She bit her lip but continued to stare straight ahead. Ofcourse he knew what she’d done. It was what they always did. So why did it feel frightening to her tonight instead of freeing?
“Not to worry,” he continued. “I know precisely how to play the subject-change game. Another dinner party for Gemma would be lovely, thank you.” His smile was pat.
She lifted her chin. “I only want Gemma to be happy and find a good match.”
Griffin downed more of his wine. “But not alovematch?”
Meredith froze. She knew what he was up to. Love was a subject usually off limits for them. At least it had been ever since the night before Griffin had gone off to war. But she would not take his bait. Instead, she merely shrugged. “If Gemma thinks she’s in love, all the better. I would never tell her no such thing exists.”
He turned to Meredith and narrowed his eyes again. “How can you be so certain it doesn’t exist?”
“You know you and I shall never agree on this topic,” she replied, somewhat impatiently.
His voice was low, inquisitive. “Why, Meredith? Why are you so set on never marrying again? Why do you think you were a terrible wife?”
She sucked in her breath. “Why are you so set on discussing it?” she countered.
“Why do you think?” he countered.
“Why must you always answer my questions with a question of your own?” Her voice was nearly a whisper.
“You want to know the identity of the woman I love. I want to know why you don’t believe in love. What happened with Maxwell, Meredith?”
She closed her eyes and expelled her breath. She wanted to tell Griffin the truth. She truly did. But… “I cannot tell you. It’s just too…too…humiliating.” She opened her eyes again.
Griffin shook his head. “We’re friends, Meredith. We should be able to discuss these things.”
“Don’t you think Iwantto tell you?”
He shifted in his seat to face her. “Just tell me one thing then, Meredith. I need to know. Is it…does it have to do with your…intimate relations with Maxwell?”
Meredith’s cheeks flamed. She pressed her fingertips to them as if to cover her shame. “Yes,” was all she could manage. “Please don’t ask any more.”
“If there’s one subject I don’t want to know anything else about,” Griffin breathed, “it’s that. And I certainly don’t want to torture you.” Setting his wine glass aside, he took her hand and rubbed his thumb across the tops of her knuckles. “Let’s discuss something else. If you don’t believe in love, what do you believe in?”
She lifted her gaze to his and blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”
He leaned toward her and held his mouth just above her ear. “How aboutpassion, Meredith? You went looking for a lover, didn’t you? I assume you believe in passion.”
Meredith closed her eyes and tipped her head back. He was going to kiss her. Griffin, maskless Griffin, her best friend, was going to kiss her, and of course she wanted him to.
And then his lips were on hers and there was no earthly reason she could think of to push him away. She wanted him, just as she had at the Onyx Club. She wanted him badly.
“Yes,” she whispered as Griffin’s hot kisses rained down her neck. “I believe in passion.”
Griffin’s mouth returned to hers and his lips parted over hers, coaxing out her tongue. When the kiss deepened, her arms moved up his strong shoulders and around his neck. She pulled him toward her. He leaned over her until she fell back on the sofa and his body moved into place atop hers.Intimately fitted to his length, her fingers moved up to tangle in his soft hair.
Oh, God, yes.
It might be wrong, but this was what she’d wanted. This was what she’d been dreaming about night after night. She may have allowed Mr. Sapphire to touch her, but it was Griffin she’d fantasized about. She’d wanted him all along. No masks. No pretenses.
His mouth moved to her ear and gently traced the shell of it, while his left hand moved down to her hip. She tipped back her head, allowing him better access to her neck. He kissed slowly along the column and dipped lower to kiss her along the edge of her bodice.
He tugged on the smooth fabric and when her breast popped free, his scorching mouth covered her nipple. His teeth grazed across her bud, then he nipped it, and Meredith cried out. “Griffin,” she moaned as he tugged the peak deeper into his mouth and sucked it hard.
Her core ached. Her hand moved down to touch the outline of his hard length beneath his breeches. She rubbed him up and down.
He clenched his jaw. “Meredith, please. Don’t do that. I can’t?—”
