really. But… It must be something about you. Your clothes. Your hair. And why’d you dye it? Aren’t you blonde?”
Her shoulders hitched farther before she relaxed them and turned her head slightly but not to fully facing him.
“Yes. I’m blonde.” She shrugged. “The shirt is from one of my sketches. I made it on my own.”
“It’s silky.”
“You like it?”
“I do. You do great work. But I can’t help but wonder, how would it feel to touch that nice shirt?” He brushed his knuckle down the line of her spine. The softness of the material mated with the heat of her body and the shudder of her response made it inevitable. There was no stopping. “It does feel very nice. Does it smell as good?”
His nose nudged against her spine and he took in a long pull of air. She made a strangled noise. “What?”
“You do smell so nice. Good enough to eat. Like hot, melted sugar.”
A muffled, sexy laugh escaped her.
He nipped her lightly at the ridge of a vertebra. Her legs buckled and he gripped her waist to steady her. Murmuring against her back, he nipped her through her shirt again. “And the pants? They’re silky too.”
His thumbs rotated against the lower edge of her back, rubbing the pants—the kind that clung to every curve—heating him, heating her, through the barriers separating them. His entire body felt exposed, ready, seeking.
“I did make them.” The sureness and the pride couldn’t be clearer. He liked that about her. That she opened all her emotions to him. She was so easy to read. It made it so easy to trust. Vince may have betrayed them in a way Griffin hadn’t seen coming, but the strategist didn’t have that open appeal. Not as Astrid did, straightforward in a way that got to him.
“Then it’s delicious because it’s part of you.”
“You think I’m delicious?” She huffed and leaned forward, putting her forehead against the door. “I don’t think anyone else would ever said that to me. You’re different, Griffin. And you take care of people, don’t you? That’s why you brought me here. Why you made me feel at ease. Just like those plants, all the people you found in the camp, and the people you bring here. But I’m no different than them. I’m just someone you feel you have to take care of.”
“I don’t know about that. I do know I want to take care of this.” He reached around and cupped her mound. The heat coated him even through those silky pants of hers.
“Don’t do that,” she whispered but she didn’t move. Not away, anyway, but she did spread her legs. She said he was a protector, but here she was trying to protect him. He started a rhythmic squeeze and release with his hand and unable to resist, nipped at another vertebrae. Her voice trembled while she obviously sought to distract herself—but she didn’t leave, didn’t run.
“When I went to college, it appealed to me, to design clothes. For me. For others. First time I saw a classmate wear one of mine, I cried.” She braced herself against the door with a groan. “I can’t believe I just told you I cried over something so silly.”
“It’s not silly. You were able to reach out.” He nibbled along her shoulder and she trembled so sweetly. “The things you handled.” Pressing hard, he ground against her mound. She gasped. “All those clothes you could fondle, caress.” His movements were merciless, driving her to climax. “Then they touched those people. You could reach out, in a way, touch through the clothes.”
“I want to touch you.” She groaned and her body bowed back, pressing her fine ass into his hard cock.
“Do you?” he murmured near her ear. Her hair caught against his face. So soft and shiny. His free hand left her waist to run his fingers through. Then he remembered. He dropped his fist to his side. Her nearness made him crazy. He wanted to sink inside her and never come out.
“I do.” Her fingers spread wide on the door as if to anchor herself there. She
Her shoulders hitched farther before she relaxed them and turned her head slightly but not to fully facing him.
“Yes. I’m blonde.” She shrugged. “The shirt is from one of my sketches. I made it on my own.”
“It’s silky.”
“You like it?”
“I do. You do great work. But I can’t help but wonder, how would it feel to touch that nice shirt?” He brushed his knuckle down the line of her spine. The softness of the material mated with the heat of her body and the shudder of her response made it inevitable. There was no stopping. “It does feel very nice. Does it smell as good?”
His nose nudged against her spine and he took in a long pull of air. She made a strangled noise. “What?”
“You do smell so nice. Good enough to eat. Like hot, melted sugar.”
A muffled, sexy laugh escaped her.
He nipped her lightly at the ridge of a vertebra. Her legs buckled and he gripped her waist to steady her. Murmuring against her back, he nipped her through her shirt again. “And the pants? They’re silky too.”
His thumbs rotated against the lower edge of her back, rubbing the pants—the kind that clung to every curve—heating him, heating her, through the barriers separating them. His entire body felt exposed, ready, seeking.
“I did make them.” The sureness and the pride couldn’t be clearer. He liked that about her. That she opened all her emotions to him. She was so easy to read. It made it so easy to trust. Vince may have betrayed them in a way Griffin hadn’t seen coming, but the strategist didn’t have that open appeal. Not as Astrid did, straightforward in a way that got to him.
“Then it’s delicious because it’s part of you.”
“You think I’m delicious?” She huffed and leaned forward, putting her forehead against the door. “I don’t think anyone else would ever said that to me. You’re different, Griffin. And you take care of people, don’t you? That’s why you brought me here. Why you made me feel at ease. Just like those plants, all the people you found in the camp, and the people you bring here. But I’m no different than them. I’m just someone you feel you have to take care of.”
“I don’t know about that. I do know I want to take care of this.” He reached around and cupped her mound. The heat coated him even through those silky pants of hers.
“Don’t do that,” she whispered but she didn’t move. Not away, anyway, but she did spread her legs. She said he was a protector, but here she was trying to protect him. He started a rhythmic squeeze and release with his hand and unable to resist, nipped at another vertebrae. Her voice trembled while she obviously sought to distract herself—but she didn’t leave, didn’t run.
“When I went to college, it appealed to me, to design clothes. For me. For others. First time I saw a classmate wear one of mine, I cried.” She braced herself against the door with a groan. “I can’t believe I just told you I cried over something so silly.”
“It’s not silly. You were able to reach out.” He nibbled along her shoulder and she trembled so sweetly. “The things you handled.” Pressing hard, he ground against her mound. She gasped. “All those clothes you could fondle, caress.” His movements were merciless, driving her to climax. “Then they touched those people. You could reach out, in a way, touch through the clothes.”
“I want to touch you.” She groaned and her body bowed back, pressing her fine ass into his hard cock.
“Do you?” he murmured near her ear. Her hair caught against his face. So soft and shiny. His free hand left her waist to run his fingers through. Then he remembered. He dropped his fist to his side. Her nearness made him crazy. He wanted to sink inside her and never come out.
“I do.” Her fingers spread wide on the door as if to anchor herself there. She
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