Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Griffin
We leave when Terry’s starts dimming the lights, which I’m told is how they ask you to leave without asking.
The night air hits us both at once. Piper tips her face up toward it and breathes deeply. I've noticed she's been doing that the entire trip. Every time there’s open air, she takes a breath as if she’s gathering it. Like she’s been indoors and airless for a long time and is still catching up.
“Good evening,” she announces to no one in particular.
“It was,” I agree.
“The ribs were great.”
“So was the company.”
A flush creeps up her neck.
She looks at me from the corner of her eye with that smile she’s had since beer number two. It’s this easy, genuinely happy version. I’ve been cataloging the different versions of her smile all week. It’s a hobby that is rapidly becoming a problem.
The road between Terry’s and the motel is about forty yards of gravel and bad yellow streetlights. We cross it with a small distance between us. I keep it there on purpose. Lately, it’s taking more effort, and it’s working less and less.
She stops at the door of our room, leaning back against it with her head tipped up toward me. There’s barbecue sauce on her shirt, her cheeks are flushed from dancing, and her hair has fallen out of whatever tie she had in.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
“Tonight was fun,” she says quietly and steps closer. Too close. She smells like beer and warm skin, and a little like the shampoo from that motel shower she used earlier.
My pulse spikes.
Her fingers brush mine, and something tightens low in my stomach.
“Griffin.” My name, coming from her like that, feels like a hand sliding around the back of my neck.
I need distance. Anything. A fire alarm. A fucking sinkhole.
“Let’s—uh—get inside,” I say.
She nods and pushes off the wall.
The room is dim, but the lamp casts a warm glow across both beds.
The door clicks shut behind us.
She turns to face me and everything in me locks up.
Her chest rises and falls quickly, her lips are parted, and she’s looking at me like she’s seeing every thought I’m holding back.
“Griffin,” she says again, softer this time. “Thank you for tonight.”
“You’re welcome,” I manage, though my throat is dry.
She steps closer.
I step… nowhere.
Because for the first time since she ran out of that church, I have absolutely no control.
She reaches out and smooths my collar. It’s just a small brush of her fingers. Completely innocent.
Except it isn’t. Not when I feel it everywhere.
“Piper,” I warn.
She tilts her head. “What?”
I don’t know who moves first.
Maybe we both do.
Maybe we’ve been moving toward this for days.
Her breath hits mine. Her fingers curl in my shirt, and then she kisses me.
Or I kiss her.
Doesn’t matter who starts it. The second our mouths meet, everything snaps.
Hunger floods through me so quickly that my knees almost buckle. She makes a sound, and it stirs something primal from the depths of my spine. My hands find her waist, then her hips, then her back, pulling her in close. Too close and not close enough.
She fists the front of my shirt and drags me down harder.
The kiss is messy. It’s hot. It’s pulling and searching, a week of tension detonating at once. Her mouth opens under mine, and I swear every rational thought burns to ash.
I break away for a breath I don’t even take.
“Fuck,” I choke out. “We shouldn’t—”
Her lips find my jaw, my neck.
I’m not sure which one of us is shaking.
“Yes,” she whispers into my skin. “We should.”
I’m gone.
Absolutely gone.
I crush my mouth back to hers, and she moans into it, hands sliding up my chest. I grab her hips, hauling her in so her body aligns with mine. I feel heat everywhere. Her thigh brushes my leg, and my pulse spikes hard enough that my vision blurs at the edges.
I follow when she stumbles back, kissing her like I’m starved for it. Because I am. Because I’ve been starving for days.
When her back hits the wall, she gasps.
My hands flatten on either side of her head, then slip down her ribcage to her waist.
She grips my arms. “Griffin,” she breathes.
I rest my forehead against hers. My lungs feel too small, and my restraint feels paper-thin.
“We need to slow down,” I get out. “We need to think.”
She shakes her head, eyes dark. “I’ve done nothing but think for years. I’m tired of thinking.”
Her hands slide under my shirt. Skin on skin. My restraint explodes.
I kiss her again, pouring every ounce of my hunger into her.
She arches into me, and it’s over.
Absolutely over.
When I lift her, her legs wrap around me without hesitation as her breath stutters in my ear. My hands dig into the backs of her thighs as her mouth finds mine again and again.
It’s hot.
It’s desperate.
It’s wild.
We stumble toward the bed. Her fingers slide into my hair as she nips my lower lip between her teeth. I swear to God, I almost black out.
I’m losing myself in her, for her, because of her.
I lower her onto the bed and follow her down, but instead of kissing her again, I slow down. I press my hands to her ribs, feeling the quick rise and fall of her chest.
Her eyes flicker open, confused.
I kiss her jaw, then her throat, then lower, tracing the line of her collarbone with my mouth.
Her breath catches as I slip my hand beneath her shirt, feeling her soft, warm skin before I push it up.
She lifts just enough to let me take it off and toss it somewhere behind me.
She’s half-naked, hair wild against the motel pillows, flushed and watching me with something that looks like disbelief.
“Hey,” I murmur, pressing a kiss between her ribs. “Relax.”
“I just…” She lets out a shaky laugh. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
She stills.
It takes her a second to say, “Ezra never—he didn’t like it.”
I freeze for a second, then look up at her, hand still resting on her hip.
“That’s a damn shame.”
Her eyes go glassy as a slow flush rises up her chest. When I press my mouth lower, she finally exhales.
I use my tongue to trace the lace of her bra before I finally unhook the back. Her breasts spill out, and I take one into my mouth, sucking the nipple. She whimpers, her back arching off the mattress.
“Griffin, please,” she begs.
She’s still in her jeans, so I undo the button with a flick of my thumb. Her hand is over her mouth like she doesn’t trust the sounds she might make.
“Don’t do that,” I murmur. “I want to hear you.”
She drops her hand.
I kiss down her stomach, unzip her jeans, and watch her hips rise as I slide them off, taking her underwear with them. She’s flushed all over now, blinking up at the ceiling like she can’t quite believe this is happening.
Neither can I.
Because I’ve never wanted someone like this. Never wanted to give this much. Not just lust, though there’s plenty of that, but something deeper. Something I don’t know how to name.
I spread her knees wide, settling myself into the notch of her thighs. I use my thumbs to part her, exposing the slick heat.
When my tongue finally finds her clit, her whole body jerks like I’ve hit her with a live wire.
“Griffin!” she cries, her hands flying to the headboard.
I swirl my tongue, then take the tiny, swollen bud between my lips and suck.
Wrapping my arm around her hips, I hold her steady as her fingers fist the sheets. I take my time, learning every reaction, every twitch, every breathless sound she makes. She’s quiet at first, like she’s unsure if she’s allowed this.
But when she finally lets go, when she moans and says my name like it’s the only thing she knows, I nearly lose my mind.
She’s trembling, but her hands are in my hair, and her body is arching.
“Jesus,” she gasps. “I think this is how I die.”
I glance up, my mouth still on her. “Not a bad way to go.”
She laughs, but then the laugh cuts off with a cry when I focus again. I slide two fingers inside her and watch them disappear into her heat before I start a slow, relentless pump while my mouth stays glued to her clit.
The sounds she makes are raw, guttural moans that vibrate against my tongue. I flick faster, my fingers curling, finding the spot that makes her toes curl into the sheets.
“Griffin, I’m—I can’t—”
“Do it,” I growl against her skin, my voice thick. “Come for me, Piper. Let me feel it.”
I increase the pressure, my tongue flicking rhythmically while my fingers drive deep. She’s sobbing now, her hips bucking helplessly against my face. Her muscles start to clamp down on my fingers, pulsing in tight, desperate waves.
Then she shatters.
She screams my name, her body rigid, her clit throbbing against my tongue as she comes in a long, violent rush. I don’t pull away. I stay right there, drinking her in, fisting her hips until the last of the tremors die down and she sinks back into the pillows, completely spent.
I press a kiss to her inner thigh, then her stomach, then her chest as I crawl back up beside her.
She’s still catching her breath, lips parted.
I brush her hair off her face.
Christ, she’s so fucking beautiful.
She stares at me like I just cracked something open inside her, and… maybe I did.
“Still think I didn’t have to?” I murmur.
She shakes her head, laughing under her breath. “No. No, I really needed that.”
I grin and lean in, kissing her slowly.
Her hands come up to cradle my face, but they don’t stay there long. She’s impatient, her fingers hooking into the hem of my T-shirt and yanking it upward. I sit back on my heels just enough to let her peel the fabric over my head and toss it blindly toward the floor.
Her hands drop to my waist, her breath hitching as she fumbles with the heavy metal buckle of my belt. She’s shaking, and I have to reach down to help her. Our fingers brush as I thumb the leather loose and shove my jeans and boxers down.
My body is already pulsing. It’s been building since the bar, since the moment she looked at me like I was something more than the man who helped her escape.
I lower myself over her, and her legs part for me like it’s instinct. Her heel digs into the back of my calf, anchoring me. Her fingers rake down my bare back, and when our bodies finally press fully together, skin to skin, she lets out a breath that sounds like relief.
I grind against her once, just a slow, heavy roll of my hips, and we both curse under our breath. The friction of her wetness against me is enough to make my head swim.
“I don’t have anything,” I say roughly, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye. “Wasn’t exactly top of mind when I rescued a runaway bride.”
She laughs, breathless, her eyes dark with a hunger that matches mine. “Well, you should’ve planned better.”
“Yeah?” I murmur, brushing my nose against hers. “What kind of rescue mission were you hoping for?”
“The kind where I get absolutely wrecked in a shitty motel bed.”
I groan.
She grins, still flushed, still loose and beautiful beneath me. “I have an IUD,” she says. “But if you give me anything, I will kill you.”
I bark out a laugh, my forehead still pressed to hers. “Clean. Swear to God.”
“Good,” she whispers, her legs wrapping tighter around my waist, pulling my heat closer to her entrance.
That’s all it takes.
I reach between us, line myself up, and push in slowly. It takes restraint, but I want to feel every inch of her, every twitch, every inhale. Her breath catches, her legs tightening around me, and when I bottom out, we both go still.
“Holy shit,” she breathes.
My arms tremble with the effort it takes not to move.
I dip my head and kiss the space beneath her ear. “You okay?”
“Better than okay,” she pants. “Move, Griff. Please.”
I pull back, then drive into her again.
She moans, a sound that hits me right in the chest. Her nails dig into my skin just enough to mark the territory as she meets me stroke for stroke, her hips rising to meet mine with a desperate, perfect friction.
It’s fast. It’s messy. It’s that raw, unpolished heat that makes you forget everything but the person beneath you.
The motel lamp flickers, casting jagged shadows on the wall, and I forget every logical reason I had for staying away.
All I know is the slide of our skin, the sound of her breath hitching, and the way she gasps when I bury myself completely.
After a few minutes, her head tilts back against the pillow. Her brows furrow. She’s breathing heavily, biting her lip, her body vibrating with a tension that isn’t quite releasing.
She’s right there, but she’s stuck.
“Piper,” I rasp, slowing the rhythm just enough to catch her eyes. “Talk to me.”
She lets out a short, frustrated exhale. “I’m fine. It’s just—it’s always been like this. I don’t usually come this way. It’s fine, Griffin. Don’t stop.”
I slow to a complete halt, my weight braced on one forearm. I lean in close, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Wanna bet?”
Before she can argue, I slide my hand down between our bodies. Her eyes fly open, her pupils blown so wide they’re almost black.
“Griffin—”
I find her clit with my thumb, swollen and soaked, and I start to circle. Her mouth falls open, her breath stuttering into a series of broken sounds.
“Oh my God,” she chokes out.
“That’s it,” I whisper, my eyes locked on hers. I want to see this. I want to be the one who does this to her.
She bucks into me, her hips going wild. Her hands fist in the sheets, then my hair, then the mattress. My name falls out of her mouth over and over—gasps, moans, pleas that make my own blood roar in my ears. I don’t stop moving inside her, and I don’t stop the relentless pressure of my thumb.
When she finally shatters, it’s violent.
She screams, her body going rigid as she wriggles under me, her internal muscles clamping down on me in a series of punishing pulses. She’s loud. She’s raw. She’s completely undone.
And seeing her like that? Hearing her? My control doesn’t just snap; it disintegrates.
I bury myself as deep as I can go, groaning into the crook of her neck as I come so hard that it steals the air from my lungs. Everything blurs into a haze of heat and skin.
Then, slowly, the world stops spinning.
We stay tangled, our breaths coming in ragged, synchronized bursts. Her arms are still curled around my shoulders, her fingers limp now. My hand rests over her heart, feeling it thud against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Neither of us says anything, because what the hell do you say after you’ve just rewritten so much history in twenty minutes?
Eventually, Piper exhales a stunned laugh against my chest.
“Okay,” she whispers, sounding like she’s still half-dreaming. “So you win the bet.”
I smile into the curve of her shoulder, my pulse finally slowing to a dull throb.
I stay exactly where I am, still inside her, still breathing her in, already ruined for anyone else.