Anticipation flushed through Clare. “We haven’t?” Oh, wow. That was really exciting news, because that had just been incredible.
“Hell, no.” Then he rolled off her, stood up and began to untie the drawstring on his sweats.
Fascinated, Clare propped herself up on her elbow to watch. Somehow, coming apart in Griffin’s arms had taken away her nervousness. Now her body was jazzed, and she was totally engaged in the moment.
Griffin cocked an eyebrow at her as he tugged his sweats over his hips and let them drop.
“Silk boxers?” What would the men of Birch Crossing think of silk boxers? Then she sobered at the reminder that Griffin was not of Birch Crossing, and he never would be.
“I like how they feel against my skin.” He contemplated her for a moment, as if he were debating her reaction, and then he took the boxers off as well.
Clare’s breath caught at the sight of his erection, at the raw male standing before her. The outsider. The business man. The father. The man who made her laugh. The man who made her feel alive for the first time in years. He was all of the above, a magnificent combination of so many different things. She wanted him, with all his complexities.
This was her night.
This was their night.
She accepted the consequences.
So, she lifted her hand and held it out to him, in invitation.
His face was shadowed and serious. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
A smile creased his cheeks, and she caught sight of the dimple before he set his hand in hers and joined her on the bed.
And this time, she had no more doubts.
Chapter Seventeen
Intimacy with a woman had never been like this.
Never in his whole damn life.
As Griffin slid into bed beside Clare, her huge blue eyes riveted to his face, her hair tousled on the pillow, Griffin knew that this moment was a treasure that would never come again.
Moments like this came once in a lifetime.
Slowly, almost afraid to see whether the fantasy was real, Griffin leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Her arms went around his neck, and she kissed him back. Her kiss was so tentative, exploratory, unsure, but it was laced with a sensuality that made the part of him respond that had lain dormant for years.
He ran his hand over her hip as he kissed her, marveling at the feel of her skin. It was so soft, so smooth. He could feel every curve of her body, the muscles beneath, as if she were a beautiful sculpture of angel wings and spring sunshine.
Women had just been women to him.
But this was different. This was Clare.
Fire shifted inside him, and he was hit with a need for more. To connect with her. He kissed her more deeply, seducing her with his mouth as he hooked his fingers over those decadently innocent shorts and pulled them down her hips, over her thighs, past her calves—
Clare moved her feet, kicking the shorts off, and he kissed her as he touched her intimately again. And again, her body convulsed, but he moved his hand before she could go all the way. “This time,” he commanded between kisses, “you must wait for me, sweetheart.”
Chuckling at her groan of impatience, Griffin kissed Clare again, basking in the taste of her lips, in the growing confidence in her kisses. She ran her fingers through his hair, a sensual caress that felt so freaking incredible. Her hands slid over his shoulders and down his arms, across his hip, up his back, her touch so damned erotic he wanted to pin her to the bed and make her his right then.
It wasn’t simply her touch that was so incredible. It was the way she was moving and touching him, the restless motion of her hips beneath him, the depth of her kisses as she accepted his. She wanted him. She wasn’t simply tolerating his advances. She absolutely and unabashedly desired him, craved him, wanted him, and welcomed him, and that was unbelievable. Her need for him reached deep inside him to a place that had been shut down for so long, unleashing a burning passion that ripped through him.
Suddenly, nothing mattered but Clare. Her kisses, her silky skin, the way her body felt beneath his.
Raw possession surged over him, and he kissed harder, deeper, taking over the kiss, needing to claim her, to make her his. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her breasts, her stomach. Every inch of her skin needed his mark. He was consumed with his need for her, to strip away all the walls between them until there was nothing left but the burning, insatiable fire raging within him.
He sank between her thighs, moving against her, his body trembling with the need to take her, to lose himself in her body and her soul. He was desperate for more, unable to kiss her deeply enough to take away the gaping emptiness inside him that needed her so badly. Still kissing her, still moving against her, Griffin touched her and was nearly undone when he found how ready she was for him. She wanted him as much as he craved her? How was that possible? He couldn’t even begin to understand how a woman as incredible as Clare, with a heart so warm and amazing could want him so badly.
Raw desire knifed through him, so intense it was almost painful. He couldn’t wait. Couldn’t hold off. He needed to be inside her, to lock her down as his, to lose himself in her—
“Astrid gave me condoms,” she whispered, her breath warm against the side of his neck. “They’re by the bed.”
She was ready? Jesus. She was ready for him. He had some condoms in his room, but it hadn’t been on his mind when he’d walked in here tonight. “Remind me to thank her.” He found the objects in question, made quick work of the packaging and then he settled himself between Clare’s hips.
He was startled to discover his heart was pounding in his chest, his breathing tight, his lungs constricted with the intensity of the moment. Then he saw Clare’s wary expression, and all his frenzy vanished, replaced with a protective instinct to make sure it was right for her, to treasure the gift she was offering him.
Her eyes were wide, nearly luminescent as she watched him. Her hands were on his shoulders, almost bracing herself. Desire flushed her cheeks, but nervousness was evident in the way she watched him.
“Clare,” he whispered. “I treasure you.” Forcing himself not to drive deep and claim her, Griffin kissed her, lightly, gently, seductively.
Her lips parted beneath his, and he felt the moment she forgot to be nervous, when she became lost in the sensation of skin and touching and kissing and passion. The fire built inside him, licking away at his self-control and at his sanity, until all he could absorb was the woman beneath him. Her light, floral scent, the taste of her mouth, the saltiness of her skin, the softness of her hair, the power and passion in her curvy body as she moved beneath him, responding to his kiss, allowing herself to fall under the spell that was trying so hard to consume him.
“I need to be inside you.” He moved his hips, testing, and Clare made a noise of desire that arched deep into his core, severing the remaining threads of his restraint.
“Yes,” she whispered. She leaned her head back, and he showered kisses on her throat as he moved his hips faster now, rubbing against her, feeling her readiness for him.
Clare adjusted her legs so he could sink deeper against her. She was twisting beneath him, driven by her own desires and needs, and feeling the same intensity that was driving him. He’d never needed intimacy like this before. It had always been about sex, about physical fulfillment, but he felt like if he didn’t make love to her, a part of him would forever be incomplete.
He lifted his head from her neck to look at her, and Clare immediately opened her eyes, as if she’d sensed his need to connect.
Her eyes were flooded with desire, with passion, and her face was relaxed. No fear. No hesitation. Then she smiled, and he saw the trust in her beautiful face.
Pure, untainted, trust…in him.
“Griffin,” she whispered, “make love to me.”
“Clare.” The sound of his name on her lips shredded the last threads of his control. Need overwhelmed him, and he shifted, plunging deep into
her body.
The intensity of the connection rushed through him, and he felt like his entire world had just been made right as he felt her body accept him, as he buried himself inside the woman who had made his soul come alive.
Clare gasped and gripped his shoulders, but she didn’t take her gaze from his face, and he couldn’t have ripped his gaze off hers if his life depended on it. He felt like he was falling into those eyes, into the passion and humanity brimming in them.
He wanted to move, to take her, to connect them in a way only he could, but he knew she wasn’t ready. He braced himself, forcing himself to still so she could adjust to him. He kissed her once, then again, and again, the kisses building a fire as quickly as before.
And then Clare wiggled her hips, and he nearly lost it right then. He gritted his jaw, holding still as she began to move beneath him, testing, experimenting, exploring.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Just like that.” He began to move with her, against her, coaxing her, leading her, responding to her, until he couldn’t separate himself from her anymore.
He was kissing her with a fierceness and need he couldn’t sate, his body thrusting, withdrawing, and again, moving with her, keeping them connected as she writhed beneath him. It was no longer about him, his need for her, and his desire to protect her. He couldn’t separate them anymore, couldn’t distinguish between her kisses and his, her desire and his need. All he knew was that she was his world, that nothing mattered, that the only moment that ever existed for him was right then, right there, in Clare’s arms.
“God, Griffin—” she gasped, and then her body went rigid as the orgasm consumed her.
He caught her shout of pleasure with a kiss, holding her small frame as she came apart in his arms, again and again, an endless wave of pleasure that brought him to the edge and—
His orgasm hit him with violent force, ripping a gasp out of him as it surged through him. He held onto Clare, anchoring her against him as the orgasms tore them both apart, bringing them to places he had never been, and he knew he’d never get to again.
When it finally released them and Griffin collapsed on top of her, he knew that he had just been given a gift he would never, ever be worthy of.
But as Clare whispered his name and snuggled into the curve of his body, he knew that he would never, ever give it back.
* * *
Falling asleep in Griffin’s arms had been a mistake.
When Clare awoke to the feel of his body against hers, his face nuzzled against her neck, the first rays of dawn streaming over his bare back, the utter contentment that filled her was absolutely terrifying.
Clare stared up at the ceiling as she listened to him breathe. She could feel his chest expand with each breath, and his leg was thrown over hers, the heavy weight trapping her to the bed. One arm was wrapped around her upper body, tucking her against him as if he were cradling his truest love.
His whiskers were digging into her shoulder, and she was so warm and cozy against him. She never wanted to move, ever.
Her body was sore and felt thoroughly loved, and she smiled at the memory of their lovemaking. Nothing like getting back into the game in a hurry. How many orgasms had she had? It turned out, he could touch her pretty much any way he wanted, and she went over the edge.
It hadn’t been like that with Ed, that was for sure.
Griffin had attributed it to the fact he was, apparently, indeed the world’s greatest lover.
She had no idea what it was, or why she’d responded like that, but it had turned the night into something out of a dream. All it took was looking at his handsome face, at the passion in those dark brown eyes, and hearing the tone of his voice, and she would tumble off that cliff again.
But this morning...She wrapped her hands around his upper arm where it was across her breasts. This morning, this magnificent man was hers. This morning, for the first time in fifteen years, she wasn’t waking up alone.
And it felt so incredible, so amazing, so right, that she knew she was in trouble.
Emma had been so right.
Clare wasn’t an empty-sex kind of girl.
She loved her bed. She loved her independence. But after waking up with Griffin and having it feel so incredible to have him holding her, she was absolutely terrified of what it would be like when he left and she had to wake up alone again.
She rubbed her hand along his arm, feeling the softness of the hair. How could it feel so beautiful to have Griffin in her bed? Shouldn’t she be trying to push him out? Shouldn’t she feel a need to reclaim her space? Shouldn’t she feel highly satisfied and ready to declare herself available for Mr. Right, who was supposed to follow on the heels of the rebound man?
Because that’s what Griffin was, right? Sure, yeah, the rebound was a decade and a half later, but he was still the first guy she’d been with since Ed.
But she didn’t feel like he was a rebound man.
She didn’t feel ready to race into the sunset with another man now that Griffin had released her inner vixen.
She just felt ready to lie here, with Griffin, and never leave this spot. She’d had no idea that it would feel this amazing and right to be with him. To feel his body against hers, to have his breath mingle with hers, to have his scent tangled in her sheets.
Sighing, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek against his head. For this moment, for this breath of time, he was hers and she would worry about the rest later, because it was, quite clearly, already too late to protect herself from falling under his spell—
“Mom?” Katie’s footsteps padded down the hall.
Oh, no! “Just a second,” she called back, trying unsuccessfully to get out from under Griffin. “Griffin! Let me up!” Clare shoved at him, but he didn’t move. She tugged at his hair. “Griffin,” she whispered.
He grunted and opened his eyes. A sleepy smile warmed his face. “Good morning, my darling.”
Oh, God, how she wanted to melt into that smile. “Katie’s outside the door.”
Griffin began to nibble on her neck. “I locked it.”
The doorknob rattled, and Clare tried to wiggle out from under him, but he hauled her back down.
“Mom!” Katie knocked on the door. “I want to talk to you.”
Griffin rolled on top of Clare and pinned her back onto the bed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Tell her to give you ten minutes.” He gave a low growl and kissed her.
Oh, come on! Not fair. Clare forced herself to stop kissing him and pushed at his shoulder. “I’m coming, Katie,” she called out. “Hang on a sec.”
The doorknob rattled again. “Why is the door locked?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t do it on purpose.” Clare banged her fist on Griffin’s back, and he chuckled and finally rolled off her. “Get in the bathroom,” she whispered.
“You have your own bathroom? How’d I get the bad room that has to use the one in the hall?” Still grinning and completely erect, he strode into the bathroom and flipped the door shut behind him.
“Mom?”
Clare grabbed her shorts from the floor and pulled on her camisole. She took a quick look in the mirror as she hurried to the door, and was startled by what she looked like. Her hair was a tousled mess, her makeup was long gone, but her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glowing.
She looked beautiful.
Stunned, she stared at herself. Never, or at least since she could remember, had she ever looked in the mirror and considered herself beautiful. She always noticed the bags under her eyes, the wrinkles by her mouth, or the new freckle on her nose. But now...
“Mom!”
“Coming!” Clare turned away and unlocked the door. Her daughter was standing in the hall, already dressed for school with a backpack over her shoulder. Her hair was curled around her shoulders, and she was wearing mascara. “Did you use a curling iron this morning?”
“Yes, you like it?” Katie fluffed her brown hair.
“Well, yes, of
course. What time did you get up?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Katie flounced into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. She was wearing her new In Your Face jeans that hugged her bottom just a trifle more snugly than Clare would have preferred, but her shirt was at least modest today. “So, I was talking to Griffin yesterday, and it got me thinking.”
Clare saw Griffin’s underwear on the sheets behind Katie, and nearly passed out. “What did you want to talk about?” She moved into the hallway. “Let’s go talk in the kitchen while I make coffee.”
But Katie leaned back on the bed and braced her weight on her hands, inches from Griffin’s underwear. “So, Griffin said that he went to the MIT program, and it was cool.”
“The MIT program?” This was about school? What about the boy trauma? Clare realized that she’d missed the crisis entirely. Katie had shared it with Griffin and moved on. Her daughter’s first boy-crisis and she’d missed it. “Are you sure that’s all that’s on your mind? Anything happen yesterday that you wanted to talk about?”
“No.” Katie crossed her legs, taking up permanent residence on the bed. “See, here’s the thing. Griffin thought MIT was cool, so I guess that it wouldn’t be that bad. I mean, if he liked it, right?”
There was a thud from the bathroom, and Katie turned. “What was that?”
“Water pipe.” Clare sat down beside Katie, and patted her daughter’s knee as she casually reached behind her and shoved the underwear under the covers. “So, you want to go to MIT now? That’s great. You’ll love it—”
“No.” Katie turned her attention back to her. “See, even when I heard Griffin thought it was cool, and I still didn’t want to go, I knew that it wasn’t just MIT that was the problem.”
“Um...what?” Where were the rest of Griffin’s clothes? He’d come in fully dressed.... Clare saw that his shoes were on the floor next to her nightstand. His sweats were in a pile on the floor beside the shoes. Oh, God. No, no, that was okay. She owned sweatpants, too, right? She could say they were hers.
“I want to stay here and be in the Shakespeare festival,” Katie announced. “Like Dad was.”
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