Chapter 16 A Ceremony and an Occasion and a Freaking Celebration #2
Griffin opened it for him, closed it behind him, and locked the handle. When he turned back toward me and leaned against the door, his stare was molten, his hunger for me written all over his face.
God, could he get any fucking sexier?
He wore low-slung jeans, Vans, a belt with a silver skull for a buckle, and a short-sleeved Thrasher t-shirt that was tight enough across his chest and arms to outline his lean muscles. Ink peeked out from under his sleeves, accentuating his tanned, olive skin.
He ran his hand through his dark hair, mussing it, and licked his lips, like I was a creamy cake, dripping in icing, that he craved and was about to plow into.
Day-um.
He grinned wolfishly, showing straight, bright teeth.
The rogue vanished. His smile softened.
He sauntered toward me with a swagger that was natural, all sexy Griffin.
When he was a few feet from me, I said,
he said, dragging me into his arms so fast I stumbled.
He caught me. He always caught me.
I frowned for a beat before remembering our deal, hurrying to wipe the indignation from my face.
My insides simmered. My core clenched.
I stiffened.
He shrugged, making even that couldn’t care less tip of his shoulders hot.
I was going to say something more. Maybe they probably thought he was here to check in on me since I said I wasn’t feeling well, or how lucky it was that my room was on the second floor and on the opposite end of the house from the kitchen and outdoor deck, the main two places they ever breakfasted.
What exactly I was intent on saying, though, I no longer recalled.
His plush lips caught mine and kissed me—softly, lovingly, enchantingly.
It didn’t take long before I wanted more—more, more, more, and still fucking more.
I wanted all of Griffin Conway.
I escalated the kiss and he followed my lead, devouring my mouth, caressing my tongue, sucking on my lips. Consuming me. Enrapturing me.
My hands roved along his shoulders, back, and chest. Across his arms and waist. I clutched and rubbed and scratched.
I was reaching for his ass while he was reaching for my towel. I squeezed through his jeans, gorgeously molded to his even more gorgeous body, as the bath towel cascaded to the floor, leaving me completely naked—and him completely dressed.
He stepped back to admire the view. Instantly, my body missed the heat of him. My skin pebbled. More so, my nipples hardened to stiff, tender peaks.
Another time, he licked his lips; I didn’t think he realized he was doing it. My breath caught. Never had a man looked at me like this.
Like I was everything he’d ever wanted.
Like he was instants away from feasting on me.
Like he’d die happy if he could just devour … and devour … and devour me.
My arousal was hot and wet between my thighs. His pressed proudly and eagerly against the fly of his jeans.
I could think of nothing beyond my desire to be consumed by this man. He smoldered, making it blessedly easy to forget everything but him.
And fuck, did I ever need to forget everything else.
To lose myself to him.
Allow him to lose himself in me.
As if we were of one mind, we suddenly and swiftly stalked toward each other, eradicating those few steps that separated us.
Griffin yanked off his t-shirt while I unclasped his belt, then his jeans. He was stepping out of his shoes and socks when, without ceremony, I tugged down his boxers.
No preamble was needed when his dick was this beautiful. As it sprang proud and free, his cock was a ceremony and an occasion and a freaking celebration all on its own.
In a frenzied tangle of fevered kisses and roving hands, we shuffled over to my bed. The energy between us was frantic. Even so, he slowed down to guide me reverently onto my comforter.
He was still lowering himself onto the bed when my legs parted for him all on their own. My body was a hussy ready for action, and shit if I didn’t mind it one bit.
Propped on his elbows to either side of me, he held much of his weight off me as he settled between my legs. His erection pressed stiffly against my inner thigh when his eyes met mine.
I swallowed.
I chortled darkly.
I offered a grimace in apology at breaking our pact.
Griffin said.
I breathed, realizing we could be speaking aloud as this kind of talk would be expected. But then, what we said to each other wouldn’t be private.
He hissed in a sharp breath through his teeth.
He stared deep into my eyes.
My core clenched sharply, and I swallowed.
He dragged his gaze from my eyes to my mouth, across my collarbones, to my tits. He flicked his tongue over one nipple, then the other. My back arched, pushing my boobs into his face, wanting so much more of that tongue action.
Licking them again—and drawing a moan from me—he spoke to my tits.
I discovered myself frowning. No, pouting—jeez.
Even with his stare on my breasts, he noticed and laughed.
Another pulse of my core.
He growled possessively, a deep rumble that vibrated his chest. His eyes blazed as they pierced mine.
The declaration was raw and rough as gravel.
My insides tightened. My inner slut was apparently conspiring to get me pregnant. She was gonna have to cool her fucking jets, stat.
The question was out before he suddenly flicked his stare up to my face.
He nodded, eyes big and earnest.
Did we really, though? There was a very high probability that we might die tomorrow. Hell, we might die later today.
I hoped.
I gulped, surprised this wasn’t easy to say, that it felt too vulnerable.
His eyes glistened, making the bright hues in the hazel pop.
I asked.
His lips lowered to mine in a soft, gentle kiss that touched my heart.
He lifted his hips, notched his swollen tip in my hot, supple entrance … and pushed inside with a single thrust.
My eyelids fluttering closed, I gasped.
Never had anyone—fuck, anything in my entire life—felt so right.
So. Right.
He lowered his chest to mine and whispered in my ear, over and over again, loud enough for only me to hear, while he thrust deliciously in and out of me.
“I love you. I love you. I love you, my dream girl.”
I almost came from his declarations alone.