He leveled a gaze at Riley that seemed oddly heated, considering they were talking about how much he didn’t want a woman. Unless… No. He couldn’t mean that.
“What do you want, then?” She tried to keep her tone light, but her voice broke on the last word. His affect didn’t change. She was probably imagining the faint flame that rose, then fell behind his stony expression.
“I want somebody who can find her way through the dark,” he said. “Somebody who knows what it’s like to fail and have to claw your way back to life after the dust settles. Somebody who’s been through the fire.”
“That’s what I thought.” Riley didn’t think Fawn was the right woman for Griff, either, and it wasn’t just jealousy. Griff had put into words exactly what was bothering her. “You need somebody who’s seen the bigger picture. Somebody tough. But I don’t know why you’d want somebody who failed. I was thinking somebody strong, like you—a kickass Army Ranger girl, or a real Jane Bond.”
Because if you want someone who failed, I’m it. I don’t know why you’d want that, but here I am. I’ve crashed and burned a dozen times. Is that what you want?
He reached out and took her hand to pull her down beside him.
“It’s a phoenix, right?”
She stared at him, confused by the total change of subject.
“Your tattoo.” With a faint smile, he stroked the curling inked tail that coiled up from her collar. “It rises from the fire, and it’s stronger for it, right?”
His hand followed the feathers that coiled around her neck, while his eyes glowed with reflected light from the tree. A Christmas hush fell over the room, and the scene felt somehow holy—so she didn’t pull away when he cupped the back of her head, those eyes on hers, sleepy, smiling. He’d just kissed another woman, and now he was—what was he doing?
She didn’t care, because hey, it was the season of giving, not the season of asking questions.
“Come on,” he said softly. “Come here.”
Drawn by that flame, she closed the distance between them, and their lips met in a kiss that seemed to change the texture of the night, binding them together in a sweet, clandestine dream. She closed her eyes, feeling dizzy, disembodied, as if she’d stumbled into Alice’s rabbit hole and lost all sense of time and self. All that was left was sensation—the questing press of his lips, the tangle of their tongues, his fingers forked in her hair as he took her so thoroughly she was sure she’d be changed forever.
Except for that night at the quarry, she’d kissed all the wrong men for all the wrong reasons. There’d always been an equation, a transaction. You do me and I’ll do you. I need this, I’ll give you that. But kissing Griff wasn’t about giving or taking. It was about finding a place to belong.
It had taken a long time to find that place, and that was fine with her. She never wanted to leave this kiss. Never wanted to come back to the real world.
But all good things come to an end, and she wanted that to be on her terms. Finally, regretfully, she pulled away, but he held her close, and she couldn’t help it. She let him. She rested her head on his chest and breathed in the scent of him.
“This is what I came back for.” The rumble of his voice vibrated through her body, and she shivered. “I told her some story about an old war wound acting up, but I came back for you.”
Riley closed her eyes, absorbing the words, holding them in her heart, treasuring them—but then she remembered that kiss.
She’d just seen it, so how could she fall for this? Griff wasn’t being sneaky; he was just trying to let her down easy to protect her self-esteem. She’d only believed him because he’d kissed her and shorted out her brain.
Pushing off his shoulder, she stood and shoved her hands in her pockets. She gave him a cockeyed smile to soften the blow, but she didn’t soften her words.
“You’re busted, Griff,” she said. “I saw you kiss Fawn out there.”
He looked stunned. He’d thought she wasn’t watching.
Rising, he stood with his hands loose at his sides. As she watched, he clenched his fists, then unclenched them. “It wasn’t what you think, Riley. She kissed me.”
She laughed. “Griff, it’s okay. I know it’s been a while since you’ve had, you know, women around. You get overexcited—like just now, or this afternoon on the truck. I know it didn’t mean anything.”
“Maybe not to you.”
“Maybe not to you, either, since you left with Fawn, like, half an hour later,” she shot back—but she was still smiling. He was just back from Iraq, after all. The man deserved a break. “Look, I know how you’ve always felt about her, and it’s great she finally realizes what a great guy you are.”
“I’m not a great guy, Riley. I’m a mess.” He spread his hands helplessly. “I mean, look at this moment. I’ve completely screwed up.”
She did her best to laugh. “If you’re a mess, the world needs more messes. You’re a war hero, for heaven’s sake.”
“I’m no hero.” He took her hands and drew her toward him. Resting his forehead against hers, he forced her to meet his gaze. “Trust me, all those reports are wrong. If there’s a hero in this room, it’s you. You’re the one who’s been through the dark and come out strong.” He smiled gently. “That’s why you light up every room you walk into.”
“Only when I bring the wiring up to code.” She smiled and gave his hands a gentle shake. “I got myself into trouble. I’m not a hero for getting out. And trust me, I had help.”
“We all need help. I think you’re mine.”
She slid her gaze sideways, trying to avoid the intensity of his stare. She wanted to shake off his hands, spin around, and flee, but she knew he needed to talk. Hero or not, he’d been prepared to give his life for his country. The least she could do was listen.
“I made mistakes, and it cost some men their lives,” he said. “I feel like a fraud with all Fawn’s hero crap, but if I tell her the truth, she’ll never let it go.” The flame in the depths of his eyes rose even as he seemed to relax. “You’re the only one who gets me at all, Riley. It’s always been that way.” He looked down a moment, and it was clear whatever was coming next was costing him. He wasn’t a man who talked about emotions easily.
“It wasn’t her I thought about over there in the desert,” he finally said. “Those long nights—it was you I remembered. You that got me through. Just you.”
Chapter 23
Riley melted. She couldn’t help it.
Men were always full of flattery when they wanted something—and Griff definitely wanted something he probably wouldn’t get from Fawn. Not yet, anyway. Sweet Fawn Swanson wasn’t going to hop into bed with him after one date—not even after that kiss. Romance for girls like her wasn’t about hot, sweaty, honest sex; it was about candlelit dinners and diamond bracelets, and then she might give in. Tonight, she’d given him that one wild kiss and sent him on his way, crazy with need. A need Riley could satisfy.
Lord knew she wanted to. Heck, she almost had to. The butterflies in her nether parts were having a hoedown, and only his touch, his hand right there, would make them stop.
He was still staring at her, waiting, she realized, for an answer.
And the answer, despite the warning lights in her brain, was rising from her heart—and it was yes.
It wasn’t like Fawn owned him. As a matter of fact, she doubted Fawn could even handle him. As he loomed over Riley like the powerful animal he was, she figured Fawn would squeak like a mouse and run away at the sight of him. It had been a long time since Griff had been with a woman, and it showed—in his kiss, in his eyes, in the waves of heat that were about to carry her away.
She smiled up into those eyes and had one last semirational thought. If innocent little Fawn wanted to ride a riled-up stallion, somebody ought to tame it for her, right? A few rolls between the sheets would smooth his rough e
dges, make him safe enough for Wynott’s sweetheart.
Maybe.
He was so big, so strong, with so many dark secrets, she was almost scared herself. But while female power might be delicate, it was still power. With a flutter of her lashes and a come-hither smile, she called him to her. He lunged for her, clasping her in his arms, pressing his mouth to hers, and they lost themselves together in a darkness all their own.
There was no going back now. Leaning into the kiss, she gave in to the urges coursing through her, sending her inhibitions off to keep her rational mind company where it cowered at the back of her brain. She was going to let the old Riley James come out to play—the Riley who was a bad girl deep inside, always had been. She knew what bad girls were for.
So did Griff.
Deep down, she was sure this wouldn’t end well. It was going to hurt someday when Griff and Fawn Bailey hired her to renovate their house. They’d probably want her to build on a nursery for them. That was how things went for girls like her.
But until then, why shouldn’t she enjoy herself?
* * *
All those years ago, during that night at the quarry, Griff had discovered the real Riley.
Behind her husky voice and blunt way of talking, there’d been a fragile soul. He’d had to move slow, making sure he soothed her and earned her trust.
But there was no fear tonight, no wary eyes or fight-or-flight tension. She’d drawn him in with a flutter of her lashes and a sexy smile. If he’d been able to breathe, he would have laughed, because who knew Riley James could flirt? Somehow, she’d lost her fear and grown into her outsized personality to become, through and through, the woman she appeared to be. It was as if she’d called her own bluff and won.
Despite all that, he still had to be careful. He’d never forgive himself if he hurt her.
“You okay with this?”
“It’s got to be done,” she said. “You’re a cowboy, right?”
“Was. Sort of.” He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“A cowboy has to get back on the bucking bronco, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
He was being stupid, but his brain was absolutely fried by hormones, and he couldn’t work out what she meant.
“The metaphorical one, silly.” She gave his arm a playful slap. “You’ve been terribly, terribly traumatized by Fawn’s ferocious attack, and you need help or you’ll be scarred for life. You might never be with a woman again if I don’t save you.” She grinned and slid her hands up inside his shirt. “I need to save you right now.”
He smiled but hesitated. “I’m not the same guy I was that night. You know that, right?”
“I know.” She pulled his head down and kissed him again, softly this time. “But the real you is still there. The cowboy.” She smiled. “I do love a cowboy. Remember when you used to ride real bucking broncos? You were really something.”
He was surprised at the sting of tears that rose behind his eyes. He had loved high school rodeo. He’d missed the ranch, too, and he wondered if he’d been a better man when he’d worn the hat and boots. He’d definitely been happier, but back then, he hadn’t had the smarts to appreciate it. He’d wanted to see the world, be a hero. Dammit, he never should have left.
Great. Go and cry all over her. Yeesh, she’ll never look at you again.
Her eyes flicked to his, and he knew she’d caught his sadness because she brightened immediately, lifting his mood with hers. “It would be a shame to waste this opportunity,” she said with an exaggerated sweep of her hand. “We have this nice house all to ourselves, snowy night, warm fire…”
He sat down beside her. “Warm woman,” he joked.
“Warm and willing.”
She proved it, making the next kiss harder and needier, a wild, blazing glory of a kiss that continued when he pushed her down onto the cushions. He was on top, he could have sworn he was, but somehow she ended up there, straddling his hips, unbuttoning his shirt and running her hands over his chest.
There was one thing the military had done for him. He had nothing to be ashamed of in the fitness department. The blast that had led him home might have damaged him in a dozen invisible ways, but muscle and sinew and bone were intact.
Others hadn’t been so lucky. In the hospital, he’d kept in shape, spending hours in the gym, working off the stew of anger, angst, and anxiety with reps and sets, lifting more and more weight, taking long journeys, up and up and ever up, on the StairMaster as if working out for his whole unit, for all the men who would never run or climb again.
Riley flipped her long hair to one side so he could see her face. She was biting her lip, and those pale eyes glistened with heat.
Maybe he could finally stop thinking about the past for a while. The explosion, the impact, the order he’d given. The way he’d said it. It was his duty to remember it every day, to relive what had happened every night, but he could put it away just this once. Just for Riley. She’d fought her own war and deserved his full attention.
She was already barely dressed. It was easy to unbutton her pajama top and cup her small breasts. Throwing her head back, she squeezed her eyes closed, her expression blissed out and wanton. His thumbs found her nipples and teased them, and she shook the top off without a trace of shyness, revealing the pale stretch of her torso, the soft mounds on her chest with their perfect pink tips hard under his hands.
He pulled her down and changed positions, lifting himself above her to take one into his mouth, running his tongue over the nub. She moaned, arching her back, and suddenly he wanted her so desperately he could hardly stand it. He needed to strip her pajama bottoms off and have her, right now, right away. It had been a long time, too long, and he had so much emotion, so much need built up…
No. No. Slow down.
He turned his face into the soft curve of her neck and shoulder and breathed in her scent, his body shuddering with need.
“You smell real,” he muttered without thinking. “None of that lilies-of-the-valley crap or whatever it is girls wear.”
She laughed. “Is that a compliment?”
He flushed. “It is from me. I like women who do stuff, not women who sit around primping all day. You hammering away at nails, tearing walls apart—that turns me on, you know. Especially the tool belt.”
She cocked her head and smiled. “You want me to go get it?”
“Nope.” He grinned wolfishly. “No additional clothing, please.”
She laughed again, and he wondered at how easy this was, how natural.
“I’m pretty sure the hammer would get in the way anyway. But”—she bit her lip and gave him a wide-eyed, flirty look as she snapped the elastic—“without the belt, there’s nothing holding these up.”
“That’s a shame.” His voice came out in a low growl, and he glanced at her face, worried she’d notice how much trouble he was having holding himself back, but she was smiling down at him without a trace of nerves.
“Griff,” she said.
“Hmm?” He ran one finger across her waistband, savoring the smooth skin of her belly. The pj’s were low-slung, and she shivered when he tucked the tip of his finger inside.
“We don’t have to go slow,” she said. “I’m dying here, okay? Girls like to have fun, too.”
Hooking her fingers into her waistband, she shimmied her way out of the pj’s. They were loose enough to slide off but tight enough to drag her panties along for the trip, and in a half second, she was naked, gloriously naked, that pale, lean body spread out on his sofa, his for the taming, the taking, the tasting.
* * *
Riley looked up at Griff, who didn’t seem to know where to look. It wasn’t that he was shy. He just couldn’t seem to decide where to stare: her face, her breasts, or a little lower down.
To his credit, he settl
ed on her face.
“Jesus, Riley.” His gaze swept down the length of her again. “You’re beautiful.”
She couldn’t help laughing. She was no beauty, but she was female, and she was naked, and Griff probably hadn’t seen a woman’s body in a long, long time. The realization made her fiercely glad she was the first since his long drought. Her, not Fawn. There was a part of him in this room that would die tonight—the towering need, the deprived soul, the soldier obsessed by a certain kind of thirst—and she’d take that for her own. No matter what happened later, he’d never forget it. Not even Fawn would be able to drive this night out of his memory.
“Beautiful?” She put a finger to her lips, considering. “You’re not bad yourself. But you’re not nearly naked enough.”
He made a short, strangled noise. “Let’s keep the beast under wraps for a minute,” he said. “You let him out, I can’t guarantee he’ll behave.”
“You call him ‘the Beast’?”
He flushed. “Trust me, it fits.”
Laughing, she reached down and unsnapped his jeans. “What makes you think I want him to behave?”
“He moves too fast,” Griff said. “There’s scenery along the way we don’t want to miss.”
“Scenery, huh?” She watched him slide his hands down her body, stroking her curves, and tried to steer him where she wanted him to go, but when he resisted, backed away, and knelt at her feet, she felt dizzy. “Griff, do you think you can… I mean it’s been a long time, and I… This is about you, not me, so…”
“This is about us.” He parted her legs and touched her center, just touched it, and whispered “Oh, man” with such breathless admiration that she thought she’d die right there. She was afraid all her butterflies would spiral up through the ceiling and into the night sky, never to be seen again. But when the warmth of his mouth and the questing velvet of his tongue touched her, they celebrated, wild wings fluttering as she savored Griff’s mouth, his tongue, his touch.
Throwing her head back, she let out a sound, half cat in heat, half Riley. He paused, and she knew he was watching her, enjoying her helpless ecstasy. If it had been anyone else, she would have been embarrassed. But she wasn’t—and she didn’t want to explore just what that meant. Not now.
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