wish.
Junior arched against him and slid her long legs slowly, sinuously into place, twined among his own, and hummed with pleasure. Griff’s blood pounded through his veins, the delicate friction of her body against him like silk, like melting butter.
“Junior,” he whispered. “This is, ah, different, this time.”
“Mmmmh,” she assented, then opened her eyes wide and smiled at him. “I’m actually all here to enjoy it this time. No first-date jitters, no bottle of champagne…”
And then she skimmed her fingers lightly down his back, down, down, and did something that made him forget all about the last time they’d made love.
“Wait,” he commanded hoarsely. “I’ll be right back.”
Reluctantly he pulled back from her and reached for the tangle of clothes on the floor. In his pants pocket he found the protection he was looking for and started ripping open the packet as he returned to her. The moonlight lit her body like a priceless statue, an artist’s tribute to a woman’s beauty, and he slid back next to her almost shaking with anticipation.
But her smile was gone.
“What are you doing,” she asked, her voice small.
Griff paused. “Protection,” he said.
“But…why? I mean, we already…”
There was hurt in her voice, and he hated it, wanted to comfort, to protect.
But he had to protect himself too.
“Junior.” He reached a hand to caress her face, but she didn’t respond to his touch, just kept looking at him, her eyes wide. “You know I don’t want to—I want to be safe.”
“But last night—”
“Last night I made a mistake. And I don’t want to compound it by making another one. I’m going to honor my responsibilities,” he added hastily as he saw the fire die in her eyes.
“I know,” Junior said softly, “You’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking. Here, let me help.”
And though her fingers were magic as they twined around him, the heat and the need were gone, and Griff stilled her. He took her hands in his and pressed them to his chest.
“Look,” he said. “If you’re not, if this isn’t—”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Junior said, and then she smiled, a lovely smile but with too much sadness around the edges, and the last of Griff’s pounding desire began to subside.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
It was true. He was sorry he’d ever stopped in Poplar Bluff, sorry he’d had that damn toothache, but most of all he was sorry that he’d ever put that sadness in her eyes.
It was Junior who pulled away, gently, gracefully, winding her long legs out from under him and somehow wrapping herself in the sheet so that she sat like a robe-draped goddess at the edge of the bed.
“Hey, these things happen,” she said brightly. “Better luck next time, right?”
Griff realized that she was waiting for him to go. He saw how tightly she clutched the white sheet, how the mask of cheerfulness had settled down on her face.
It tore at him. He didn’t want her to be the one in pain. He wanted to shoulder the whole burden, he wanted that happiness back in her eyes.
Even if it wasn’t him that put it there.
“I—I’ll go fix us some tea,” he said. He’d give her the solitude he wanted, even though he suspected she’d use the time to retreat further into herself.
“Oh. That sounds great.”
Griff hesitated at the door. “You were wonderful,” he said softly, but the words weren’t adequate for what he was feeling. “You are wonderful. This is all going to turn out—you’re going to get the happiness you deserve. You’ll see.”
But as he slipped away, he remembered that look of sadness etched on her face, and he wasn’t so sure.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Junior’s heart started beating a little faster as she reached the steps, and her feet slowed down. She paused and looked at her house.
It had been three days since Griff moved his things over, three days since that disastrous night of the party. Griff had been
Junior arched against him and slid her long legs slowly, sinuously into place, twined among his own, and hummed with pleasure. Griff’s blood pounded through his veins, the delicate friction of her body against him like silk, like melting butter.
“Junior,” he whispered. “This is, ah, different, this time.”
“Mmmmh,” she assented, then opened her eyes wide and smiled at him. “I’m actually all here to enjoy it this time. No first-date jitters, no bottle of champagne…”
And then she skimmed her fingers lightly down his back, down, down, and did something that made him forget all about the last time they’d made love.
“Wait,” he commanded hoarsely. “I’ll be right back.”
Reluctantly he pulled back from her and reached for the tangle of clothes on the floor. In his pants pocket he found the protection he was looking for and started ripping open the packet as he returned to her. The moonlight lit her body like a priceless statue, an artist’s tribute to a woman’s beauty, and he slid back next to her almost shaking with anticipation.
But her smile was gone.
“What are you doing,” she asked, her voice small.
Griff paused. “Protection,” he said.
“But…why? I mean, we already…”
There was hurt in her voice, and he hated it, wanted to comfort, to protect.
But he had to protect himself too.
“Junior.” He reached a hand to caress her face, but she didn’t respond to his touch, just kept looking at him, her eyes wide. “You know I don’t want to—I want to be safe.”
“But last night—”
“Last night I made a mistake. And I don’t want to compound it by making another one. I’m going to honor my responsibilities,” he added hastily as he saw the fire die in her eyes.
“I know,” Junior said softly, “You’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking. Here, let me help.”
And though her fingers were magic as they twined around him, the heat and the need were gone, and Griff stilled her. He took her hands in his and pressed them to his chest.
“Look,” he said. “If you’re not, if this isn’t—”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Junior said, and then she smiled, a lovely smile but with too much sadness around the edges, and the last of Griff’s pounding desire began to subside.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
It was true. He was sorry he’d ever stopped in Poplar Bluff, sorry he’d had that damn toothache, but most of all he was sorry that he’d ever put that sadness in her eyes.
It was Junior who pulled away, gently, gracefully, winding her long legs out from under him and somehow wrapping herself in the sheet so that she sat like a robe-draped goddess at the edge of the bed.
“Hey, these things happen,” she said brightly. “Better luck next time, right?”
Griff realized that she was waiting for him to go. He saw how tightly she clutched the white sheet, how the mask of cheerfulness had settled down on her face.
It tore at him. He didn’t want her to be the one in pain. He wanted to shoulder the whole burden, he wanted that happiness back in her eyes.
Even if it wasn’t him that put it there.
“I—I’ll go fix us some tea,” he said. He’d give her the solitude he wanted, even though he suspected she’d use the time to retreat further into herself.
“Oh. That sounds great.”
Griff hesitated at the door. “You were wonderful,” he said softly, but the words weren’t adequate for what he was feeling. “You are wonderful. This is all going to turn out—you’re going to get the happiness you deserve. You’ll see.”
But as he slipped away, he remembered that look of sadness etched on her face, and he wasn’t so sure.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Junior’s heart started beating a little faster as she reached the steps, and her feet slowed down. She paused and looked at her house.
It had been three days since Griff moved his things over, three days since that disastrous night of the party. Griff had been
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