I rolled my eyes, turning my attention back to the baby, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re just hungry, aren’t you, love? Let’s get you fed.”
I moved toward the kitchen, but Griffin followed, his presence unmistakable at my back. I ignored him and grabbed the bottle, focusing on Hazel.
“We should start packing soon,” I muttered once Hazel started sucking on her bottle.
I’d hoped it would distract him. Instead, his fingers brushed my waist, light, barely there, but oh how I felt every graze.
“Griffin!” I whirled around and glared up at the willfully obtuse sod.
He smiled, but didn’t back off. Slowly, he leaned down, his breath skimming my cheek. I twisted, nearly knocking into the counter. Hazel let out a startled hiccup.
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
I swallowed hard, adjusting Hazel’s bottle. “You can’t just?—”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m feeding your daughter.”
“Yeah, and I tried to kiss you, and you nearly threw yourself across the room to escape it.”
My grip on the bottle faltered. “Because it was inappropriate.”
His laugh was quiet, humorless. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“Yes.” I turned, carefully shifting Hazel in my arms as I met his gaze. “Last night shouldn’t have happened. And it’s not happening again.”
“You don’t believe that,” he said, watching me closely.
I had to.
“It shouldn’t have happened.”
His jaw flexed. “That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s the only thing that matters.”
“I don’t agree.”
Before I could react, Griffin closed the distance between us. His fingers gripping my chin, tilting my face up. His lips met mine. I should have pulled away the second his fingers touched my face, shut this down before it could start, reminded him—and myself—that this couldn’t happen.
But I didn’t.
Because his lips caressed mine with a gentleness I hadn’t known he possessed. He kissed me like we had forever, savoring rather than claiming.
Soft. Persuasive. I expected lightning and received gentle, life-giving rain that was more devastating than any storm.
I should have expected him to fight me on this. He was stubborn, relentless, trained to chase the impossible. A man whospent his life addicted to the risks that would make most people hesitate.
His touch almost made me believe that anything was possible, that none of my reasons for putting distance between us made sense.
And for one impossible second, I nearly did.
If we were different people in a different life, I might have let my fingers twist into his shirt, let my body press against his, let myself chase the slow drag of his mouth against mine.
But wanting him didn’t change our reality. It didn’t erase the fact that I worked for him, that my father would lose his mind if he found out, that I had two months before I walked away from this life and never looked back.
