by Sami Lee
The robe parted. The dusky-pink nipples he remembered so well were flushed and tight, pointing right at him. She was slumped against the wall as though she had given herself over to him. He looked his fill of her while she stood there and breathed great lungfuls of air that caused her sweet globes to shimmy and thrust.
He inserted a second finger into her lush wetness, parting them to stretch her. Erica mewled. Her hips rocked. Griff pressed the heel of his hand flush against her mound, supporting her weight with that one hand, controlling her with only that touch.
It barely took a minute. She rode his hand into the fray, her gaze never turning from his until the instant it claimed her. An orgasm achieved in an instant that rippled over his embedded hand like a languorous dance, caressing and sucking at his fingers so eagerly his dick felt tortured by the need to feel that same connection with her body.
When she passed through the core of it, she fell out the other side in a mass of spent limbs and lost breath. Her head fell forward, her forehead lolling against his shoulder as she shuddered with the aftereffects.
Griff knew he should hold her close and stroke her back to life with care and patience. She deserved at least that. But he found himself unable. His own needs ravaged his every proficiency and left him with only primal wants. He released her so she fell against the wall. He whipped off his shirt and immediately went for the fastening of his jeans.
Erica made a sound that could have been relief or joy, but most definitely signaled acceptance. She reached for his hand. “Come to bed.”
Griff shook his head. The bedroom was at least twenty meters away. “No time. Get down on the floor.”
Her eyes widened, shock and desire glimmering in the chocolate discs. Beyond flowery invitations, Griff pushed his jeans down his legs, allowing his taut cock to at last spring free of the stifling clothing. “I’m as serious as a fucking heart attack, Red. It’s the rug or the wall—you pick.”
Making her decision quickly, Erica slid down the wall and crawled to the center of the brown and white rug. The flimsy robe rode up to expose the luscious curve of her ass. Griff closed his eyes on the feral urge that almost overcame him, to take her like that, doggy-style on the floor like he really was an animal. But the urge to mark her with some bestial stamp wasn’t as strong as his need to have her surrounding him, have her arms and legs draw him in while he sank into her. He needed her softness right now as much as he needed to come.
She rolled onto her back and lay there like a sacrificial virgin, and Griff all but fell onto her. He took her breasts into his hands and sunk his teeth into her neck. Then he spread her open and plunged brusquely inside.
Erica emitted a shocked sound. Griff wondered if he’d hurt her, but whatever tenderness existed in him proved elusive. He couldn’t stop himself from angling his hips forward, a repetitive motion that was already getting away from him. “Okay?”
Erica sank her fingernails into his shoulders and angled her hips up to meet his. She sighed his name—not Griff. Into his ear she whispered, “Dale,” and Griff was lost inside her in every way a man could lose himself.
He was almost as embarrassingly quick as she had been. He swore and pounded into her, faster and faster, until in a burst of blinding light and rushing heat he felt his climax approaching. Somehow he found the presence of mind to pull out of her, spilling his seed onto her bare stomach, on the rug. He came in jets, hoarsely crying her name like a man who wanted to be saved.
“Yes… Oh yes please.”
She wriggled on the floor, frantically palming her breasts. He hadn’t even waited until she’d come again before losing it. Self-flagellation made Griff’s actions rough and impatient. He grasped Erica’s knees and yanked them apart, exposing her plump, wet sex. Then he plunged into her with his tongue, before moving up to suck hard on her clit. He only had to do it once more, and she came, filling his mouth with her tangy juice, still whimpering his name like a mantra.
Dale, Dale, Dale.
Griff moved up her body and buried his face in the curve of her neck. He detected the faint, well-remembered scent of lavender on her skin, and it made everything he’d just done rush to confront him. The lack of respect he’d shown Erica in being so rough. The dog act he’d done to Corey. While Corey had been doing the right thing, trying to romance and seduce Erica, Griff had stormed into her house screaming about fire alarms and taking her on the floor like a man driven mad by lust.
No matter what Corey said, the man still thought of Erica as his. And Griff had just fucked her into oblivion.
Long moments passed, filled only by their mingled breaths, the ticking of an old grandfather clock in the hall and Griff’s shame. The last kept his face hidden in her neck, a cowardly attempt to delay the moment when he’d have to face her and explain himself.
In the end, Erica saved him the trouble. “It’s not your fault those people died. I know you would have saved them if you could have.”
Griff was further mortified to feel his eyes sting. God grant me the strength not to cry in front of her. He couldn’t muster a response, so greatly was he humbled by her capacity for perception, the gift of her acceptance. She must have heard the news and known why he was here.
She must also realize he’d used her to make himself feel better. It was a cruel irony that he ended up feeling much worse.
His words rasped with regret. “Erica, I’m so bloody sorry.”
She didn’t seem to hear his apology. “You’re right about Corey. I’ve been giving him hope when I have none to offer. I’ll end it.”
“No.” Griff extracted himself from her tempting softness. He rolled to his side and stared down at her. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’ll kill him.”
Her faint smile was disbelieving. “No, it’s the best thing. There can never be anything between me and Corey.”
Griff hoped to God she wasn’t writing Corey off because of what had just happened. He had enough guilt to carry. Even now having her so close, smelling so sweet and looking achingly fragile in her nudity, made his groin stir once more.
Turning away from the enticement she represented, Griff stood and pulled his jeans up. “I know what I said, but I was wrong. Don’t break it off with Corey. Give him a chance. As for this…” Griff swallowed past the lump in his throat, the evidence of his disgrace. “Don’t let it affect your decision. I was wrong to come here.”
She stood as well, smoothing down her hair and self-consciously tightening the sash on her robe. A moment of sluggish silence passed before Erica asked quietly, “Why did you?”
Griff wasn’t sure where to start. He hated the decimation he sometimes encountered in the course of his work. When there were kids involved, it exacerbated the horror, made frustration and anger burn a path up his esophagus. There were counselors the service provided. There were also his colleagues, his friends, people who understood only too well how he felt and could help him make sense of it.
But he hadn’t gone to any of those people. Instead he’d come here. Griff wasn’t sure if Erica would understand that there were times when talking to mates or shrinks wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference, when all the quiet time and reflection, all the alcohol in the world wouldn’t help. At those moments what a man needed above all else was the welcoming, forgiving softness of a caring woman to sooth the fire in his soul.
“I felt like shit.” As an explanation it was pitifully economical. “I told myself I was coming here to tell you off about leading Corey on because I was in a foul-enough mood to do it, but it wasn’t that. That fire last night made me think about you, and how easy it would be for this place to go up. Occupational hazard,” he conceded wryly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I haven’t been able to since that night. It was so much worse after Corey told me…”
When he trailed off she filled in. “What he and I talked about?”
The mere mention of it in those dulcet tones, her voice honeyed by her recent orgasm, made Griff’s knees weak and his co
ck hard. “Yeah.”
Although he knew further contact was inadvisable, Griff reached a hand out to her. Inexorably, his touch wandered, sneaking along the side of her neck until she tilted her head, acquiescing to the slow stroking motion of his hand. Griff skimmed his fingers along her collarbone, nudging at that damn lightweight robe. He was going to take her again if he didn’t get control of himself.
Erica seemed equally lost in the web of temptation that bound them. As though she couldn’t help herself, she took a small step forward, resting her forehead on Griff’s shoulder. If she’d stripped off her robe and climbed onto him, Griff couldn’t have wanted her more. And he felt bad for wanting her, because the vulnerability inherent in her gesture signified a need to be held, not fucked.
He wanted to do both, but alighting on the former he wound his arms around her and settled her body close to his chest. She sighed and burrowed deeper, her frame shuddering. After a moment Griff felt warm wetness trailing over his bare skin. He said nothing about the silent tears she shed. He simply held her until they ran dry.
He moved his hand gently over her hair, brushed his lips across her temple. Against him she quaked, her body melting to meet his. A small sound of surprise escaped her, as though she hadn’t had an honest-to-God hug in so long she’d forgotten how it felt. The thought softened Griff’s heart, and he found his lips trailing downward, tracing over her cheek until Erica tilted, meeting him halfway.
The press of her mouth was so luxurious that Griff groaned, helpless to stem the rising tide of desire. He’d tried to offer comfort, nothing more. But Lord help him, her kiss was so giving it encouraged a man in need to take, and Griff found himself delving into her velvet-wet mouth and tasting the particular mix of sweetness and secret anguish he discovered there.
Erica kissed him back with a helplessness he recognized, her lush tits molding to his chest, burning his skin. He cupped her face in one hand, angling her mouth to allow a deeper exploration. With the other hand, he grasped her hip and drew her to him.
She couldn’t miss the hot swell of his erection. When it pressed into her stomach she gasped, wrenching her mouth away so she could look at him. In her dark brown eyes, Griff saw sharp astonishment and smoldering lust. But the way her cheeks reddened was all about shame and remorse. It reactivated Griff’s sense of culpability, which had conveniently fled the instant he’d succumbed to the enticement of just one more kiss from Erica Shannon.
Muttering a curse, Griff set her away from him. The loss of her body heat was as chilling as an icy wind. Griff hastily retrieved his T-shirt from where it still lay crumpled on the floor and dragged it on.
What a fucking mess. He wanted Erica Shannon like he couldn’t remember wanting another woman. Was it this intoxicating in those first months with Anna? Right now, Griff could hardly remember what Anna Hendricks, the woman he’d thought one of the loves of his life, looked like. He couldn’t recall her scent or the sound of her voice. His memories had been obliterated by the waft of lavender shower gel and needy little moans he was unable to strip from his mind. His lust for Erica had grown into an irrepressible creature, unruly and resistant to any attempts he made to tame it.
Erica gathered her robe tighter around her, avoiding his gaze. “You’d better go.”
“Yeah.” It was all he managed to say before he stalked out the door. He had to find a way to talk to Corey, had to confess all and hope the other man had been serious about wanting to share Erica.
Because despite all his misgivings, a three-way affair loomed before Griff as the only solution to this growing problem. If he could keep his heart out of it, he wouldn’t be risking the same pain he’d endured when it had ended with Anna and Jack. He was older now, and he had to believe past experience had made him smarter. If he could stay friends with both of them, if the two of them ended up together, he could wish them well and walk away without regret.
That was all he had to do; keep his heart out of it.
Erica moved through the morning in a daze. Her appointment was at two in the afternoon, when the doctor assured her the lab results would be available. She went to work because it beat the alternative—waiting all day on tenterhooks, forced to mull over what she’d done with Griff that morning.
Guilt was her unwelcome companion throughout the day. The emotion aggravated her. Why did she feel guilty about being with Griff when Corey had repeatedly reiterated his desire to share her with the man? Neither had she made Corey any promises or led him to believe there was a future for the two of them. She could have sex with anyone she pleased.
But that was precisely the problem. She wouldn’t describe what she’d done with Griff as mere sex. Making love didn’t seem the correct term either, but there was certainly a wealth of emotion, of connection in what had passed between them, as much as there had been in her long, sultry conversations with Corey. The fact that she’d allowed herself to cry in front of him terrified her. She hadn’t felt safe enough to cry in front of any man in years, not since she was a little girl. Her father hadn’t handled her tears well, and Erica had learned not to let her anguish show. Ironically, it was that very feeling of safety she’d experienced in Griff’s arms that seemed so dangerous.
Despite her efforts to remain uninvolved, Erica felt a strong bond had developed between her and Griff and Corey, and she had no idea how she was going to break it.
She was no closer to an answer at two o’clock when she walked on wobbly legs into her doctor’s office and gave her name at reception.
“Dr. Singh is running a little behind schedule,” the receptionist explained apologetically. “If you’ll take a seat, someone will call you when she’s free.”
Great. Erica smiled through her tension, telling herself it wasn’t the woman’s fault the doctor was behind. The last thing she needed was more time to brood, but the outdated magazines in the waiting area didn’t have a hope of catching her interest.
From the way Griff had stormed out of her house that morning, she didn’t think he intended to return. But she had to make it clear to Corey, once and for all, that a relationship between them was impossible. Thus far he’d chosen not to believe her protestations, but Erica was willing to concede her behavior hadn’t exactly backed up her words. Telling a man she wasn’t interested and then following up with phone sex was hardly an unambiguous message. She had to call him and lay her cards on the table, exactly as Griff had told her to. She had to cut him off completely.
There was little point in waiting until after her appointment. No matter the outcome of her lab tests, it didn’t change her ultimate prognosis or the fact that she had to face her future alone. Pressing the numbers she’d unintentionally memorized into her mobile phone, Erica stepped outside and waited for Corey to pick up.
Erica closed her eyes on the shudder of desire that rippled through her at the now intimately familiar sound of his voice. “Corey, it’s me, Erica.”
“Hey, baby.” The wealth of pleasure in his tone made remorse at what she was about to do grip her. “You called.”
“Yes, I…” Erica swallowed the lump of dread in her throat and tried again. “I had to talk to you.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“About us, Corey. The phone calls—they have to stop.”
“Uh-huh. You rang to tell me this?”
Erica wasn’t in the mood for his gentle teasing. “I won’t do it again, and you can’t call me anymore either.”
“Erica, we’ve been through this.”
“No, we haven’t, not really. I realize I haven’t been clear enough with you. I’ve sent you mixed signals and that isn’t fair.”
“There’s nothing unclear about the way we affect each other,” Corey countered calmly. “You want me as much as I want you. Why can’t you admit it?”
“Because what I want doesn’t matter. My life is more complicated than you realize, and it’s not something I’m able to talk to you about right now. You have to trust me on this—getting in d
eeper with you is out of the question. You have to stop phoning my house. If you do it again…” Erica pushed against the bubble of pain that had formed behind her sternum, “…I won’t pick up. I won’t call back.”
“Right.” A tense note had found its way into Corey’s voice. “So what’s to stop me dropping by? How long do you think you can hold out if I set up camp on your doorstep? Because I’m telling you, Erica, I’m willing go that far.”
“For God’s sake, Corey,” she huffed. She knew what it was going to take to stop him, and Erica barely hesitated before she employed the biggest weapon in her arsenal. “I slept with someone else.”
The ringing silence on the other end of the line told Erica all she needed to know about how accurate her aim had been. She felt like the worst person in the world. She’d intentionally hurt the nicest man she’d ever met because she didn’t want to admit the truth and have him reject her for that instead, the way Doug had. She couldn’t have handled it.
She shouldn’t have been surprised by Corey’s question, but she was. It took her breath away. “Was it Griff?”
“Yes,” she admitted in a threadbare voice.
“So I was right.” His words were more sad than angry. “You like him better, you always have. You didn’t want to share, you wanted him to yourself.”
Erica remained silent, unable to adequately explain the effect they’d both had on her, how impossible it was to apportion her feelings in percentages like slices of a pie chart. After a moment Corey went on. “When did this happen? How the hell did it happen?”
“This morning. He came over.”
“He went to see you?”
Realizing too late the trouble she’d inadvertently caused between the two men, Erica implored, “Please don’t blame him, Corey. It was me. I wanted it. I needed him.”
“You needed him, but not me. I get it. I’ve made an idiot of myself. I thought you wanted the both of us, but those fantasies were all about Griff, weren’t they?”