Risking It All

by Christi Barth

“Snacks?”

  He glared down at the offending creamy lump. “Sort of. More significant, though.”

  “The cheese isn’t just cheese? Is this a mystery, or a weird spin on a Rorschach test?”

  Griffin hauled in a breath. She’d either think this was stupid or sweet. Maybe he’d at least get points for the gesture? Reaching across, he curled fingers beneath her palm and rubbed his thumb across the soft skin on top.

  “I think we both want tonight to be your first time. It’s okay if we don’t get there,” he added hurriedly. Chloe could pull the rip cord and parachute to safety at any point. Griff had promised himself that. “But it didn’t seem fair that you were the only one having a first time.”

  “Hear, hear.”

  “The things I still want to try for the first time don’t really lend themselves to happening in my kitchen. I want to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef. Fly a supersonic jet.” Thanks to the sharp veer in his career path, that one probably wouldn’t happen anymore. Shit. He needed a different one. “Throw a pig roast, Hawaiian style. Whole pig, up on our roof deck.”

  Chloe looked up, as if charcoal was about to come raining through the ceiling. “You aren’t worried about burning the place down?”

  “Riley is. That’s why we haven’t done it yet.”

  “Thank goodness,” she murmured. A smile fluttered over her lips.

  Griffin could tell she was relaxing. Or at least not thinking so damn hard about what was going to happen. “Here’s the thing—I’ve never eaten goat cheese.”

  Chloe’s jaw dropped. “This isn’t the fifties, Griff. Goat cheese is as ubiquitous now as plain old cheddar was back then.”

  “No kidding. I have to work pretty hard to avoid it.” He wanted to call what came out of her glossy purple lips a giggle, but it was probably closer to a snort.

  “Why don’t you just try it?”

  Only the eight millionth time he’d fielded that question. “I was a kid when I first saw it on a menu. I flipped out. Was positive they ground up actual cute goats that I’d just seen at the petting zoo.”

  “You do know it’s just the milk?” she asked with a remarkably straight face.

  Griff pinched her wrist lightly. “I’m aware. But twenty years later, I still can’t get that image out of my head. So I’ve avoided goat cheese. Until tonight. For you. To make a metaphorical attempt to equalize things, I’m going to try goat cheese for the first time.”

  Her smile seemed to fill the entire kitchen. “Oh, Griff. That’s incredibly sweet of you. I’d like to say the gesture’s enough—”

  “Great!”

  “—but…I really like goat cheese. I cook with it all the time.” She pushed the wooden board closer to him. Swiped a cracker through the cheese and held it in front of his lips. “Be brave, Lieutenant.”

  Crap. Chloe was pretty softhearted. Romantic. He’d been holding out hope that the offer would be enough. But he did want to be fair. Or at least take a running swing at it. So Griff closed his eyes. Tried to swallow down the part of his stomach already roiling in protest. Opened his mouth.

  Nothing happened.

  “Don’t open your eyes,” she ordered. “Hang on. Trust me.”

  Oh, he did. As much as he trusted every member of his crew to do their part in the middle of a rescue. No, more than that. As much as he trusted all the ACSs.

  When the cracker hit his tongue, he bit down. A creamy tang coated his taste buds…in the best possible way. Sweet, too. God. Knox would never let him live down how many years he’d wasted skipping the stuff. He popped open his eyelids to see Chloe grinning at him.

  “Well?”

  “It’s fantastic.”

  “I know.” She made him another one. “I drizzled it with honey so it would go down easier the first time.”

  He’d like to drizzle her with honey and go down for the first time. Christ. Chloe had been here five minutes and his patience was already running on fumes. Stuffing the cracker in his mouth—God, that was good—didn’t do anything to ease his hunger for her. “Help yourself. Looks like Jerry’s got six different cheeses on here. Must’ve been convinced I’d hate the goat.”

  “Jerry cooks, too?”

  “All the time. Wait, it’s Monday? It’s his cooking class night. We’ll get some awesome leftovers in a couple of hours.”

  “You invite me over for dinner and expect me to subsist on cheese until leftovers walk in the house?”

  He snatched the cracker she had halfway to her mouth and put it in his own. Disrespect his cooking skills, give up your snack. “Such little faith in me.” Griffin opened the refrigerator and pointed to a shelf full of small bowls. “There’s your dinner.”

  “What is it?”

  “Homemade pizza. All prepped and ready to go. Except I wasn’t sure what you like, so I’ve got everything. Pepperoni, mushrooms, bell peppers, pineapple, ham, two kinds of olives, hot peppers.”

  Chloe hopped down to come around and peer into the fridge. “Yum.”

  “To which ones?”

  “To all of it.” She ran a hand down his chest, lingering over his heart. “If you’re trying to impress me, it’s working.”

  Since he was going for the long haul with Chloe, Griff came clean. “Actually, we make pizza here all the time. It’s easy to throw together at the last minute. Whenever. So we could eat now…or later. Much later.”

  Griff immediately wanted to kick himself. Heavy-handed idiot. Might as well have pulled a bowl of condoms out and set it on the island next to the hunk of Stilton. His heart wanted to tread carefully, patiently with her. A certain other part of his anatomy, however, seemed to be trying to go full throttle.

  Sure enough, Chloe retreated back to her stool. “What do you want to do?”

  Damn it. He wouldn’t rush her. But they weren’t going to keep volleying back and forth like this all night either. Better to lay the intent out there. Griffin handed her the glass full of bubbles that almost matched the color of her top. “I want to take you to bed.” He held up his own glass in a toast. “To a night of firsts.”

  She clinked his glass and swallowed without saying a word. Then she scrunched up her face. Not a good sign. There was a podcast topic: when your girlfriend morphed into Yoda, shit was about to hit the fan.

  “What if I waited too long?”

  Griff moved on to the Havarti. Because if things went well, he’d need the protein energy boost. “For what?”

  “To have sex. It’s scientifically proven that children find it easier to learn a new language than adults. Their brains are more elastic.”

  He thought back to the way she’d straddled him on the couch last night. “You’re plenty elastic.”

  “Well, what if I’m just no good at it? Old dogs, new tricks, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Chloe, stop.” As an allowance to her skittishness, he stayed on his side of the island. It was hard, though. His gut was telling him to go over there and kiss the nerves out of her. This, however, seemed to be the sort of situation when he should listen to instincts only from the neck up. “You’re getting yourself all churned up. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

  “Yes, we do. Waiting won’t change anything.”

  “Maybe this will.” Griff dug into a drawer to retrieve the envelope he’d hidden earlier. He tossed it onto the island. Grabbed his glass and the bottle of wine. “I’ll be in my bedroom. Go up the stairs one flight. Mine’s the door on the right.”

  Her mouth dropped open a little. “You wrote me a letter?”

  “It’s what you’re all about, right? Figured it’d be the best way to connect. Read it. Then come find me. We’ll either go to bed or watch a movie. But if we’re not having sex, I at least get to choose the flick.”

  Chapter 19

  Chloe ate another cracker. Sipped her wine. She waited until his footsteps disappeared up the stairs. When was the last time anyone had written her a letter? Probably not since the deluge of get-well cards from the shooting had died off
. They were such an important part of her life, but nobody wrote them to her. A quick, dashed-off thank-you email, sure. But nothing in an envelope. Nothing with the emotional heft to it of ink on paper.

  No matter what it actually said inside, the fact that he’d taken the time to reach out on her playing field was an absolute treat. What a special, romantic man. One whom she was probably driving nuts with her vacillating.

  Of course she wanted Griffin. Of course she wanted to have sex with him. But when you waited ten—or more—years past when everyone else hit a milestone, fears and doubts inevitably had time to creep in. The last thing Chloe wanted to do was disappoint Griff. He deserved better.

  He deserved a total sexpot. Instead, for some unknowable reason, he’d gone for her in her hoodies. What if she let him down, and he was too much of an officer and a gentleman to say so? What if…it was like beer, and it needed to be tried a few times before you figured out how good it was?

  Gah. Thinking about it didn’t improve things. She pounced on the envelope. Scrabbled through three drawers to find a boning knife to carefully slit it open. The heavy linen card was plain, with a thin navy border. The kind they kept at card stores as samples for embossing. Griff must’ve gone shopping just for this occasion. Her throat thickened.

  Dear Chloe,

  I’m hoping tonight is your first time (but no pressure). The thing is, this is my first time, too…telling a woman that I love her. I love you. I love how you take your time enjoying every step of things, from unpeeling an orange (never seen anyone do it with a knife before!) to choosing just the right pen for a letter.

  I love your inner core of strength and bravery. I love your laugh and easy smile. I love how precise you are with your words. I love the way you treat me and listen to me and make me talk.

  I know I’m going to love being inside you. Being as close as two people can get, with our bodies and our hearts. Whenever you’re ready.

  Love, Griffin

  Holy moly, but the man could turn a phrase. This letter should’ve come with its own soundtrack. A big, lush orchestral crescendo to match the swelling in her rapidly beating heart. Chloe blotted her suddenly overflowing eyes with the edge of the dish towel. Then she drained her glass. And then she ran up the stairs.

  Quietly, she turned the big brass knob to peek inside. Griff was pacing back and forth in front of windows that went from the floor up to the ornate crown molding. For maybe a second she registered how the swagged velvet drapes matched the single navy wall behind the bed. Bed. Griffin. Mmm-hmm, that was suddenly all the thought she could muster.

  “I’m ready,” Chloe said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. Those might be the two most on-point words she’d said in her entire life.

  Griffin spun around. At first it seemed like he was going to rush her, but instead he walked to the fireplace and lit the row of candles down its middle. “We have all night, you know.” Then he moved to the pillar on the nightstand. Clearly he’d planned ahead in this regard as well. “There’s no rush.”

  Heart bursting through her throat, she said, “There really is. Because you love me and I…well, I love you right back. And as much as I love words, I think there’s a much better way right now to express that to each other.”

  The calm, patient, coaxing man disappeared. Griffin did rush her then. So much so that they staggered back until she hit the door from his exuberant embrace. He was kissing her everywhere, all at once. Soft kisses that trailed along her neck, across her cheek, along the draped vee of her neckline, back up to her lips. They made her giggle and sigh all at once.

  “You warm?” Griff’s lips didn’t leave her skin as he spoke. The words being muffled against her chest were all the sexier.

  “I’m burning up.”

  “Good.” He stripped off her jacket and tossed it toward the center of the room. Griffin ran his hands up and down her arms. Just once, and then she stopped him.

  “You said you wanted things to be fair between us tonight.”

  “Yeah.”

  Funny how a little thing like pledging their love to each other emboldened her. “So lose your sport coat,” Chloe ordered. Wow. His lips still didn’t leave her skin—he’d wandered up to her neck again—as his jacket swiftly hit the floor with a soft thud.

  Griffin kissed her shoulder. It astounded her. Shoulders shouldn’t be erogenous zones. Every summer, Chloe’s burned and peeled, and that was the extent of the excitement either of her shoulders had ever experienced. Shoulders, knees, elbows were working joints. There for purpose, not pleasure. Yet Griff’s mouth set off sparks everywhere it touched. Sparks that didn’t just stay in one place, at her shoulder, but sent a trail like a shooting star of desire down the entire length of her arm. It was, hands down, the best her right arm had felt in her entire life.

  Griff didn’t stop at her shoulder. No, he proceeded to suck and lick at the skin of her elbow just enough to bring every nerve racing to the surface, gasping for his attention. Her nerve endings were evidently shameless little hussies.

  Down to her wrist, then lower, where he did something wet and wicked with his tongue in the center of her palm that made Chloe’s knees wobble. God. It was entirely possible if he repeated that move a few times she’d orgasm just from that. And it made her shake off the purple enamel bracelet on her other wrist to give the man room to work his magic.

  Curving her arm around his neck, he whispered, “Wrap your legs around me.”

  Confused, Chloe hooked an ankle around his. Couldn’t manage the other one without falling over, though. At his soft chuckle, her brain kicked into a higher gear. Oh. Oh. Clearly she needed to shut off her brain entirely and let instinct take over.

  With a tiny leap, she got her legs around his waist. It pressed all the right parts together. Made her completely forget their six-inch height differential. Things lined up just the way they should. This would work after all.

  No. That was stupid. No running commentary of subconscious paranoia would be allowed. It would work for two reasons: because they loved each other, and because Griffin obviously had all the moves and then some.

  Griffin circled them around, hands supporting her ass in an easy show of strength that almost took her breath away. Then he stood her on the padded bench at the foot of the bed. “Let’s get rid of those weapons you’re packing.”

  “Weapons?”

  “The spikes you call heels on your boots.” He lifted her foot to slide off the ankle boot. It was such a sensuous, private gesture. Chloe couldn’t switch feet fast enough to let him do the other one. “You could stab right through a man’s calf with those in the heat of passion.”

  “Griffin, I’m already in the heat of passion.”

  “Nope.” He unclasped her necklace.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Hands anchored on her hips, Griffin shook his head. “You may think you are. But I guarantee we’ve barely begun. Phosphorus, for example, auto-ignites at just 93 degrees. Paper at 424. But anthracite doesn’t hit it until 1112. Tonight, you and me, we’re channeling anthracite.” Griffin shed his shoes, socks, and shirt.

  The sight of his naked chest almost crossed her eyes. Hmm. It sounded exotic. Like a fiery planetary jewel from far off in the solar system. “What’s anthracite?”

  “Coal.”

  Chloe grabbed at the hand pushing up her top. “Our high bar for the evening is to feel like a lump of coal?”

  “It burns supernova-hot, and pure. Works for me.”

  Guess this is what she got for dating someone whose knowledge base included different kinds of jet fuel. And it was romantic, if you stretched your mind a little. “Okay, Lieutenant.” Inevitable giggles poured out. “Turn me into coal.”

  He got her jeans unzipped and off in record time. Chloe helped by pulling off her shirt. And then Griff froze, staring at her lace-covered torso. “You bought it?”

  “The lingerie you picked out as sexy that day in my apartment?” Thank goodness he remembered. “Of
course. I knew I wanted to do this with you. Why not wear something I already knew would drive you crazy?”

  He traced the deep vee of royal blue lace that dipped almost to her belly button. That light touch of one finger sent shivers from her head to toe. Then he traced lower, along the scalloped fringe covering her hip to the edge of the narrow strip that disappeared between her legs. Chloe’s knees did literally buckle at that point. Griff caught her, palming her ass, which was completely exposed by the G-string. They both groaned at the intimate clasp.

  “If I remember that conversation right, you wanted lingerie that’d knock my pants right off. Mission accomplished.”

  Chloe stared. Just…stared as he stripped off his jeans. Stared at his big thighs dusted with dark gold hair. Stared at the darker trail of hair arrowing down his belly. But what made her mouth suddenly Sahara-dry was the enormous bulge in the front of his dark blue boxer briefs. Appreciating men’s, um, assets with Summer during a movie about dancing male strippers was one thing. Being confronted with the reality of the many, many inches of Griffin that were supposed to fit inside her was an entirely different thing, and rapidly seeming impossible.

  “You’re absolutely beautiful, Chloe. I’m not good with words like you are, so I’m just gonna show you how much I want you.” He took her hand and flattened it right on his rock-hard length.

  Chloe squeaked. In surprise. In excitement. And then wanted to die of mortification at the sound she’d made. One she was positive he’d heard. Why did it have to be so quiet? “There’s no music.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Oh.” The lack of any background noise, the quiet, and the darkness pressed in close so there was only Griff to concentrate on. Flickering candlelight and the faint scent of flowers from the melting wax drenched her in romance.

  His hands were back on her butt, squeezing and caressing and molding. “I want to hear all the sexy sounds you make. Every pant, every mewl, every cry lets me know what you like. Where you like me to touch you.”

  “Everywhere,” she breathed. And put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.