“I’m sorry,” he offered abruptly and then, because he couldn’t think of another thing to say, he shut his mouth.
“Yes.” She sighed, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin before placing it next to her plate. “Shall we move to the living room for dessert?”
The room seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief. Dennis hopped out of his seat like his ass was on fire, offering his arm to Lillian. Griffin repressed the hostile snicker bubbling in his chest at the man’s misplaced chivalry. There wasn’t a person in the room who required protection less than his father’s widow. After all, she’d just disarmed him with a shiver of her little finger.
Chapter 12
Most of the guests had followed Lillian and Dennis out of the room, but Morgan remained by Griffin’s side, her tightly folded hands resting on the table edge in front of her. Her husband stood near the entryway having a quiet but, apparently, absorbing exchange with Tyler Harris.
With a resigned sigh, Griffin got to his feet.
“May I?” He offered his arm to Morgan, fully expecting her to refuse.
Instead of answering him, she turned toward her husband. Griffin was treated to a demonstration of the telepathic relationship the couple shared. In mid-sentence, Dylan stopped what he was saying to meet his wife’s gaze. After an inquiring smile, widening of the eyes, and slight nod, he returned his attention to his companion, grasping him by the arm with one hand and clapping him on the back with the other. The two men exited, but just before they disappeared into the foyer, Drumlin looked back over his shoulder, a poor bastard expression on his face. By the time Griffin processed what he’d witnessed, he saw Morgan had pivoted in her seat.
“Thank you,” she accepted sweetly.
Griffin slid her chair back as she stood and then took her hand and curved it over his forearm. They strolled down the length of the table.
“Tell me…” He dipped his head to better hear her softly spoken words. “Do you make a habit of insulting people who are trying to help you?”
She had to take several mincing steps backward when he came to an abrupt halt.
He covered the cool skin of the hand she rested lightly on his arm with his own, preventing her from pulling away from him, and peered down at her. From her vantage point, his six-foot-five frame intimidated most people. Morgan, evidently, was not most people. She merely tilted her head back, her unassuming pretense devolving into a cross between disgust and disappointment.
“My intention wasn’t to insult her.”
“Really? What was your intention?”
“I just wanted to understand a little more about the woman married to my father for the last eleven years. I’m sorry if it came off as impolite.”
“Impolite?” She averted her gaze and shook her head. When she turned back to him, her amber glare glistened with resolve. “You humiliated her.”
His spine stiffened. “Humiliated her? Please. Lillian’s a big girl. I think you’re overstating things.”
“Am I?” Her eyes widened with mock innocence. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t your line of questioning intended to not-so-subtly imply Lillian was an opportunist preying on the egos of aging, wealthy men? I’ll be so embarrassed if I misunderstood.” Her glib tone became sharp and frosty. “And you did it in her home, at a dinner she arranged for your benefit, in front of her colleagues and friends. No, I’m not overstating,” she said flatly. “Not even a little bit.”
The piercing stare she leveled at him reminded him of his mother. Helena had used a similar method when waiting for her stubborn son to take responsibility for his actions. Something she had had to do far more often than he liked to recall or admit.
He wanted to contradict her characterization, but couldn’t. He’d been so determined to ferret out some information, he’d publically skewered Lillian’s reputation without a thought for her feelings.
“Shit.”
His arm fell to his side when Morgan took her hand away to put her fists on her hips, looking every inch a vindicated schoolmarm.
“Exactly.”
Griffin paced anxiously beside her, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.
“Something else to apologize to her for,” he muttered under his breath.
“Goodness! What else have you done?”
He stopped in front of her, considering her with bewilderment.
“‘Goodness?’ Jesus, are you for real?” He spun around, leaning his weight on the edge of the table and crossing his arms over his chest. “How, exactly, does an innocent lamb like you become friends with a prowling lioness like Lillian?”
She glanced at the ceiling as if looking for strength. “I think you just managed to insult both of us at once.”
Dropping his head in frustration, he visored his hand over his forehead. He pressed his temples with thumb and forefinger against the dull throbbing in his skull. It took several deep breaths before he could bring himself to lower his arm and meet Morgan’s steady regard.
“I think we should join the others before I make any more of an ass of myself than I already have.”
Her laugh surprised him. The quarrel in her tawny eyes dispersed in a rush, revealing the warmth simmering below. The passionate devotion her husband had displayed on the occasions Griffin had seen the two together became understandable. He imagined most men would go to great lengths to bask, even for a moment, in the kind of unconditional acceptance apparent in her untroubled gaze. Without a doubt, Dylan Drumlin was a very lucky man.
“Is it sex?” she asked with a whimsical smile, hurling their conversation into the surreal.
“What the hell kind of question is that?”
“Because if it is…” she continued, ignoring his indignation. “You should understand, Lillian doesn’t think about sex like most people do.”
“And what, exactly, would Lillian’s…What did she call you? Oh, yeah. What would her sorella know about it?”
“She views sex as a necessary part of healthy human hygiene, like exercising or regular dental care.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” It was his turn to seek fortitude in the room’s white plaster ceiling. “I am not discussing this with you.”
“This isn’t a discussion. I simply thought, in light of your behavior this evening, you should understand what you might think is a relationship is…well…”
“A visit to the dentist,” he drawled sarcastically.
“Yes.” She lifted her eyebrows matter-of-factly.
“And you know this about Lillian, how?”
He watched with fascination as Mrs. Drumlin went an attractive shade of crimson.
“My husband…well…Dylan…He…before we were married…before we even got involved, really…well, he and Lillian…”
Griffin put a hand out to ward off the meaning sinking into his head despite her nearly incoherent stammering.
“Stop. Fucking. Talking.”
Of course Drumlin had been one of Lillian’s “darlings.” Good-looking, intelligent, commanding in his way, he fit the model perfectly. It had been one thing to think of her lovers in the abstract, but to think of a particular man touching her, kissing her, pleasuring her. Griffin gripped the edge of the table, waiting for the haze of jealousy to clear from his vision.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know if it will make you feel any better, but Lillian did everything with your father’s understanding and consent.”
He looked up at her, realizing she thought his reaction had to do with Lillian cheating on his father. Relieved she hadn’t guessed the true nature of his misery, he pinned her with an impatient stare.
“And how the fuck do you know that?”
She flinched at his language but returned his unforgiving gaze unabashedly. “Dylan explained it to me. It’s extremely important to Lillian to be honest with the people in her life.”
“That hasn’t been my experience.”
Her brows drew together quizzically. “What do you mean?”<
br />
“Let’s just say she’s lied to me on several occasions.”
Griffin shifted uncomfortably under the increased intensity of Morgan’s stare. She appeared to be processing his words. Her mouth formed a subtle “O” and her absorbed expression relaxed into understanding.
Nodding slowly, she said, “I see.”
“What?”
“You have feelings for her.” It was not a question.
The truth of her words sent a shuddering shock through him. He pushed away from the table and held his bent arm out to her.
“It’s time we joined the others.”
She considered him quietly before curving her arm around the crook of his elbow. When he took a step forward, she didn’t move with him, instead tugging him to a halt. He looked at her cautiously.
“I’m sorry.”
The pity in her voice made him grit his teeth. It took a good deal of effort not to shake her off and stalk from the room. How she’d hit on the thing he hadn’t actually considered himself was a concern he didn’t have the energy for at the moment. Something in his face or the tone of his voice must have led to her suspicion. He couldn’t think about the implications if it was any more than that.
Without responding he started, once again, for the doorway. Thankfully, she moved beside him without further comment. Griffin guided her with determined steps, grateful to deliver her into the loving arms of her husband. After a few words of polite and insubstantial conversation, he made his escape from Morgan Drumlin and her disturbing clairvoyance.
Chapter 13
Lillian tipped her head back, draining her glass. She placed it carefully on the tabletop beside her and leaned back on her elbows. She should stop. She’d had far too much to drink this evening. But her thoughts refused to calm, refused to be distracted from the single subject she least wanted to consider—Griffin.
The agreements she had with her husbands were sacred and meant to be kept private. Having the dots connected, in front of people she had come to respect, pained her. How she had allowed it to happen was inexplicable, but that it had been done deliberately was inexcusable.
She sat up, one hand going for the wine bottle at her side, the other collecting her glass. The chime of the two colliding as she poured resonated in the quiet room. She deposited the nearly empty bottle on the table next to her with a dull thud and brought the fine crystal to her lips. Before she had time to swallow, she heard the hushed sweep of the room’s pocket doors being opened.
Griffin stood in the entryway, his arms held out to the sides as he considered her. She closed her eyes, imagining how she appeared to him. Hair disheveled by agitated fingers. Her dress twisted around her body, the hem rising high on her thighs. A single shoe clung to the toes of one foot, the other having mysteriously disappeared.
With careful deliberation, she let the chardonnay descend her throat before looking down her nose at him.
“Go away,” she told him flatly.
He lowered his arms but continued to stare.
“I said, go away!”
“Yes. I heard you.” He closed the distance between them, making her pulse trip. “Let me help you upstairs, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
She laughed. “I don’t need your help.”
His expression of mild amusement dissolved. He loomed over her. The barely checked dark authority in his presence overwhelmed her defiance. Leaning forward, he plucked the goblet from her bloodless fingers as well as snatching up the bottle next to her.
“I am not done,” she protested feebly.
“Yeah, you are.”
He took two backward steps, holding eye contact with her until he turned to set the items on the sideboard, out of her reach. When he spun to face her, she spotted her missing high heel. It slanted precariously against a deep-cut crystal decanter. She kept her focus on it as he came to stand in front of her, reaching down to curve his hands over her hips. Splaying her fingers over the glossy mahogany beneath her, she tried to absorb the wood’s intractable strength.
“You have every right to be angry with me.”
She snapped her gaze to his. “How thoughtful of you to give me permission.”
“I was an ass—”
“Again,” she interjected, lifting her brows for emphasis.
“Again,” he readily agreed. “And I’m apologizing—again.” He dipped his head, shaking it slowly from side-to-side before facing her. “I am sorry.”
She softened at his conciliatory tone. “I believe you. Now, please, let me be.”
He searched her face and she held her breath, hoping he would not detect the growing part of her yearning for him to stay.
“I had a chance to speak with Morgan this evening.” His warm smile told her, like most people, he’d developed a quick fondness for her sorella.
“Oh?”
“She told me honesty is extremely important to you.”
“That is true,” she confirmed, wary of where the conversation might be headed.
“Then why didn’t you tell Max and Janice and Tyler I might refuse the inheritance?”
“It was not for me to tell.” She shrugged. “I also felt it would do more harm than good. It will be challenging enough for you to step in for your father.”
“So you compromised yourself and the family business for, what, my benefit?”
“I did not think of it in those terms,” she said slowly. “But, yes, I guess I did.”
“Why, Lillian?” he whispered. “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
He was sliding her forward, leaving her no option but to spread her legs to accommodate him. With a final tug, he brought her up, hard, against him, their noses almost touching. Her dangling shoe fell to the floor with a jarring thump.
He tripped his fingers up her back and along the column of her neck before tangling them in her hair, tugging until she tipped her face to his.
“Tell me.”
She closed her eyes against his demand.
His tongue—warm, wet, coarse—swept her lips. He tasted her, teasing the fragile ribbons of flesh until they wavered from his attentions. His stiff heat strained along the barrier of her satin panties. It’s been so long! An infinitesimal grumble from an unknown quarter reminded her. Between the demands of the final stage of Leonard’s illness and her increased responsibilities at BDI, she had been celibate for the last six months. Lillian’s resistance began to crumble like ruins beneath the desert’s sun.
“Put an end to this—for both of us,” he implored.
She brought her hands to his face and looked into his eyes, noticing the flecks of blue within the gray had lightened to cerulean.
“I want you. I have from the beginning. Now, please,” she begged. “Please.”
With a triumphant growl, he planted his mouth on hers, his tongue sliding between her lips. In an erotic and leisurely ballet, he explored, trailing the insides of her cheeks and bumping over and around her teeth until she twined the rippling muscle with her own and sucked it into her mouth. His erection grew insistent, demanding to be released.
She insinuated her hands between their bodies, seeking his belt buckle. She tucked her fingers into his waistband for leverage and then worked at freeing the tail of leather from its metal confines with her thumbs. Before she could complete her task, he grasped her wrists and pulled her to her feet.
He nipped at her bottom lip, bruising the sensitive skin and making her bow into him. Slowly, he lowered the zipper of her dress. Her head lolled back on a sigh as he traced his fingers along her bared spine. He pushed her dress off her shoulders, the silk caressing her legs as it fell to the floor.
He lifted her into his arms before lowering her back onto the table, laying her out along the edge. Bending over her, he smoothed her hair and arranged her limbs like she was some intricate, decadent dessert and then straightened, considering her through heavy-hooded eyes.
“Lovely.” He reached out,
running a finger beneath the piped edging of her bra. “Touch yourself.”
She inhaled sharply, her thighs clenching.
“No. Leave it on,” he instructed when she reached for the silver clasp.
She slid her hands over the silken material, kneading the soft mounds beneath the inconvenient, unyielding fabric. Pleasure jolted through her, nonetheless, traveling the length of her body to settle in the juncture of her thighs. She shifted her legs against one another in frustrated agitation, scissoring her tightening nipples between her fingers.
“Play with yourself.”
Gasping at his earthy command, she tore her hands from her breasts, skimming them over her body to glide beneath her panties. Opening her lips wide, she plunged her middle finger deep, delighting in the clinging, pulsing thrill. She slipped the slick finger up and over her intimate folds, moving in ever tightening circles over her clitoris until her thighs began to quiver.
Joining her forefinger to her middle finger, she thrust them inside her body with as much force as her position and the confinement of the damnable under things would allow. She hoped to stave off the orgasm threatening to overtake her far too soon, but the tickling, teasing tension continued to build.
Griffin angled over her, his gaze shifting from her face to the activity between her thighs and back again.
“Fuck, Lillian, so beautiful.”
And then he was kissing her, his hands braced on either side of her head—mind-bending, soul-searing kisses, without beginning or end, leaving her reeling. The primitive woke, taking control of her hands to maintain a steady rhythm while Griffin’s lips, hot and demanding, provided the distraction she’d been seeking and kept her tripping along the edge of climax.
When she groaned into his mouth, he drew back a hair’s breadth to tell her, “Almost.”
“Please, no,” she begged her body, but the convulsive clenching which signaled the point of no return had been triggered by his one-word promise and would not be denied easily.
Griffin seized the moment to plunder her mouth with his tongue, the deliberate invasion snatching her from the brink. He seemed to know exactly how to keep her on the verge. Surely, her release would be extraordinary, whenever he decided to let her go.
Gilding Lillian Page 9