Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
He reaches out and softly touches my cheek, letting his thumb graze back and forth. “If it meant keeping you safe, I’d take worse, sweetheart.”
His words are delivered so soft that they feel almost like a physical touch. I can hear the gentle honesty in them, too. I close my eyes as emotions I’ve never felt before in my life, hit me.
I feel like I can’t breathe.
“I …”
His hand lifts up to my hip. I feel his fingers slide under my pajama top, grazing the skin and I exhale, letting the air shudder through my body. His touch is light, careful, but it heats me all the way to my bones.
“I’m fine, Georgie,” he says, voice soft but certain. “You’re good and I’m here with you. That’s all I need.”
I want to argue, to tell him how reckless that sounds—but I can’t find the words. So instead, I finish patching him up and then put a bandage over the wound. When I have it done, I slowly step back. I don’t go far. I can’t, because he still has a hold on my hip. If I’m completely honest, I don’t really want to go anywhere either.
“There,” I whisper. “All done.”
He smiles at me, slow and grateful. “Guess I owe you one now, don’t I?”
“You owe me at least two,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “One for almost giving me a heart attack, and one for bleeding on my rug.”
His laugh rumbles low in his chest. “Fair enough,” he admits as he stands beside me. “I guess I should try to pay you back a little now then, right?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, rubbing my lips together to moisten them, because suddenly it feels like my body is on fire.
His scent of cigarette smoke and leather surrounds me and I never thought those two combined smells could appeal to me, but God I was so wrong. He leans down, his forehead nearly touching mine. “I just want to show you my appreciation,” he murmurs.
For a moment, everything else fades—the gunfire, the fear, the world outside. It’s just us, breathing the same air. His hand moves, sliding under my pajama top again. My eyes flutter as the sensations hit me. It feels like the sweetest torture to feel his fingers skate across my tummy and move higher. I shift on my feet, bite down on my lip, and do my best not to beg him to throw me down on the bed and take me. That’s not who I am. It’s especially not me knowing my grandmother is in the next room. Griffin has me feeling things that I’ve never felt before though. I’m not myself around him. It’s scary, but it’s also exhilarating. His tongue completely takes over my mouth. He growls, making sure I know he loves every second of it. It sends vibrations through me that I feel all the way to my toes. When I feel his fingers slide against my breast, I’m completely lost. Common sense is gone. I just want more.
I whimper as I feel his thumb sweep across my nipple. “Please,” I beg, not exactly sure what I’m asking for, but just knowing I need it. Then, Nana’s voice cuts through the door like a siren.
“Georgie! There are some hot men out in my driveway! I’m definitely enjoying the eye candy, whoo! Those men are hotter than an Arizona summer during a heatwave. Still, they seem to be getting restless. Is Griffy still alive?”
When he pulls away, I press my face into Griffin’s shoulder. “Cockblocked by your grandmother,” he mutters. “Fuck.” His words shock me, but strike me as funny, too. Which means I giggle because I can’t stop myself. “Laugh it up, baby. I’m the one with blue balls that you’ll have to take care of later.”
That wakes me up from the trance Griffin’s kiss put me into. “Umm…” I hum.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Griff laughs quietly, his arm sliding around my waist as he whispers, “I love your Nana. She’s special.”
“She is,” I agree, still resting my head against his shoulder. “Griffin?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think I’m the kind of girl you think I am,” I warn him, trying to make a point, but realizing my words are about as clear as mud. Apparently, my brain is still rattled. Why couldn’t I just say that I wasn’t going to be touching his balls, let alone anything else?
“I don’t know you yet, Georgie, but I can tell you one thing that I do know for sure.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re exactly the woman I want and you’re mine.”
I’m his? Shit. I think I’m in trouble. “I’m not. The kind of woman you want, I mean.”
He laughs. “Trust me, baby. You definitely are.”
“I’m not. I’m not the kind of girl to play with balls. I don’t even think about balls,” I respond shaking my head like a crazy woman—mostly because I’m panicking that the hot guy in front of me thinks we’re going to have sex on the same day that I actually met him.