11. It’s mine now
Chapter 11
It’s mine now
Griff
Her skin was covered in goosebumps. She was too beautiful for words. The scent of her arousal surrounded me, and I wanted more. Memories didn’t do her justice.
That musk, that sweet sandalwood scent, the leather of her jacket still perfuming her skin… and even more, there was her scent.
It was earth, fire, and smoke. Strong, sensual. The scent of a warrior woman that would not be tamed.
And that was the appeal, wasn’t it? She’d never be tamed, but she could be taken. At least for a moment. Then she’d escape, and be wild and free again, ready to be chased and tasted. Each time, ever free, ever dangerous. And so beautiful to subdue.
“You think you could get me to do something I didn’t want to?” That single left brow rose.
I had noticed that about her. She could only lift her left eyebrow, or both. But never the right on its own.
They were probably the most expressive part of her face.
“No,” I said against her throat. “Which is why you’re letting me do this now. So pick a safe word, before I lose my fucking mind and take more than you’re willing to give.”
She shook her head.
“Pick one, now.”
She shook her head again, and I was about to lose my fucking mind. Her pussy was throbbing around me, squeezing the life out of me, and I knew this was the wrong time to discuss this. I should have gone over this before I entered her. That would have been the responsible thing. But I didn’t want to be responsible. Instead, I was taking her bare, on her kitchen sink.
She deserved rose petals, and soft, leather restraints. But I was selfish enough to take what I could get.
So the safe word was just better late than never.
“Tell me something that makes you feel safe,” I coaxed, taking her lower lip gently in my mouth. “Something sweet. Something that makes you feel protected.”
“Thirteen.”
There it was. She felt safe when she was with Lucky thirteen. Our team.
My heart ached to know if she had felt safe since the team had moved on, and we’d been assigned apart. But now wasn’t the time.
Why the fuck had I been away for so long? Why did I think I could be content with just a single phone call once a year? How did I breathe without her?
“That’ll do,” I whispered against her mouth. I grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her back, taking them in one hand. My other snaked around her head, gathering the hair at her nape to control where her eyes went. “Wrap your legs around me and hold on tight.”
A safe word wasn’t permission to do everything I wanted. Not yet. I was an idiot, and out of control, but I wasn’t that irresponsible. I had been selfish and careless five years ago, and I had to do it right this time.
I could have it all if I just did the right thing now. I would not fail.
“Eyes on me,” I said, before I took her mouth, and held her to me, chest to chest, joined at the hips, her wrists in my hand, and her eyes, looking right at me.
I fucking loved it. I loved her expressive eyes. The slight fear, the pleasure, the sudden glassiness as her release drew near. I could feel her everywhere, smell her, hear her, swallow her screams, and gaze into that complicated mind as she gave in to her feelings.
Her orgasm happened fast, and hard, her legs tensing, and tensing, until they released. Her head fell back, but I didn’t let her fall away from me. I wouldn’t let her. I wouldn’t let myself go until I had carved myself into her the way I should have five years ago.
And even then… It would never be enough.
When her eyes rolled back in ecstasy, I gave myself permission to let go. I gave myself a chance to break inside her, releasing deep into her warmth.
Bare, broken, and beautifully together.
I was in complete, perfect ecstasy, when her shaky voice finally registered in my ears.
She was crying.
Panic snaked up my gut, and into my throat. I let go of her wrists, and held her by the waist and shoulders, holding her to me, as her head collapsed onto my chest.
“What did I do, sweetheart?” I mumbled into her hair. “What did I fuck up? Did I hurt you?”
The sweet, glowing satisfaction I felt in my body was blackening to something cold, and terrifying. The memory of waking up to an empty bed, alone, shot through me and I fought the urge to squeeze her too close. To hold her a little too tight, just to reassure myself that she hadn’t disappeared yet.
I felt her shake her head against my skin, her little nose rubbing against an old knife scar below my clavicle, right above my one and only tattoo.
“Talk to me, baby, please.” I clenched my jaw so tight, I thought I’d break my molars.
She placed her hands on my chest, and pulled away, just a little. I wouldn’t allow any more space between us. Nothing but just enough room for her to breathe.
“Don’t doom us before we even get a chance to start.” I pulled the hair from her face.
“That’s just it,” she said, wiping at her tears, the moisture of them adding a sheen to her high cheekbones. “You’ve just started the countdown to the end, for us. That’s why I didn’t want it. Now… I’ll lose you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Psycho?”
“There’s no future for us, Griff. There never will be.” She tried to push away more but I wasn't going to let that happen.
I wasn’t going to let her do this. Not now. This was a second chance, and she needed to grab it by the horns the way I did. She needed to hold on for dear life. She was my lifeline. Why didn’t she understand that I could be hers, too?
We were still connected, and I wasn’t going to lose my advantage. Not until she started making sense.
“I wanted us to be friends.” Her hands balled up my shirt, and her knuckles turned white. “Why couldn’t we be friends. Why? We avoided this once, why make the same mistake again?”
“It wasn’t a mistake, and it isn’t now.” I cupped her cheeks in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “I want this. So do you. Why are you fighting this so hard? Tell me?” I reined in my anger, shutting my eyes, just for a second, so I could compose myself, then asked again, slower this time, “Tell me, baby. Make me understand.”
“You’re Kai Winchester Griffith,” she chuckled, and it was the saddest sound I had ever heard. She made me hate my own name. “Your father is the Director of the CIA, your mom is the biggest socialite in New York City, and your ex-wife is a California ranching heiress. You’ll be a senator, or hell, president, one day.”
She was starting to sound like my mother, and I didn’t appreciate it. If she was trying to make me flacid, talking about my mother, and my ex, was a good way to do it.
“And I will always be… this.” Her hands flopped around her sides, gesturing to the trailer around us. “This might be the best I get. If I’m really good, and really hard working, I’ll get myself a small one-bedroom house in the middle of nowhere. I’ll get to ride my bike in the summer and read my books in the winter. But that’s the best I will ever do.”
“Bullshit.” Her self-doubt was the biggest malarkey I had ever heard, and I knew who to blame for it. Her mother. The woman didn’t deserve the damn title. Neither did mine but, shit, hers really took the cake.
“It’s the truth.” She wiped the flood of tears away again, and I couldn’t help but think that she looked beautiful.
I loved the emotions on her face, even the tragic ones. Because when Taz Guerro laughed, cried, smiled, or smirked, you knew it meant something. It was real. Nothing about her was contrived or cultivated. Every flick of those expressive brows was genuine, and soul-deep.
“You and I met in the Army, where we were the same rank, and had the same housing allowance.” She wrapped her arms around her abdomen, crossing them beneath her breasts, trying to pry more distance between us. “But out here? In the civilian world? We’re lightyears apart.”
I wrapped her in my embrace, pulling her in until her arms were sandwiched between us. She could erect a barrier, but she wasn’t allowed to pull away. Not this time.
I was grappling for the right thing to say. I needed time. I needed to prove her wrong.
Hell, I was good at proving her wrong. I loved fighting her and coming out a winner. It was one of my favorite pastimes.
Another thick tear crawled down her cheek, and I leaned down, darting out my tongue to taste the salt-flavored sorrow. When another fell on the other side, I did the same, and I laughed, when her faced scrunched, like she was disgusted and perplexed.
“I licked it,” I said, “now your hurt is mine.”
Her face fell, her head dipping forward, before she let out a small laugh.
“I’m not taking any more of your whining, Psycho,” I said, quietly, placing my lips on her forehead. “I know you’re in pain, and I get it. I’ve got pain too. But that has nothing to do with us.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No. You’re wrong.”
“No. You’re wrong.” She mocked.
“Brat.”
“Prick.”
“Bitch.”
“Twat.”
I kissed her, just to shut her up. She kissed me back, and that was a start. When I pulled away, her arms had gone limp at her side, her body surrendering to this pull between us.
“I’m going to take you to bed, and when I wake up, you’re still going to be there, got it?” I loved her glassy eyes on me.
She looked vulnerable, and free. Like that big brain of hers was quiet for just a minute. Orgasms had made her walls come down, and she was sweeter than she had been in a long time.
“You’re not the boss of me,” she said, but it lacked all conviction before she grew serious. “We’re playing a dangerous game.”
I chuckled, kissing her again. Just a peck, this time. A casual kiss. Somehow, that was even more intimate than when I had stuck my tongue down her throat.
She was right about one thing… we were playing a dangerous as fuck game.
As far away as my job might seem at this moment, it still loomed over us like a dark cloud.
The things we’ll do to Trinity Blaze Guerro…
I had said that they had better bring an Army. But I had a sinking feeling that an Army was already on its way.