Slow Burn: A Bad Boy Romance (Assassins Book 1)
Page 17
He opened his eyes. “Yeah.”
I put my hands back, exploring the planes and angles of his body. He was powerful and firm, but also silky under my touch. I ran my fingers over him, pulling off his shirt, pushing him back on the bed. I seized the front of his pants, undoing the button.
And I was on my back suddenly, the wind knocked out of me.
Griffin stood at the edge of the bed. He’d thrown me off him.
I sat up.
“This was a bad idea,” he said. He looked anguished.
Guilt stabbed me. “I’m sorry. I pushed. I shouldn’t have tried to—”
“You should be able to do that, though,” he said. “You should be with someone who will let you touch him.”
I reached out and took his hand. “Come here.”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s not your fault, doll.”
“Can’t you talk to me? I don’t understand.”
He swallowed. He took a deep breath. He fiddled with his hands. He looked down at his stomach, staring at the crude tattoo there. He closed his eyes. “I can’t.”
I touched the tattoo.
He recoiled as if he’d been burned.
And then, abruptly, it made sense. A horrible, repellent sense. “Oh God,” I whispered.
He raised his gray eyes. They looked wounded and destroyed.
“Griffin, did something happen to you?”
His jaw twitched. His gaze flittered away from mine.
“Did something happen to you in prison?”
“Yes,” he choked out.
“Oh God,” I said again.
He stood up. The bedroom had two inlaid dormer windows that looked out over the water. He walked away from the bed, over into the alcove that contained one of the windows, and he rested his forehead against it. “Not some thing, though. It wasn’t like it was once.”
“Oh God.” I didn’t seem to be able to say anything else.
“I told you that I was a minor, but that they sent me to an adult facility, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
He was still staring out the window. “I was a scrawny kid back then, and I’d never spent any time learning to defend myself. I didn’t need too. No one had ever tried to hurt me before. I was weak and tiny. I was their wet dream.”
“Griffin.” I wanted to go to him. I wanted to say something. A comforting thing. But what could I say to something like this? I had no idea how to comfort him. And there was no way I could make it better.
“It happened the first day.” It was like he’d somehow been released, like the words were tumbling out of him. “And it wasn’t just one guy. There were a bunch of them. They held me down, not that I could really fight back. I didn’t know how to do anything like that. I tried, but I couldn’t do anything. That was the worst part of it, I think. Fighting so hard and being completely helpless. There was a moment when I realized that I couldn’t do anything about it. That they were in control of what happened to my body. Them. Not me. It was like something in me snapped. It broke me.”
I flinched. It was the worst thing I’d ever heard.
“They forced me to do things. They...” Only now did he seem to falter for words. “Raped me.”
The words hung there in the bedroom with the both of us. He was half-naked, silhouetted in the window, and he suddenly looked so vulnerable.
I got up off the bed and went to him. Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around him from behind. I waited for him to stiffen, or to stop me, but he didn’t. He put his hands over mine.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. It was inadequate. It was stupid. It didn’t even come close to making up for the horror he’d been through.
“It’s not your fault,” he said.
“I meant that I...”
He lifted my fingers to his mouth. He kissed them. “I know what you meant.”
I lay my head against his back. He breathed.
“It wasn’t just once either,” he said. “The tattoo was a mark. Who I belonged to.”
“Jesus.”
He shivered. “You know, when we were playing that drinking game at your house. Never have I ever given a blow job.”
Oh. Oh, God. I shut my eyes against it.
“I should have taken a drink.”
“No,” I said, and I moved around to face him. “Because it’s not the same thing. You didn’t give anything. People just took it.”
His eyes looked bright, like there were tears trapped in them.
I wanted to hold him, to engulf him. But he was too tall, too much bigger than I was. I led him back to the bed. I pulled him down with me, and he crawled into my arms, his head against my breasts, his arms wrapped around my waist. I cradled him, trying to hold as much of him as I could.
His shoulders shook.
But he didn’t make any noise.
And when he lifted his face, his eyes were dry. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I want to make love to you, Leigh. I want it so bad.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “Don’t worry about. You’ve been through too much to ever worry about me.”
“But sometimes when you touch me, I don’t know why, but... it’s like I’m back there again. Like I’m trapped there and it’s all I can see or think or taste or smell and—”
“You don’t have to ever—”
“And I don’t want that with you. I don’t want to feel like that with you.”
“Griffin, please. I won’t ever try to do anything again.”
He pulled away. “That’s not what I want.”
I was surprised by the forcefulness of his words. “Okay.”
He softened. “No, I mean, I want you. I want you to touch me, and I want to enjoy it. I don’t want to give that up.”
“Of course you don’t,” I said, understanding. “Because then they never stop taking things from you.”
“Exactly.”
I caressed his jaw, his cheek. “What do we do, then?”
He ran a thumb over my cheekbone. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He kissed me. “But you’re the only woman I’ve been able to kiss. I thought I’d never be able to be intimate at all.” He kissed me again. “You chase it away.”
I clung to him.
He pawed at my shirt, urgent hands at my skin. “I want to lose myself in your body.”
I let him.
* * *
I awoke to the sound of a crash. I struggled to move, but I was tangled in Griffin’s limbs. When we’d gone to sleep, it had been comfortable, but now we were both vaguely sweaty, and the air had gone cold—an unpleasant combination.
Griffin was awake too. “Did you hear that?” His voice was urgent and quiet.
“Yes.”
“Downstairs?”
“I think so.”
He pushed aside sweaty sheets and climbed out of bed. Noiselessly, he pulled on a pair of jeans. “Stay here, doll.”
“Okay.”
He padded out the door, quiet and lithe.
I pulled the covers up to my chin and waited.
Minutes passed. I didn’t hear anything else.
I couldn’t call out to Griffin, because then I’d give myself away. And there might be someone downstairs. They’d know where I was then. So I had to keep quiet.
I peered across the room. Outside the window, it was dark, but I could make out water droplets against the glass. It was raining outside.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the bedroom in brightness for half a second.
I jumped, startled.
In the distance, thunder.
The air was thick and muggy, but frigid. I held the covers tighter.
Where was Griffin? Shouldn’t he be back by now? Maybe I should go down and check on him.
But, no. He’d told me to stay put. The last time I hadn’t listened to him, I’d ended up shot.
But where was he? Why hadn’t he come back?
I thought of the Op Wraith agents. The silencers on their guns made their gunshot
s quiet. What if I never heard it at all? They could have shot Griffin as he came down the stairs. They could have already cut his spinal cord.
He could be dead.
I clenched my hands in fists, digging my nails into my palms.
No. Griffin couldn’t be dead.
But he could. Everyone else I cared about was.
Should I go and see?
No. Because if he was dead, they’d be waiting for me. I couldn’t let them get me.
What defense did I have, though? They’d find me up here at some point. I didn’t even have a weapon up here. I was naked in the bed, wrapped in covers, cringing.
Lightning flashed again.
I let out a tiny noise.
Oops. Had they heard me? I tensed, waiting for someone to come up the steps, gun at the ready.
Well, I wasn’t going to let them find me naked. I wanted to die clothed, thank you very much. I pushed back the covers and began searching for clothes on the ground.
It was dark. Griffin hadn’t folded them and put them in a nice pile when he was undressing me. He’d thrown them all over the place. I managed to find my bra and my jeans, but not my underwear or shirt.
It would have to do. I pulled that on and then got down on my knees to keep looking for my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I yelped.
Griffin was standing in the doorway.
“Looking for my clothes.”
He fished my shirt off the doorknob, where it was somehow hanging. He tossed it to me. “There’s a broken window downstairs.”
“There is?” Oh God, they were inside.
“But if you haven’t noticed, it’s also windy and raining outside.” Thunder exploded, as if to prove his point. “It could have been a tree branch. It looks like it was.”
I sighed in relief. “We’re okay.”
“I think so,” he said. “But it’s always good to be cautious. I did a sweep of the house, and I didn’t see anyone. I think I should check outside too.”
I shrugged into my shirt. “I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t need to. It’s probably nothing.”
“What if it is something? What if you get shot out there? I wouldn’t even know.”
He sighed. “Okay. Well, we’re going to get wet.”
* * *
Outside the house, there were a string of nearly identical houses. They sat in a long row, battered by the storm winds. This morning, they’d all been empty. It was a little early in the season for most people to arrive.
Now, there was a car in the driveway of the house next to us.
Griffin was crouched next to the house, rain pelting his face. He squinted. “Was that there before?”
“No,” I said.
He leaned against the siding. “Would they be so obvious?” He shook his head. “They wouldn’t be so obvious.”
I wasn’t sure.
He nodded at my position. “Stay right here. Take the safety off your gun. I’m going to check out the car.”
I could see the car from where I was, so I didn’t protest. I disengaged the safety. The gun felt slippery in my wet hands. The rain out here was very, very cold, and I was drenched through, chilled to the bone.
Griffin crept between the tiny trees that formed the barrier between our house and the neighbor’s and made his way to the car. He tried the door.
It opened.
He closed it, straightening.
The light in the other house came on and the front door opened.
“Hey, you!” yelled a male voice. “What do you think you’re doing to my car?”
Griffin turned. “Sorry, sir. It’s a misunderstanding.”
“Do you have a gun?”
Griffin tucked his gun away. “A gun? No. No, sir. I’m just leaving.” He started to back away.
“I saw a gun! I could swear it.”
“No gun.” Griffin kept backing up.
* * *
“Must have come down early,” I said, handing Griffin duct tape.
He had a towel draped around his shoulders as he held a piece of cardboard over the broken window. “Yeah, just regular neighbors, I guess.”
“We’re safe.”
“We are.” He taped the cardboard down. “You know, this cardboard isn’t going to hold forever. And if we don’t get it fixed, it might be suspicious.”
“Should we pay to get it repaired, then?”
“That seems like a waste of money. I think we’re going to have to think about going someplace else soon.”
“But we just got here,” I said. “And we have all those groceries.”
“Well, I’m not saying tomorrow,” he said. “But this can’t be permanent, you know.”
“Nothing’s permanent, is it? They’re always coming for us.”
He sighed.
I watched as he finished securing the cardboard over the broken window.
“I don’t want to have to run forever,” he said. “That’s no kind of life.” He turned to me. “But it’s better than being taken by them. Being killed.”
He was right.
“I’ll find a way, though,” he said. “For you. I know I could hide you someplace.”
“For both of us,” I said.
He kissed my forehead. “I’m a little harder to hide than you, doll.”
Beth’s words came back to me. He’ll abandon you too. But she was just bitter and angry, wasn’t she? “I want us to be together.”
“I want that too,” he said. “If it’s possible, then we will be.” He shrugged. “If you still want me.”
“Why wouldn’t I want you?” I said.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe at some point, you’ll get sick of me.”
“I doubt it.” I kissed the tip of his nose.
“Maybe you’ll get sick of my issues. You’ll see me for what I am. Half a man. Damaged. Broken.” His shoulders slumped.
Where was this coming from? I didn’t understand why he was saying this again. “I would never think that. Besides, we’re going to work on it, right? You said that you didn’t want them to steal things from you.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” he said. “Like where you want to go next.”
“Where I want to go next is out of these wet clothes and into the shower,” I said.
“Sounds good.”
I winked at him. “You want to come with me?”
He blushed. It had been a while since I’d seen him do that. “I don’t know, doll.”
I took his hand. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” I gave him my best naughty grin.
He eyed me appraisingly. My shirt was clinging to my chest and the outline of my bra was pretty visible through the wet fabric. “Well...”
I tugged on him. “Come on.”
He let me lead him into the bathroom. It was decorated in lighthouses and sea shells. Griffin looked around. “This is like a grandmother bathroom.”
I laughed. “It’s always looked like this. I think my dad bought the place furnished.” I yanked my shirt over my head.
His eyes widened, taking me in. “For some reason, I’m not nearly as interested in the bathroom décor all of the sudden.”
I giggled.
He reached for me.
I danced out of his reach. “No, not until you’re out of those wet clothes.” I took off my bra.
He pulled his shirt off.
I smiled at the sight of his chest. I unbuttoned my pants and wriggled out of them. Then I raised my eyes to Griffin.
His hands settled on his fly. He looked nervous. “It’s only that I’ve never been totally naked with you.”
“Do you want me to turn around?”
He licked his lips. “Maybe?” He laughed a little.
I turned my back, opened the shower curtain, and turned on the water. I put out a hand to test it. Cold.
The water began to get gradually warmer. I adjusted accordingly, until the temperature was just right.
I twisted in his arms. “I need you to warm me up.”
And then we were face to face, both nude. My breath caught in my throat. It felt magnificent.
He kissed me, cupping the curve of my ass, pulling me against him.
I felt him pressed against me, stiff and warm. I looked down, and I saw it for the first time, between our bodies, standing up straight, like an exclamation point.
I wanted to touch it. But I stopped myself. I drew in a long, slow breath, and I looked into his eyes.
He gazed back at me.
“You, um, want to get in the shower?” I said. Steam was starting to pour out behind the curtain.
“Okay.”
I stepped into the tub. I deliberately didn’t watch him get in after me. Instead, I stuck my head under the warm jets of water, letting them run over me.
“Shower hog,” said Griffin, pulling me out of the way and getting in front of me.
“No fair,” I said. “You’re way huger than me. And you block everything.”
“You were blocking everything too, doll,” he threw over his shoulder.
“I was not. I’m smaller than you are.”
He whipped around, laughing. He pinned me up against the wall, water gushing over both our bodies. His mouth found mine. He tasted wet and warm, and his hands moved over me, slippery against my breasts, between my legs.
I moaned, surrendering to him, letting his expert caresses pull me into rapturous pleasure.
His lips moved over me, nibbling and tasting. The hot water made everything seem hazy and languid.
I ran my fingers over the stubble on his head, over his neck and broad shoulders, down his back.
He sighed into my skin, seeking out one of my nipples, suckling me.
I gasped, electric thrills shooting through me. I touched his stomach. It was flat and defined. He was slick with the water from the shower.
His fingers flicked me, teased me, rubbed me. It was bliss. Elation. I let my touch move lower on his body, searching with one hand...
Until I grasped him. Wrapped my fingers around the rigid girth of him.
He let out a strangled noise.
My eyes had been closed, but they flew open.
He was staring back at me. His jaw was clenched tight, and he looked like he was concentrating.
“It’s okay,” I murmured. “It’s only me.”