My bones are liquid, my body on fire. “Both.”
He growls his approval, and the low vibration pushes me tantalizingly close to the edge. Griffin lets go of my wrists and catches my hips instead.
I sway, sinking my hands into his hair for balance. “I want you inside me.”
He groans, drops lower, and then pushes his tongue into me.
I gasp, the first hot waves of release rolling through me. The climax grows, and I cry out, helpless to hold anything back. My fingers tighten in his hair, and Griffin’s shoulders and arms flex, tensing to hold me up because I’ve gone limp in his hands.
He clamps me to him, his mouth coaxing trembling aftershocks from me that I can barely take. I feel weak, my skin flushed and thin. I’m achingly aware of Griffin’s big, strong body, of its pure, masculine vitality, and of the power it holds over mine—the lust, the trust, the overwhelming pleasure. My senses spin, so heightened that I feel every drop of moisture beaded on my skin. One slips down my inner thigh, and Griffin follows its path with his tongue. My lips part, and I moan.
He looks up. Warm steam replaces his even hotter tongue, licking over me. Storm-gray eyes glitter from under thick lashes, clumped and spiky from condensation. His face is flushed with heat, and damp hair sticks to the sweat on his temples.
“Turn.” One word, the command so deep and sexy that my stomach flutters wildly.
I don’t even consider disobeying. I turn, and Griffin grips my waist, his large hands nearly circling it. He feathers kisses over the small of my back, and I shiver, goose bumps flaring on my skin. Then he bites one rounded side of my bottom hard enough to make me squeal.
He licks where he bit. “Brace yourself against the rock.”
Catching my lower lip between my teeth, I do as Griffin asks. My hands touch the warm, moist boulder.
He rises and sweeps my hair aside, kissing my shoulder and then my neck. His hands splay over my ribs, and my breasts grow heavy, aching for his touch. Griffin leaves his hands maddeningly still on my sides, not sliding them up. Desire and heady tension gather inside me again, coiling deep in my belly. I push backward with my hips, needing to feel him.
Griffin presses back with a low, masculine sound that sets my whole body alight. “Spread your legs,” he rumbles in my ear.
I widen my stance, and he drags my hips back. He leans over me, his fingers pressing into my sides. “You are my heartbeat and my every breath.”
I exhale, the air leaving my lungs with a soft whoosh.
Griffin wraps one arm around my waist, lifting a little, and uses his other hand to position himself. He enters me with one long, slow stroke. Then he surrounds me, holding me against him with one arm and bracing his weight against the rock with the other, his hand right next to mine.
My head falls back against his shoulder. I turn my face, he turns his, and our lips meet.
He moves slowly, his rhythm far from steady but heartbreakingly intense. The rawness of his lovemaking overwhelms me, just like everything his great, trembling body is telling me along with the pounding thump of his heart against my back.
“Do you remember the first time I told you that you were mine?” Griffin asks.
I drag my cheek over his jaw, drinking in his ragged breaths. His slow, deep thrusts leave my head spinning. “You forbade me to die.” His declaration terrified me. Secretly thrilled me. Maybe even made me feel safe for the first time in my life even though I’d just been shot.
Griffin’s much larger hand curls over mine on the boulder, lacing our fingers. “It wasn’t about the vow I bargained out of you, forcing you to stay with me.” He lets me take back my weight, and his now free hand slides up my abdomen to cup my breast. He teases my nipple with the tip of his callused thumb. When he pinches the pebbled peak, giving it a wicked little tug, sensation erupts inside of me.
He starts to move faster, turning our joining harder. His skin slaps mine in the damp heat, the sound incredibly erotic. He dips his head and presses his lips to that spot below my ear that always turns me into a hot, jumbled mess. “I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were meant for me. That I was never letting you go.”
I flex my fingers under his, grasping for balance as my heart pounds and my whole world tilts. “That makes one of us,” I gasp out.
Griffin rocks into me hard, pushing me up to my toes. My heavy heartbeat thuds between my legs.
“You knew, too,” he rasps in my ear. “You knew the second our gazes locked across the crowded fair. Your chest rose. Your lips parted. Your green eyes shimmered like emeralds, and they were all I could see.”
I envision myself through Griffin’s eyes—flushed, nervous, excited. Maybe some part of me did know that night, and then I denied it for weeks, refusing that instant, visceral spark.
“You were full of spirit and daring, and you made me laugh. I loved you from our first conversation. I yearned for you to love me back.”
I want to answer, to tell him that I’ve loved him for far longer than either of us knew, but I’m too caught up in the feel of him moving inside me. His confession and his body drive me toward a shattering release. Pressure builds until I can scarcely breathe. I moan, and Griffin shudders behind me.
His hand squeezes mine on the rock. He thrusts into me and roughly tugs my nipple again. Pleasure blazes through me. The assault on my senses is too powerful. Gasping, I slam my free hand against the boulder and then cry out when the spasms rock me.
Griffin’s guttural groan and the tightening of his muscles around me send a wash of heat down my spine. He clutches me hard through his own climax, and I want to give and give and give to him until I almost cry with the need.
