“The other night, I kissed you because I wanted to know if there was someone, some man who remains in my subconscious even if I can’t remember him. But you were all I thought about then, all I’m thinking about now.”
I lace her fingers through mine. “You love another.”
“If I love Dylan, if I lay with him like this, then why don’t I feel guilty right now? Why do I picture your hands touching me…your lips tasting me?”
“Clare, tell me to leave. Right now.” I am hanging on by a thread.
In a blink of an eye she rises to her knees and straddles me, trapping me beneath her. “No, Griffin.” She tears off her shirt, exposing her bare breasts. I have seen them before, but fuck are they beautiful in the moonlit room! “You’re not leaving,” she says.
I lose it. I forget what is at stake. I forget all the reasons I should say no, and I sit up and kiss her. She moans into my mouth as our tongues tangle and assault each other’s. Her tits press against my chest and I ache to suck on those taut peaks. “So fucking beautiful,” I say, trailing kisses down her neck before latching onto a needy nipple. She bucks, driving her nipple farther into my mouth where I suck and nip her. I roll the other between my fingers as she fists my hair. I can’t get enough of her. I flip her over and rip off her black yoga pants in one quick motion, leaving her only in her white cotton panties. Never would I have thought that plain white undies would look so sexy. She reaches for the string on my pants, but I grip her hand. “They need to stay on for now…or I won’t last.” She doesn’t question me and I stare at her gorgeous body, at how it quakes and begs to be touched. I lean in and kiss her inner thighs until I reach the thin, soaked-through fabric. I kiss her mound through her panties and breathe her in, a scent that makes my already rock-hard shaft turn to unbreakable steel. She whimpers as she restlessly squirms beneath me. Her panties are the next to go and I stare at her. I watch her eyes, read her as I lower my face to her pussy.
Anticipation, arousal, not fear or apprehension, resonate there. I flatten my tongue over her clit and lick her. She arches off the bed, forcing me to grip her hips and position her just the way I need. “Griffin…more.” I love hearing my name on her lips. Because that means she knows who is touching her, who is going to pleasure and fuck her until she screams. I lap her pussy, eating her, devouring her. I slide a finger in and then a second. She is so fucking tight.
Too tight.
There is no way she isn’t a virgin.
• • •
?
“Griffin, what is it? Did I do something wrong?” One minute he is between my legs, sending me quickly to the edge with both his fingers and his tongue and the next he is standing at the foot of the bed with what looks like fear…and regret in his eyes. I crawl over to him and lay my hands on his chest.
He covers my hands with his. “You’ve never done this before. You’re not thinking…”
Anger, frustration, a combo of emotions takes over. There’s no way I am allowing him to finish his thought. “Don’t you dare fucking say it. I want this. And I want you to give it to me…I want you to take it…to take me.”
A groan escapes him, encouraging me to yank his pants down until he steps out of them. He has me on my back again and parting my legs with his knees. I hear the nightstand drawer open to my left. I see him tearing a foil wrapper open and sliding a condom down his shaft. Seconds later, his cock is nuzzling my entrance. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re so tight. Tell me to stop and I will.” His breathing hitches as the crown enters me. “Breathe, Clare.” I do as he says and take a few short breaths. I close my eyes as he stretches me, as he fills me with his length. “Look at me, Clare. I want you to know that it’s me who is claiming you. That I am making you mine.”
He thrusts his hips until he reaches my resistance. His jaw clenches and then he pushes into me until he is balls deep. I cry out and dig my nails into his shoulders. He pulls out and slides back in. I latch onto his ass and force him inside, to drive him deeper. Pain quickly morphs into pleasure. “Griffin, you feel so good.” I wrap my legs around him and cage him in.
“Are you going to come for me, baby?” His voice breaks. He is close and needing a release that I so want to give him.
“Yes!” He pounds into me, riding me hard. My inner walls clench around his cock and I detonate.
He roars my name and explodes inside me. Pleasure radiates through my body as he collapses on top of me and buries his face in my neck. Through breathless pants, one word escapes him, one word over and over again.
Mine.
I hold him until we drift off to sleep, my legs tangled between his. I fall asleep with a smile on my face and my heart full.
But the dreams, they will come…and so will the nightmares.
Chapter Fifteen
Griffin
I stare at the woman asleep in my arms, this perplexing blend of strength and fragility. She can be fierce and full of fire one minute and broken and sobbing into my chest the next. I want to protect her in those moments, in all her moments.
I am falling for her.
I don’t even know her real name. And she knows nothing of my past and why I have struggled all the way up until just a few hours ago to let go and lay my armor down. But I will tell her. I will tell her everything and make her understand why I have been so guarded.
I trail my fingers down her arm as I spoon her from behind. “Dylan?” she whispers.
My hand freezes. “Clare?” She doesn’t answer. I listen to her deep rhythmic breaths for a few seconds before I roll her to her back. Her eyes are still closed, but her brow is furrowed. She is still asleep…and dreaming.
Of another man while she is lying in my arms.
I want to shake her awake, erase him from her mind, remind her that it had been me, I was the one who made her tremble and whimper, not Dylan. I am furious at her, but mostly I am angry with myself. For not listening to the voice in my head, the one that told me that she doesn’t belong to me, that she will leave and take my heart with her.
• • •
?
“Dylan, it’s beautiful. You didn’t have to do this,” I said, staring at the bracelet on my wrist. It was tasteful and delicate and more than I deserved.
As if reading my thoughts, Dylan said, “You deserve that and much more, sweetheart. If I could give you the world, I would.” I looked up to see him standing in front of a large bay window.
“You’ve already given me everything. You’ve given me a life and I will never forget that.” I walked up to him and hugged him from behind. I rested my head on his back.
“But you have forgotten me, sweetheart.”
My body went from relaxed to rigid. His scent changed from that woodsy cologne that I was so fond of to an aroma that made my stomach turn. A spider tattoo suddenly materialized on his arm. “Dylan?” I asked.
The man peered over his shoulder. “But I remember you, darling. And I’m coming for you. You can’t hide forever.”
I jolt awake and clench the sheets to my left. I’m staring at an empty bed and not liking the cold cotton between my fingers.
Empty and cold.
Two words that describe the way the nightmare has made me feel, when Dylan had morphed into one of my faceless abductors. I shiver at the memory. Slipping out of bed, I feel the ache between my legs. Instinctively, I look behind me and see blood stains on Griffin’s sheets. Memories of last night come flooding back and I blush. Griffin claimed me as his and took what I so wanted to give. Despite feeling sore, I want him again. Where is he? I quickly go to the bathroom and clean up, gather the soiled sheets, and am making my way down to the basement to the washer and dryer when I hear someone grunting. I creep down the stairs and find Griffin pounding his fists into a punching bag hanging from the basement rafters. The savage look in his eyes makes me pause and I drop the sheets. He is glistening with sweat, his muscles bulging.
“Did I wake you?” he asks, stilling the bag. His eyes are f
ixed on the bag in his grasp.
“Um…no. Not at all. But do you mind if I use your washer? I kind of got some blood on the sheets…you know, from last night.”
He finally looks at me and then at the sheets, which prompts a scowl. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he says, looking back at the punching bag.
What is going on? Where is the man who held me as I drifted off to sleep?
“No, I’m fine. Just a little sore.” His jaw clenches and he pounds the bag with his fist. “Griffin, is something wrong?”
“Leave the sheets, I’ll take care of them,” he grunts.
My fury mounts. “Fuck the sheets! What’s going on, Griffin?”
“Last night shouldn’t have happened.”
I want to be sick. “What?”
“It was a mistake, Clare. One that I don’t care to repeat.”
I don’t want to cry but those damn tears have a mind of their own. “A mistake? Are you fucking serious…”
“But don’t worry, Dylan will probably forgive you. Maybe even give you a free pass since you’re suffering from a brain injury and all.”
I want to punch him. For being so cold. For not being able to look at me. For giving that punching bag more attention than me. “Fuck you, Griffin.” I turn and leave those bloodstained sheets on the floor. I am halfway up the steps when I stop and say, “Funny, I never saw it coming.” My eyes burn and I shake my head.
“Saw what?” he asks, his voice low, menacing.
“That you would be the one to break me, not the faceless monsters in my nightmares.” I fly up the steps and run to Griffin’s bedroom. I get dressed into the warmest clothes I can find. Hopeful that my fleece lined jeans, sweater, coat, and boots will be enough, I grab Griffin’s keys from the kitchen counter and all the cash from his wallet, a hundred and eighty-two dollars, and flee the cabin. I don’t know if the roads are clear or if his truck can tackle the few inches of snow on the ground. I also have no idea if I know how to drive, but I have to believe I can, that it will come to me like cooking had. I shove the key in the ignition and turn and I innately know how to put the car in reverse, stop, and make a k-turn, but not before I see Griffin running out the front door shouting my name. I drown out his pleas for me to stop and compliment my brain for allowing me to remember how to drive. When I make it to the end of the dirt drive, I turn left onto the main road. I drive for several miles before I pull over and look up the closest train station. According to Google, I am just a few miles away. I toss my phone aside and make my way to the station.
But less than a minute later, my phone vibrates against the leather passenger seat. I glance over and see Griffin’s name flash on the screen. I dismiss the incoming call and focus on the icy but passable road. I pray that the trains are running because I have to get away from here, from him. When I pull into the train station, I am relieved to see cars lining the parking lot and people hustling into the station. Once inside, I stare at the destinations on the board. The city of Philadelphia snags my attention and that homeless girl enters my mind.
“Where to, honey?” the man behind the counter asks.
“Philadelphia.”
“One way?” he asks. I think about Griffin and the night we shared. That it was a mistake. I was a mistake. Everything he uttered, those loving words, the way he kissed me like I belonged to him meant nothing. I was nothing but a fuck…a release.
“I’m not coming back,” I say, handing over the money.
The man nods and gives me a smile. “Well, you better hurry. Your train is about to depart.” I grab my ticket and run straight to the parking lot. I place the keys under the front seat of Griffin’s truck. I then book it to my train and make it just as the doors are about to close on me. Catching my breath, I text Griffin and tell him where he can find his truck and keys. I also don’t leave out the fact that I took money from his wallet but will repay him someday. I may be pissed as hell at him…and hurt, but I am not a thief. I will pay him back. I refuse to have that hanging over my head for the rest of my life.
I push send but less than a minute later he is calling me, and again I dismiss the call. His plan B is a text:
“Please come home. I’m sorry.”
For the past week, that cabin was my home, he was my home, my protector, the man I wanted, not Dylan, a man I know in my heart I care for, but not in the same way I care about Griffin.
But Griffin doesn’t want you.
I power down my phone and lean back in my seat. I want to close my eyes and forget him, to force my brain to no longer remember how good it felt to fall asleep in his arms. It doesn’t help that I can still smell him on me, his scent infused in my skin. For the first time in a week I wish for my memory to be wiped clean, not to be restored. I don’t want to remember how he kissed me, how safe he made me feel, how in sync our bodies moved when he was inside me…when he told me I was his.
Chapter Sixteen
Griffin
The word powerless doesn’t begin to describe how I’m feeling. I have no vehicle, no means to chase her, to beg her to come back and tell her how fucking sorry I am for what I said to her, for what I led her to believe. I will never forget how Clare looked at me, with the evidence of the most incredible night of my life lying at her feet.
My fucking bloody sheets.
I made her bleed, took her innocence and then made her think she meant nothing to me. Which is so far from the truth. But her feeling used has to be the least of my worries. Because Clare is out there, alone, where she could be recognized and taken by her abductors once again. They’re not done with her. She saw their faces.
I go to my bedroom and I’m immediately bombarded by her scent. I breathe her in and something deep inside my chest starts to ache. I can still feel her, in my room, against my skin, every fucking where. I gather her clothes and her toiletries and stuff them into a duffel bag. These are her things. They belong to her. That is the reason I strip my room. At least that is the lie I tell myself, not that I don’t want to be reminded that she is truly gone. I throw the bag across the room and scream bloody murder.
How the fuck could I let her go? Granted, she technically stole my truck and fled while I was jamming those soiled sheets into the washer all the while cursing under my breath, but still. I need to do something.
I grab my phone and call Trent. Thirty minutes later he pulls into my driveway and picks my sorry ass up. I tell him everything, what I said to her, that I am a complete asshole. He doesn’t tell me I’m wrong, which I appreciate. I need to engage in some self-loathing right now while I press the Find Friends app on my phone and track her movements. I am so fucking thankful that I installed the app and she apparently has no idea. “She’s at the train station.”
Trent nods and steps on the gas. Thankfully, he left his toy car at home and came to my aid in a pickup truck that has all the bells and whistles, not that I’m in the mood to really take notice. All I care about is that we don’t get stuck in the snow. About fifty yards away from the station, I see my truck parked in the lot. The sight gives me hope. That is until I hear my cell chime and I read the incoming text.
“Fuck!”
Several seconds later, that tiny dot that signals her location disappears and I almost crush the phone with my bare hands.
“Pull up to the entrance,” I growl.
Before the truck comes to a complete stop, I leap out and run into the station. I start rattling off Clare’s description to a man behind the ticket counter. He looks me up and down and then his eyes narrow. For a split frustrating second, I think he is going to call security. “Hey Fred, mind helping my friend out? He needs to find his girl and apologize for being incredibly stupid.”
Fred relaxes at the sound of Trent’s voice. “You’re lucky I owe this guy a favor,” Fred says, giving me a slight smile.
“Perk of living in a small town. You know everybody,” Trent says, shrugging his shoulders.
Fred clears his throat. “The woman you just described b
ought a one-way ticket to Philadelphia. Her train has already left and another isn’t due out to that neck of the woods until tomorrow morning.”
Philadelphia.
It has to be her. Philadelphia triggered a memory or at least some type of vision. But unlike the others, it didn’t seem to be connected to her abduction. That homeless girl she conjured in her mind at the mention of the City of Brotherly Love means something to her, is linked to her. But how?
“She should arrive at 30th Street Station in a little over two hours. If you’re going after her, I would leave now. The second wave, the bulk of the storm, is expected to hit in a few hours.” I thought that the weatherman screwed up when I crawled out of the bed Clare and I shared last night and noticed that there were only a few inches on the ground, not the foot and a half that was predicted. Shit. She is out there, not only running from kidnappers she may not be able to recognize but from a goddamn Nor’easter.
I barely mutter a thanks to Fred and bolt out of the train station. I hear footsteps pounding the salty pavement behind me.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Trent yells.
I don’t stop. I can’t think. All I want is to get to my truck.
“Grif, will you be okay?”
I halt just feet from my truck and look at him. “If I find her in one piece, I will be. I have to go.” I open the driver’s side door and reach under the seat. The keys are exactly where she said they would be. I don’t want to get my hopes up and think that she isn’t still angry with me. I know she’s pissed and rightfully so. No, she left my truck and keys where I could find them and admitted to taking cash from my wallet because she is just that good of a person.
I don’t deserve her.
But knowing that she is a better person than I will ever be won’t stop me from following her to a city where I lost almost everything.
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