“I should get dressed,” she muttered, but she wasn’t really talking to me.
“Should you?” I kissed the edge of her throat.
She sucked in a breath.
Good.
She could pretend all she wanted. Pretend she wasn’t shaking. Pretend her fingers weren’t still tracing circles on my ribs, like she couldn’t help touching me even while her brain screamed at her to stop.
“You’re going to say this was a mistake,” I murmured, dragging my nose along her jaw. “And I’m going to tell you to try again.”
Her throat bobbed. “Griff?—”
My lips brushed her ear. “Didn’t sound like a mistake twenty minutes ago.”
A shudder ran through her, before she got a grip on herself. Her hands found my chest, but not to pull me closer.
“Don’t,” she murmured, barely above a whisper.
I angled my head, brushing a kiss just beneath her jaw. I couldn’t stop touching her. Some part of me terrified that if I stopped, I’d never get to again. That this moment would evaporate like tire smoke after a perfect start.
“Don’t what?”
Her voice faltered. “Make this into something it’s not.”
I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Liar.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. This is something. It was something when you moved in and you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”
Her whole body stiffened and I tilted my head, studying her, watching every small betrayal of her resolve. Her pulse sped up, her fingers curled against me like she wanted to hold on instead of push me away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I dragged my nose along her jaw. “Don’t you?”
“Stop!” She shoved at my chest, harder this time.
I let her have the space. But only just.
She pushed herself up, hair mussed, lips still red from me, and she refused to meet my eyes.
Not fucking happening.
I reached for her wrist before she could bolt, fingers curling around delicate skin. Not tight. Just enough to make her pause.
“Don’t run from this.”
Her shoulders tensed. “I’m not?—”
I laughed, a rough sound. “Really? Because it looks a hell of a lot like running.”
She swallowed hard, still staring at the floor like if she avoided my gaze long enough, I’d give up.
I wouldn’t.
Not when her bare breasts heaved, still flushed, still fighting a battle she’d already lost. Not when I could still taste her on my tongue.
