Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Honey
Gryff storms out the back door, and it slams with a bang that echoes around the tiny home.
I wince.
Things were going so well. He even opened up to me. He was laughing and smiling and playful. I thought that was progress.
Then I had to go and ruin it all by letting him see for a moment how much I want him. How much I wanted him to turn that innocent play into something far less innocent. Something that would have hurt him if he’d been anyone else.
I shake my head, trying to clear away the images of what it would have felt like for Gryff to close the distance between us and cover my lips in a kiss.
He would be warm and sweet. Something in me just knows. He would taste of firewood and smoke, of clear mountain air and rugged unwashed man, all of it at the same time. And he would taste like coming home.
I hate that I now know what it feels like to be held firm in his strong arms, to be touched and caressed and stroked to the sweetest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life with his low rumble in my ear.
I hate that I’ll never, ever be able to stop dreaming about that moment.
And I hate that every day as I make myself cum it’s going to be that image I return to over and over because I’ll never feel the real thing again.
I hastily wipe a stray tear from my cheek. It’s silly, crying over a man I never really had. I should go make myself cum quickly while he’s busy. This is probably his way of giving me a nudge to do just that. I’m certain he could smell how turned on I was getting.
I don’t, though, which is irresponsible. I just can’t make myself.
Instead I gather up the pizza and put it into the fridge for later and go into the bathroom and brush my teeth and get ready for bed.
It’s early yet, but I don’t want to face Gryff coming back in angry and sullen after he’s had to go out in the dark and how he’s had to give up his bed and put me up in his house.
I feel bad about that until I push aside the dreamy pink canopy and crawl into the center of the large double bed and it feels like I’m cocooned in a flower like a spring fairy.
Wow. I did not picture this as what Gryff’s bedroom would look like, but I see why he likes it.
I run my hands over each cushion, feeling the velvety softness of one and the fluffy embrace of another until I find my very favorite one, a gossamer pink velour pillow which feels like a newborn kitten.
I sigh, sinking down into the bedding until it blankets me.
The bed even smells faintly like Gryff, warm and masculine and a little bit like woodsmoke.
There must be something I can do to thank Gryff for helping me out the way he has.
I know he says he’d do anything for my parents, but that doesn’t feel like enough when he’s had to give up this amazing bed.
I wonder if he’d like it if I baked brownies tomorrow?
But then I’d have to make a mess of his kitchen, and that might make him mad.
I’m sure he’d rather if I did something that got me out of his hair for a while.
Then it hits me. His yard is a mess. Tangled weeds growing every which way and grass almost up to my elbow. Which is funny, because I know he helps my dad out with our yard, so it’s not like he’s bad with yard work.
Maybe he’s so tired from working on my parents’ house all the time he never gets a chance to do his own yard. That’s sad. I resolve to put on some old clothes tomorrow and get stuck into those weeds and see if I can return the favor. That way I’ll leave him to himself and do something useful.
That decided, I switch off the bedside lamp and listen for sounds that indicate Gryff has come back inside. The quiet chirp of crickets from outside and the rustle of leaves in the tree are all I can hear, though. So I close my eyes.
The next thing I know I’m outside, the wind playing in my long, loose hair, which trails down my back and leaves a shiver of sensation.
It’s because I’m naked, I realize, looking down in surprise to see my bare toes curling in the long grass.
I smile. It doesn’t feel wrong to be naked, only delicious and sensual.
The feel of the air on my skin is perfect, the night sky seems to reach down to caress me softly with each gentle breeze.
It’s fine, I realize, because I’m dreaming, but it’s a lovely dream, so I let it flow on and enjoy it.
I Iook around me, wondering where I am, but I don’t recognize it. There are trees all around me, tall, proud ones that stretch up toward the full round moon which hangs low overhead.
An owl hoots unseen from a tree nearby, and I follow the sound, stepping forward tentatively only to find the ground soft and covered in lush green grass.
There’s a growl from behind me and I jump, looking around.
I see nothing but the pale trunks of trees and the dark of the forest. I’m not frightened of the growl.
Instead it feels like a game of hide and seek, right when the seeker calls ready or not.
I press my hands over my mouth, trying not to laugh and give myself away.
All of a sudden, I take off at a run, pumping my arms and dodging through the trees. Though they are, of course, fixed in place, they seem somehow to sway gently out of my way as I wind between them, breath catching high in my throat, heart pounding in my chest with excitement.
The sound of footsteps in the grass behind me makes me squeal. There’s a prickle up my spine as I anticipate the moment of being caught, of being pushed to the ground and pinned down.
I grow damp between my thighs as I run from whatever is chasing me. My body longs for the heavy weight of my pursuer, the feeling of being captured and held.
There’s a snarl, and the world spins around me. I land on my back, staring up at the moon with a large, hot, furry body pinning me to the forest floor. A familiar body that’s held me once before.
And though I love it, I writhe anyway and fight. And press my legs together, longing for an invasion that never comes, begging with jumbled words for something I know I need but can never have.
My clit throbs, and I wish I could reach down to touch myself, but my hands are held fast. I’m trapped. I whine in frustration, longing for release, for pleasure. “Please, Gryff. I need it so badly.”
He growls low, teeth right against my throat. “I know it, babygirl. I can smell it. You want me to take care of that for you?”