CHAPTER 4
WE SLEEP. WELL, GRIFFIN DOES, ANDIWATCH HIM. HE’Sclearly exhausted, with dark shadows under his eyes that not even the thick sweep of his inky lashes can hide. Even at rest, there’s an unusual tenseness around his mouth. I don’t close my eyes. I got plenty of sleep while I was finishing healing, escaping reality, and holed up in what turned out to be the one place no one thought to look for me.
I’m not exactly comfortable. The bed is small for Griffin. For both of us, it’s ridiculously tight, but there are worse things than being trapped against and tangled up with the man I love. The blanket is scratchy. The bare mattress isn’t much better. And it’s hot, but I’m learning to deal with that. Even like it. Sort of. It’s Griffin, so I can take it. Besides, whenever I try to wiggle away from him, even just a little bit, his arm tightens around me. Even in sleep, he’s not letting me go.
Finally, the torch gutters and dies. Oddly, it’s the sudden darkness that wakes him up. With a husky groan, Griffin nuzzles my neck as he sweeps his hand up my back. My leg slips between his, and I cling to his shoulders, loving the feel of all that solid muscle under warm, smooth skin. His already rock-hard arousal presses against my lower belly. When I press back, he makes a low, masculine sound that sets me on fire.
He curves his hand around my hip, holding me firmly against him. “Remind me to do some hiring. I need to employ a legion of poets.”
I kiss the underside of his scruffy jaw, rubbing against him. I can’t help myself. He feels so good. “A legion? That’s a lot of poets.”
“It’ll be worth it if one of them can possibly come up with the words to describe how much I want you right now.”
I’m on my back so fast it makes me dizzy. I laugh, already breathless with anticipation. “You just had me.”
“If it wasn’t within the last eight minutes, it doesn’t count.”
“Oh, it counted.” It counted so much I’ll never forget it as long as I live. My stomach dips at the memory of Griffin spanking me, of his unrelenting grip on my wrists, and of the explosive fullness when he finally thrust into me. Who knew that being so utterly at the mercy of another person—a person I trust—could be so fantastically exciting?
Griffin grunts and sucks hard on my neck, I’m sure leaving a mark. “Why do you always argue?”
I grin, not that he can see in the pitch-black. “Because I’m always right.”
He chuckles. “I’ll let you get away with that.”
Laughing, I wiggle underneath him. “Get awaywith that?”
“Yes. I have more important things on my mind.” He demonstrates by sliding down my body. The rasp of stubble, his hands and lips, and teeth and tongue make me forget not only what we were talking about, but how to talk. I grip his hair and mumble incoherently. With his mouth between my legs, he does a dozen different things that turn me inside out. My mind blanks, and pleasure takes over, leaving me throbbing and trembling in its wake.
The strength of my climax unleashes my unpredictable magic, and lightning bounces off the stone walls long enough to illuminate Griffin’s face. He looks smug and satisfied under a messy tumble of midnight hair.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Did that count?”
The room plunges back into darkness. “Uh…” I can’t think. I’m supposed to talk?
His laugh is a deep, rich rumble. “I guess all that purring and panting wasn’t what I thought it was.”
“Nope.” I giggle, sounding absurd. Or happy. Or both.
He sighs, a smile in his voice. “Obviously, I have more work to do.”
“Obviously,” I say, feeling amazingly light. Lies must weigh a lot—at least on me.
Never one to waste time, Griffin gets right down to proving he’s up to the task.
There’s something incredibly sensual about making love in the total dark. Anticipation is magnified, heightened until every touch becomes a heart-stopping mystery waiting to be solved. A whisper of breath across my skin has me tensing in eager expectation. The warm brush of lips leaves me shivering with desire. The subtle tightening of Griffin’s grip intoxicates, just like the surprise of a nip, or the low rasp of a groan. In the quiet dark, our breath and our bodies speak a language of their own, weaving a spellbinding story in which only the two of us exist.
Griffin rocks slowly above me, his deep, thorough strokes branding me from the inside out. Sweet tension coils within me, and I cling to him, gasping every breath until I shatter in his arms. He follows me, shuddering, his face in the crook of my neck and his muffled roar a song in my heart.
Aftershocks ripple through us. I sigh into Griffin’s hair. It smells of citrus and bright summer sun. I feel changed, once again forever altered by the man still gently pulsing inside of me.
He loves me anyway.
We both sleep this time. I wake up to Griffin striking my stumpy piece of flint to light the oil lamp. With him sitting on the edge of the bed, his considerable weight buckles the small mattress so much that I have to brace myself to keep from rolling into him.
“This wouldn’t have lasted long,” he mutters, finally getting a decent enough spark to light the wick. “You’d have gotten three fires out of it. Maybe four.”
I rise to my knees, slip my arms around his waist from behind, and kiss his shoulder. “I wasn’t running away, remember? I could have, you know…gotten more?”
