“I don’t want to hurt you,” Griffin added, his touch growing even softer, like the brush of a comforting breeze.
“You won’t.”
“I never want to. I’ll never, ever mean to.” He was referring to more than just the physical. “I really meant it when I said it, you know.”
I inched back toward him so that the heat of his body slid across mine. The lengths of our bodies were nearly touching.
“Meant what?” I asked. Now look who was fishing.
“That I love you. That I’min lovewith you.”
I sucked in a gasp. To hear him say it again, and like this …
Slowly, so slowly, so that his fingers slid across my stomach as I turned, I faced him. “Say it again,” I breathed, scooting closer so that when he draped his arm over my waist our bodies were flush, my breasts splayed against his chest, nothing but a wisp of cotton separating our bare flesh.
He traced his hand up my back, across my shoulders, and over to my neck. Gently, he pulled my face to his. So we’d fit together better, I hooked a leg over his hip.
Softly, he growled, like he wasn’t ready for that kind of touch, that kind of proximity. Like he’d thought we’d work up to that. And surely we should have. There was so much newness to explore together before we let ourselves have sex. Because once we started having sex, I knew we’d never want to stop. I, at least, would need to remain in this bed with him for at least twelve hours a day, every day. Fuck Magnum Chase and all this immortality business.
His lips resting on mine, he whispered, “I love you, Joss Bryson.” He groaned. “Or whatever the hell your last name really is.”
Not even the fresh reminder that our entire lives were stupid façades could ruin this moment for me.
“And I love you, Griffin Conway—or whatever.”
I giggled. Like we weren’t currently living in the eye of the most massive shitstorm of our lives. I’d never been one to giggle. This man was upending my life already and we were only just getting started.
With his lips still against mine, he said softly, “We need to take this slow.”
“I know.”
“We have to,” he murmured. “I can’t let myself have you all at once, no matter how badly I’ve wanted you. No matter how much I want you, I need to drag it out.”
“Mmmmm-hmmm,” I said, the vibration of the sound tingling our joined lips.
“If it’s too much, too fast, tell me to stop.”
A breathy laugh. “Good luck with that, mister. Since when am I the picture of restraint?”
He groaned, and when I adjusted my hips I discovered him erect, his hard dick pressed against my stomach.
Totally wanton and unabashed, I groaned too.
“Ignore that,” he grumbled. “He can wait. Hewillwait, dammit.”
“Mmmmmmmm,” slid out of me as I ground my core against him. A part of me wanted to take it snail-level slow with him. But my body clearly had other ideas.
“Joss, don’t—”
I swallowed his protests whole as I kissed him the way I’d dreamed of kissing him in so many of my fantasies. He hesitated for only a millisecond before his tongue slid across mine, and we both moaned together. With my leg, I pulled him more tightly against me and clawed at his shoulder, sliding into his hair, tangling and tugging. I wanted to touch him everywhere at once.
“Holy shit,” he murmured against my mouth. “Fuck …” Then he legit growled before spinning me onto my back, his legs coming to rest between mine. Instantly, I wrapped my thighs around his hips and pulled him against me. His cock throbbed against the rapidly dampening crotch of my underwear.
“Joss, fuck,” he panted, kissing me as if he were a dying man, dragging his lips across my neck. Already, my nipples were hard points, doing their damnedest to lure his mouth to them.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck,” he chanted down across my collarbones, and I bathed in the delight of so easily bringing him to incoherency.
Knowing it would push him over the edge, with the sultriest voice in my arsenal, I rasped, “Just wait till you feel what it’s like to be inside me.”
