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“We’re alone now, pretty girl.”
“You know what I mean.”
Griffin’s eyes were hooded and his breathing labored. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I need to feel you inside me.”
He gripped her cheeks like she’d done to him a moment ago and kissed her harder than she’d kissed him. “I need to love you,” he whispered. “Let me love you, Aine.”
—:—
It took every ounce of restraint Striker could muster not to lock the door and strip her bare. He knew they’d have to wait until she’d healed before he could give her what she wanted, but there were so many other things he could do to her in the meantime. He’d trail his lips over every inch of her body until she was ready to scream his name in pleasure. He’d bring her to the brink of an orgasm, pull her back, and take her right back to the edge until she begged him to let her finish. He would, then, because he would know that it was so much more powerful than it would’ve been if he’d let her fly all the other times.
“I know what you want, but I’m going to give you what you need, Aine,” he told her so many times. She’d cry; she’d plead, and she’d beg, but he wouldn’t relent until he was certain he’d pushed her as far as she could go. There was so much more he wanted to show her, do to her, and he would, as soon as her body could take it.
He adjusted his jeans and nipped her lower lip when she giggled. “You just wait,” he warned her.
“I’m already there,” she told him, no longer smiling. “I need you, Griffin.”
“Soon, baby. I promise.”
“I need you now.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled it under the blanket until he touched her sex. “Please,” she begged.
He let his fingers rest against her. Stroking her softly. “You aren’t ready for this,” he murmured, biting at her nipple through the hospital gown.
“I need it. Don’t make me wait.”
Striker’s deft fingers went where she wanted them, and he gave her what she asked for. Slowly, softly, gently, but that’s all it took. Within seconds, she drenched his fingers as her hands gripped his arm, holding it in place, wringing every ounce of pleasure she could from him.
They both jumped at the sound of the door opening, but rather than jerk his hand away from Aine, he slowly removed it from under the blanket and clutched her fingers in his hand.
“Good news on your MRI,” the doctor said, looking between the two of them. “Nothing abnormal showed up. As long as you have a good night, you can go home tomorrow morning.”
“That’s wonderful,” murmured Aine, clutching Griffin’s other hand.
“What time?”
“I’ll be in early for rounds, so I’d say around ten. Again, as long as you have an uneventful night.”
The doctor eyed their clasped hands and shook his head. “See you in the morning.”
“Are you going to stay?” Aine asked after the doctor walked out.
“If you want me to.”
“I know I’m being selfish, and I’m sure you’d sleep much better in a real bed, but…”
Striker smiled and ran his finger over her bottom lip. “I never sleep better than when I’m with you. Real bed or not.”
She kissed the fingers he knew carried her scent. “I love you, Griffin.”
“And I love you, Aine.”
“Why are we stopping here?” Aine asked Striker the next morning when he pulled into the parking lot of Cambria Shores Inn.
“I want you all to myself for a couple of hours.”
Aine smiled, and her warmth settled on him like a blanket. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
