21. Anika #2
Heat flushes through me. Half indignation, half something else I don’t want to examine too closely.
“You’re completely overreacting,” I say, forcing a laugh that sounds hollow even to my ears.
“No. I’m reacting exactly enough to make sure he never comes near you again.”
Griffin’s jaw tightens, a muscle twitching along his temple. His eyes fix on mine, and the raw possessiveness I see there makes my breath catch. I’ve seen Griffin focused on the ice, but I’ve never seen him like this. Primitive and dangerous.
Wilde’s warning echoes in my head.
Griffin could be dangerous.
“He didn’t touch me,” I say firmly. “And even if he did, that would be none of your business.”
Griffin’s eyes flash. “It absolutely would be.”
“Griffin, what’s gotten into you?”
“I saw the way he was looking at you.” His eyes scan my face like he’s searching for something. “If he so much as looks at you wrong…it won’t end well for him.”
A waiter passes by, giving us a wide berth, and I realize we’re creating a scene. I grab Griffin’s hand and pull him toward a far wall beyond the bar, away from the curious stares.
“You can’t fight everyone who talks to me,” I whisper-shout once we’re semi-private.
His eyes darken. “Watch me.”
“Griffin,” I say through gritted teeth. “You need to calm down, right now.”
“Tell me who he is,” he insists. “And why are you meeting him in St. Moritz? Did he bring you here?”
“It’s none of your business who I meet or why.”
“Tell him you’re taken,” he says suddenly. “Then tell him by who.”
I blink, caught off guard. “I’m not taken.”
His eyes lock with mine, steely and unwavering. “Aren’t you?”
The intensity of his stare makes my stomach flip. It would be so easy to give in to whatever this is between us. But…Okay, I can’t exactly think of a reason why I shouldn’t let him kiss me silly right here, right now. Clearly there’s something wrong with me.
He rubs his face, his voice softening just a fraction. “Look, you left the gala and ignored my texts for days. Then you show up here, in St. Moritz of all places, and now you’re having intimate, late-night dinners with a strange guy…with admittedly great hair?”
“Griffin!”
“You’re not leaving with him tomorrow after the game,” he says, cutting me off. “That’s not a request.”
There’s something in his voice. A note of desperation beneath the command that makes me pause.
“What are you really doing here, Griffin?” I ask quietly. “Because whatever it is, it’s clearly way over your head.”
Something shifts in his expression. A flicker of vulnerability beneath the jealousy.
“I’ll tell you everything,” he says finally. “Just…Let’s go somewhere private to talk.”
I gulp, thinking of all the wrong things. “Your…room?”
“No. Not my room. The…walls are too thin. Your room.”
My mind races as I realize I’ve backed myself into a corner. I need to get into Griffin’s room to plant the bugs, not bring him to mine.
“Actually,” I say, stalling. “I think your room would be better. I, uh…my room is a mess.”
Griffin’s jaw tightens, a darkness crossing his features. “Your room is a mess because he’s in it, isn’t he?”
“What? No.”
“That British guy,” he practically growls. “Durand. Is he in your room right now?”
“Of course not!” I sputter, genuinely offended. “Why would you even think that?”
“Because you’re acting strange, Anika.” He steps closer, invading my personal space in a way that makes my heart stutter. “Evasive.”
“I’m not being evasive!”
“Then let’s go there. Now.” His voice leaves no room for argument.
I press my lips together,
“Look, Griffin, it’s late. We’re both tired.”
“He doesn’t deserve to be in the same room as you,” Griffin interrupts, his voice dropping to something dark and possessive. “And if he forgets that, I’ll remind him.”
“There’s no one in my room,” I snap, frustration bubbling up. “And even if there was, it wouldn’t be your business.”
“It absolutely would be,” Griffin says, his voice dropping dangerously low. “I don’t share.”
Heat floods my cheeks with something I refuse to acknowledge. “Share? Share what exactly? I’m not yours to share!”
“You didn’t see it, but I did. The way he watched you tonight.”
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, brushing past him toward the elevators. I jab the button with more force than necessary, fuming.
Griffin follows, his long strides easily catching up. “Anika, wait.”
“I need to go to bed. Alone,” I emphasize, glaring at him. “And you need to get some rest before tomorrow’s game.”
The elevator arrives with a cheerful ding that feels wildly inappropriate for the tension crackling between us. I take a step inside, hoping he’ll take the hint and stay behind.
When Griffin moves to follow me, I place my hand against his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath my palm.
Instead of backing away, Griffin places his hand over mine, trapping it against his chest.
Then he steps forward, backing me inside the elevator. He towers over me, his body radiating heat and his eyes burning with something that makes my knees weak.
“We’re not done talking about this,” he says, backing me against the mirrored wall. His hands plant on either side of my head, caging me in with his considerable height and breadth.
The proximity is overwhelming. I can count every eyelash, see the faint stubble on his jaw, smell the faint trace of whiskey on his breath. For one wild moment, I think he might kiss me again. A part of me—a reckless, stupid part—hopes he will.
Instead, I duck under his arm and step to the front of the elevator. “Yes, we are.”
I should be alarmed. I should push him out of this elevator. Instead, my traitorous heart gallops in my chest begging for more, more, more.
And then his mouth is on mine, hot and demanding. This isn’t the gentle, questioning kiss from the helipad. This is possession, pure and simple. His hands cradle my face as he deepens the kiss, and for one shameful moment, I melt into him.
His body presses against mine, solid and warm, and I find my hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders.
My fingers brush against his collar, then dig into his shoulders as the elevator lurches upward, matching the swooping sensation in my stomach.
Griffin’s mouth moves hungrily against mine, like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that can satisfy him.
His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me impossibly closer.
I arch into him, my fingers tangling in those perfect curls I’ve been dying to touch since the first day I saw him.
“Anika,” he groans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me like electricity.
His hands travel down, one settling at the small of my back while the other traces the curve of my hip. Each touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake. I’m melting, dissolving, becoming something molten and desperate in his arms.
The elevator continues its ascent, each floor chiming softly in the background.
A countdown to when this madness must end.
But I don’t want it to end. I want to stay suspended in this moment forever, where there are no spies or schemes or bugs to plant.
Just Griffin’s mouth hot against mine, his hands mapping every curve.
My fingers slip beneath his shirt, feeling the warm skin there.
I should push him away. I should remember why I’m here. But Griffin’s touch is intoxicating. It makes me feel reckless.
I find myself yanking him closer, nipping at his lower lip.
He makes a sound somewhere between a growl and a moan that just sends me…Where it sends me, well that’s a question for future Anika.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment you broke into my cabin,” he murmurs against my jaw, trailing kisses down my neck.
“I didn’t break in,” I gasp as his teeth graze my pulse point. “I had the key.”
“Semantics.” His laugh is a warm puff of air against my skin. “You were still trespassing.”
“Are you going to punish me?” The words slip out before I can stop them, husky and inviting.
He pauses just long enough to look at me. His eyes darken to midnight. “Is that what you want?”
My heart hammers wildly. Yes. No. I don’t know. I can’t think straight with him looking at me like that.
Griffin’s fingers trace my collarbone, dipping lower to the edge of my dress.
Then his mouth is on mine again, hungrier this time. My back presses against the mirrored wall as his hands roam restlessly, like he can’t get enough. One slides up to cradle my jaw while the other moves to my hip, his thumb tracing maddening circles there.
My fingers tangle in his hair, and he makes a sound deep in his throat that sends liquid heat coursing through me. The rational part of my brain grows fainter with each passing second.
Griffin breaks away only to trail kisses down my neck, his stubble creating a delicious friction against my skin. I gasp when he finds a particularly sensitive spot just below my ear.
“Found it,” he whispers smugly, and I can feel his smile against my skin.
I tug his hair in retaliation, which only makes him groan and press closer. His body is solid and warm against mine, and I can feel his heart hammering in his chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
The elevator slows, a subtle shift that signals we’re approaching a floor. Griffin doesn’t seem to notice, his arms curling around my waist, lifting me slightly so I’m on my tiptoes.
With a cheerful ding, the doors slide open.
“Oh my!” a female voice gasps.
We spring apart like guilty teenagers. An elderly couple stands in the hallway, the woman’s mouth forming a perfect O of surprise, the man’s bushy eyebrows shooting up toward his receding hairline.
“We’ll just take the next one,” the man says, adjusting his glasses as if he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing.
My cheeks burn as I smooth down my dress. Griffin looks deliciously disheveled, his hair mussed from my fingers, his lips slightly swollen.
“So will he,” I say, shoving Griffin toward the door.
He stumbles backward, looking adorably confused as he finds himself standing beside the elderly couple.
The woman gives Griffin an appreciative once-over, then winks at me with a knowing smile.
“Smart girl,” she whispers. “Always leave them wanting more.”
“Anika, wait…”
“Goodnight, Griffin,” I say firmly, jabbing the ‘close door’ button repeatedly. “For what it’s worth, I hope you win tomorrow.”
The doors slide closed on Griffin’s stunned expression. I collapse against the wall, my heart pounding from that earth-shattering kiss, which was…unexpected. Overwhelming. Perfect.
As the elevator continues upward, I pull one of the bugs from my pocket, turning it over in my fingers.
“If you’re listening, Wilde,” I whisper to the tiny device. “Mission accomplished. I successfully planted the device on Griffin. One bug down, one to go.”