body.

Thrills ran up my rib cage from the sensation of his fingers on my bare skin.

Fingers traveled higher, finding the walls of my breasts.

I choked.

He broke the kiss. “Okay?” he whispered.

“Definitely,” I said.

He shifted so that his weight wasn’t settled on me, propped himself on one arm. “You are so soft.” He kissed my forehead. “So sweet.” He kissed my nose. “So small.”

I closed my eyes, drinking it in. He was perfect.

He put one hand inside my shirt again, sliding over my skin slowly, his touch a whisper of a caress. His fingers brushed the swell of my breast and traveled higher, inch by inch.

I could hardly breathe. He was so gentle. And it felt so nice.

His fingers grazed my nipple.

Pleasure exploded through me. I moaned.

He kissed me, still exploring my breast, cupping it in one hand.

I writhed against him, arching my back to feel more of him.

“You sure this is okay? I really haven’t—”

“Perfect,” I whispered. And, not wanting to seem greedy, I reached over and grabbed his crotch. He was hard inside his boxers. I wanted—

Griffin grasped my wrist
hard
. “Stop.” His voice was like slate.

He was crushing my hand. “Ouch?”

He let go of me.

Instantaneously, he was across the tent, leaving me alone under the sleeping bags. “You can’t just—”

“I’m sorry,” I said in a tiny voice. “I thought...”

“I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it.”

Bad idea? But two seconds ago, he’d seemed really into it. He’d called me sweet and soft. And the way he’d kissed me... “You touched me first.”

“You pretended to be cold.”

“Pretended?” Did he really think I could fake spasms like that? He had to be crazy. “I was going to get more blankets. You’re the one who started the snuggling.”

He didn’t respond. He sat there, in the dark, far away from me, and I could still taste him on my lips. “Damn it.”

“Griffin, please.” I knew he wanted me. He couldn’t have faked kisses like those. The way he was touching me, that was the real deal. No one had ever touched me like that.

He was unzipping the tent. “I’ve got to get some air.”

“But—”

“Hopefully, you’re warmer.” He crawled out of the tent and zipped me inside. “Stay here, okay? I won’t be far.”

I lay back on the sleeping bags, pulling the covers tight around me. The residual heat from Griffin’s body meant that it was still pretty warm. I lay awake, waiting for him to come back, but as much as I fought it, eventually, I fell asleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I awoke sweating. I was swathed in all of the blankets that I’d brought, at least four of them. I was alone in the tent, but I could smell coffee percolating.

I unzipped and tumbled outside.

Griffin already had a fire going. He had rigged up something similar to his contraption for sausage cooking for a coffee percolator, and flames licked the bottom of it. He smiled at me. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I said. So, he was going to pretend like last night had ever happened, huh? Great.

“So, what did Stacey tell us that we should do today?” he asked.

“Hiking,” I said. “She said we have to go look at the falls.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Was it me, or was he being overly cheery?

*

“They didn’t just make assassins there,” Griffin said from ahead of me on the trail. “They were really interested in all kinds of ways to kill people.”

“Really?” I said. I didn’t think I was crazy about hiking. Sure everything was pretty out here, but it also all kind of looked the same. Maybe I’d feel differently once I got to the waterfall. I kind of hoped so. That would mean that all of this walking had been worth it.

“Yeah,” he said. “They’re an arms corporation. I mean, did you think they made mannequin arms or something?”

“No,” I said, “but I thought they just made guns.”

“And tanks and chemical warfare too.”

“Chemical warfare? But no one does that anymore. Not since World War I.”

“Well, Dewhurst-McFarland figured that would last only until someone used them again. And then people would use them back. It’s the way war works.”

I made a face. “That’s horrible.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

I trudged after him. “Can we take a break soon?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Oh come on, doll. Keep up.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You know,” he said. “If we were suddenly being chased by Op Wraith, then you—”

“Would get shot whether I was in shape or not,” I interrupted. “Besides, I have no problem with running while I’m being chased. It’s just the exercising for fun that I don’t really understand.”

He laughed.

“So, Dewhurst-McFarland,” I said. “They did other stuff besides guns.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Crazy stuff. All of which they used on the people who they tried the serum out on to make sure that it works. Those poor sods got shot and cut and gassed—”

“Gassed? Like Hitler?”

“Yeah,” he said. “They had this room where they would gas people. And they still use it for people who have the serum. It’s an easy way to subdue them and make it easier to cut their spinal cords.”

“They gas people?” I was feeling sick. “And my dad worked for these guys? Did he know about this stuff?”

“Know about it?” said Griffin. “Of course he did. When we were breaking out of Op Wraith together, he told me that the gas room wouldn’t work on him. He said he knew the password to get out.”

“Wait,” I said. “My dad worked for Dewhurst-McFarland. Not Op Wraith.”

“No, he worked for both,” said Griffin. “He brought one of his Dewhurst-McFarland projects into Op Wraith. It was this injection that caused memory loss.”

“What?” I said. “My dad made things to make people lose their memory?” I sighed. “You know, the more I know, the more I think I was right about him all along. He was not the world’s greatest guy.”

Griffin considered. “He did some shady things, I guess. But in the end, he did the right thing. He saved you, and he opposed Dewhurst-McFarland.”

“Maybe it was the right thing.”

“You’d rather be dead?”

“No, of course not.” I took a deep breath. “Anyway, that still doesn’t make any sense. Why were the two of you escaping Op Wraith together?”

“Well,” said Griffin, “I was on my way out. Your father had to get some of the serum, so he came into headquarters. We were both on our way through to the exit when we saw each other. At first, we thought the other one was going to turn us in, but then we realized we were both running. We decided to help each other out.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”

“Your dad saved my ass,” said Griffin. “More than once. I owe him.”

Right. The part about owing my dad again. “Is that why you stopped things last night?”

Oh my God, had I just said that out loud? From the way he’d just halted in his tracks, I must have. I felt my face grow hot. I picked my way around him on the trail. “Never mind,” I mumbled. “Forget I said anything.”

I kept walking.

Was that the noise of rushing water up ahead? I quickened my pace. Maybe we were close to the waterfall. I rounded a bend. Yup! There it was. I turned. “Griffin, the waterfall!”

He was several feet behind me, walking slowly.

I grinned, forgetting all about asking embarrassing questions. “Hurry up!”

I turned and skipped down the trail, getting closer to the waterfall.

It wasn’t a tall or majestic thing like Niagra Falls or anything big. But it was very regal, in its own way. I stood staring at it, close enough to feel the spray on my face.

Griffin’s hand settled on my shoulder. “Listen, doll, I guess we should talk.”

I turned to him. “Yeah?”

He shifted on his feet. “See, the thing is, I haven’t been with a girl since I was a teenager. And that was... you know, a really long time ago.”

I remembered that he’d seemed overly worried about not doing things properly last night. “You stopped because you were afraid you weren’t good in bed? Because that’s silly. You’re amazing.”

He laughed, looking embarrassed. “That’s nice of you to say, but that’s not...” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground.

I waited, watching him. He didn’t say anything. I touched his arm. “Griffin, you can talk to me.”

He shook his head. “That’s the thing, doll, I can’t. I want to, but I don’t...”

I wished I knew how to reassure him. But I didn’t know what was wrong. “I don’t think you should worry about my dad. My dad’s dead, and the way I figure it, he owes me more than I owe him. And I like you, Griffin. A whole lot. It’s big, and I never felt anything quite like it...” It was my turn not to finish and to seem embarrassed.

“It’s not about your dad.”

I bit my lip. “Then because you think you’ll get distracted?”

He rubbed the top of his head. “Well, I do worry about that. I mean, doll, you’re kind of distracting.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You really think so?”

“You looked in the mirror lately?”

My smile widened.

He touched my cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.”

I couldn’t look at him, and I couldn’t stop smiling. “You can’t say stuff like that and then tell me we can’t do anything because you’ll be distracted.”

He groaned. “Damn it, I’m already distracted.”

I moved closer, looked up at him. “So, then what’s the problem?”

He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Someone like you, you deserve it all to be right, to be good. And I’m messed up. I’m gonna disappoint you.”

“How do you know that?” I said. “You’re amazing, Griffin. You’re strong and deadly, and you’ve been through so much.”

“Going through stuff changes you. I won’t ever be what you need.”

“That isn’t true,” I said. “At the very least, I should get to decide that myself.” I kissed him. Not one of the intense, passionate kisses we’d shared in the darkness last night, but just a quick, soft pressing of my lips on his.

He grabbed me, pulling me close. He kissed me again, harder and longer this time. “Look, maybe if we just took things slow.”

My eyes were closed. I was still reveling in the aftermath of his kiss. “Slow?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Like we could work up to certain things. You know?”

I opened my eyes. “I can do that.”

“Yeah?” He looked so hopeful.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, then, maybe I can too.” He crushed me against him and kissed me again, teasing his tongue into my mouth. I clung to him for dear life. The water crashed over rocks behind us, spraying up in little white bursts, hurrying over stones, frothing and brilliant. And I kissed Griffin until all I knew was the sound of the water and the feel of his body.

*

“So what’s slow mean?” I murmured into Griffin’s mouth. We were lying in our tent. He was lying on top of me, my shirt was pushed all the way up, and his hands were assailing my breasts. “Because this—” I gasped. “Doesn’t seem so slow.”

He laughed low and deep. He was pressed against me, and I could feel his laughter vibrate through me. He kissed my eyebrow. “This is slow. It’s, you know, above the waist stuff.”

I giggled. “Oh, so that’s the definition, then. Slow means above the waist.”

“It can,” he said. He ran a finger over my nipple.

My breath caught in my throat.

“I could have sworn you were enjoying it,” he said.

“You could say that,” I said.

He growled. “If you can still speak, I’m not doing it well enough.” He lowered his head and captured my nipple in his mouth.

I groaned.

His other hand found the breast he wasn’t suckling, and I was lost in sensation. I felt like I was floating in a sea of pink perfection. Each touch, each caress pushed me further into this world of pleasure. I closed my eyes and surrendered to it.

“Enjoying?” said Griffin.

I could only pant.

“That’s more like it,” he said, kissing my nipple.

“It’s only that it’s not very fair, is it? I mean, what about you?”

He raised his head to look at me, but his fingers still traced lazy trails over my breasts, making it hard to think. “I want this to be perfect for you.”

“It is,” I said. “I want it to be perfect for
you
.”

He slid an arm under me, pulling me against him. “I don’t mean to talk about the past while we’re being intimate, but I, um, I didn’t really do this right the last time through.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I had sex when I was in high school, but I was a typical idiot guy, you know? I didn’t have a clue about foreplay. I kind of just... went for it.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s high school.”

“So,” he said, “this time, I want to make sure I please you. I want to make up for every time that I might have used someone in the past and only worried about my own pleasure. It’s not cool. I know that now. And I want to make you melt.”

I was grinning again. I touched his chin. “Are you real? Are you a robot or something? Did someone make you to be my downfall?”

“What?” He looked confused.

“You keep saying these perfect, wonderful things,” I said. “A real guy would never say something that awesome. Ergo, you must be a love robot.”

He laughed. “A love robot?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It could happen. Dewhurst-McFarland made you to seduce and destroy me.”

“That seems like an awful lot of work. Why bother seducing you?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

His hands were on me again. “I’m not a robot.”

“Mmm,” I said. “You feel real enough.”

He slid his hand over my stomach, easing his fingers under the elastic of my jogging pants.

I gulped. “I thought you said above-the-waist stuff.”

His fingers slid lower. “Maybe we’re speeding up just a little bit.”

My mouth was dry. I tensed up. I wasn’t sure why it seemed like such a big deal. When I took guys home from the bar, they usually had their hands in my pants in five minutes. But this was different somehow.

Maybe it was because he was moving so slowly, inching down further and further.

With each new place he touched, my heart pounded more quickly, my breath grew more shallow, and it grew warmer and warmer between my legs. I’d never anticipated a touch more than this one.

His fingers grazed me, and strong shocks traveled up my body. I cried out.

He kissed my earlobe. “You’re going to have to help me. I never did figure out where I was going down here.”

I just moaned. He was doing fine.

He stroked me, his touch delicate and faint. “Here?”

I bit my lip. “Um, a little higher.”

And then he was sliding over the most sensitive part of my body. I made a sound of surrender, of giving myself over. I felt my body open to him, relaxing.

I writhed against his fingers, drowning in exquisite sensation. He had his hand right on the center of everything, and he was parting me, unwinding me, unraveling me, taking me apart strand by strand.

And I wanted him to. I wanted to help. I slithered and squirmed, making sure he had access, making sure he was able to do just what he wanted with me.

His mouth was against mine, and I was whimpering into it.

One of his hands was on my breasts, and that seemed to peel away yet another layer of me, laying even more of myself bare.

I don’t know how long it lasted. It seemed like ages. It seemed like I’d been transported again, that I’d fallen into some other place, a place where I was nothing more than a collection of sensitive parts, and those sensitive parts were swelling and gushing and opening and allowing and—

Detonation. Everything ruptured.

I came, and it was like he’d finally gotten to the center of me, like he’d massaged aside all the tension, all the things in the way. I was completely undone, splayed open, vulnerable and accepting. It was like he’d taken me completely apart. But I felt safe in his arms, lost and disembodied, but trusting and perfect at the same time.

I kissed him afterwards, clinging to him, running my fingers over his firm body, wanting him.

He stopped my hands, whispering to me to hold on, to wait, just...

He held me close.

I fell asleep in his arms.