I’d let my hair down after the party, and Griff brushes it to the side. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, and my heart hammers against my ribs. Until he turns me back to face him. He knows. It’s in his eyes. In the furrow between his brows. In the way a muscle in his temple throbs. “A tattoo. One you had removed.”
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Griff calls my name, probably worried I’m running away. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
When I return with a pen and one of the hotel notepads, he breathes a sigh of relief. On the small piece of Baur au Lac stationery, I draw the crown, an approximation of the barcode, and the series of numbers Dimitri said would forever mark me as his. I still remember them. Even after all these years.
“The barcode isn’t right. I never figured out how the numbers and those stupid lines paired up,” I whisper. “We all had one. Every girl…the first night…was shown what he expected of us. Then, after we were too broken to fight back, one of his men would tie us down on a rough wood table and mark us.”
I’d give anything to erase the horrors of those nights from my memories, but I’ll carry them with me forever.
“Whenever he brought a new ‘shipment’ of girls into the house, we all had to watch. His way of making sure we never forgot what we were.”
Griff takes the paper and balls it up with such force, I’m surprised the fibers don’t simply disintegrate in his hand. Stalking over to the gas fireplace across from the couch, he tosses the remains inside and watches it burn, his shoulders heaving with every breath.
I can’t talk to him until he turns back to face me, and with how tense he is, I’m actively afraid of touching him without warning. Unable to stand it any longer, I stamp my foot twice, hoping the vibrations will register.
He whirls around, and as his gaze locks with mine, I know without a doubt, this man would kill to keep me safe.
“We’re going to find him. No one is good enough to hide forever.” His right hand shakes, and even his prosthetic is balled into a tight fist. “I don’t care how smart he thinks he is or how well funded, he’s going to make a mistake—soon—and my team will make sure he never hurts anyone again.”
The absolute conviction in his voice is almost enough to reassure me, but in a little over forty-eight hours, I’m supposed to fly home. Back to San Diego. What then? I can’t ask. Because what am I supposed to do with the answer?
Griff crosses the room in three steps, then reaches up to skim a knuckle along my cheek, slowing my racing thoughts. I try to smile. “I’m sorry I ruined our night.”
“Don’t apologize. You didn’t ruin a thing.”
I lean into his touch, needing more. “What now?”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart. We could get in bed and talk or sleep or—”
“Kiss me?” After dredging up so much of my past, I need to know Griff’s feelings for me haven’t changed, and I’m too much of a coward to ask.
His smile reassures me more than any words, and when our lips meet, everything else in the world falls away, and it’s just the two of us. He hasn’t taken off his prosthetic, and his left hand molds to my hip, strong, yet gentle too.
Smoothing my palms down his back, I savor the feel of his muscles shifting under my touch. He keeps his kisses short, soft, letting me set the pace, and when I capture his lower lip between my teeth for just a second, a low moan rumbles in his chest. I have no idea what I’m doing. My entire education in kissing came from soap operas and movies over the years, but with Griff, my body—or at least my mouth—seems to know exactly what to do.
Warmth blooms in my core, then tightens into a ball of pure need. My fingers dig into the hard muscles of his ass, and he tears his lips from mine. “Bedroom,” he says, his voice rough. “Or tell me to stop.”
“Bedroom.” I don’t want this to end. Griff leads me into our room, shuts the door, and yanks off his t-shirt. As soon as he catches sight of the metal running from his wrist to the sleeve covering the prosthetic to his elbow, his confidence fades, his shoulders slumping unevenly. “Griff.” My fingers trail across his chest to his shoulders and all the way down both arms. “What’s wrong?”
“I haven’t been with anyone since,” he gestures to his left arm. “All my ‘moves’? I need both arms. I’m not even sure I can be on top, and this…your first time—if we get there—should be perfect.” His voice cracks, and he stares directly at my lips. I’m not sure he’s even breathing.
“It will be.” I wish I knew the right words, but I’ve never had…romance. Or tenderness. Or anything but violence and pain. “I trust you, Griff. And I don’t trust anyone. Or didn’t until my life fell apart a week ago. Not truly. My mama and sisters don’t even know everything that happened to me. You do. Most of it, anyway. And the rest? I’ll tell you. Not tonight, but tomorrow. Or the next day. Or whenever you ask.”
My eyes burn and water, but I won’t let myself cry. I want this one night. To reclaim a piece of myself that was taken away so long ago with this man who looks at me like I’m his only tether in a storm.
“Please. Kissing you is exciting and thrilling, and when I’m in your arms—with or without your prosthetic—I’m safe in a way I’ve never been before. You touch me, and I want more. Every time.”
“Get on the bed,” he says quietly. “There were condoms in the mini-bar. I’ll be right back.”
He rushes from the room, and I pull back the covers. After so many hours in that form fitting dress, I put on a loose pair of shorts and a tank top. My nipples strain against the fabric, and every movement highlights just how sensitive they are.
You’d think I’d have some idea of what to expect, but I don’t, so I sit with my feet on the floor, my fingers tapping my thighs so I don’t start chewing on my bottom lip.
When Griff returns, his dark blue eyes blaze with intensity. The door closes, and he strides toward me without breaking his gaze. I expect him to touch me, to push me down or even kiss me, but instead, he sinks to his knees and takes my hands in both of his. “Sloane, this is probably too soon. But what I feel for you? This stopped being a job for me the moment I talked to you in the bar before you even knew who I was. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted another woman in my entire life. But I meant what I said. If you can’t…if we don’t end up having sex tonight—or ever—I don’t care. As crude as it sounds? I can get myself off if I need to. But finding a woman I don’t have to hide from? Who accepts me the way I am?” He shakes his head, staring down at our joined hands. “Nothing in this world is more important to me than you. Nothing.”
If I try to speak, I’m scared I’ll burst into tears. The longer I stay silent, though, the more worried Griff looks. “I used to hate myself for trusting bad men,” I whisper. “Then I hated myself for not trusting…anyone. Maybe…maybe I wasn’t supposed to until now.”
