“Why are you here?”
He pushes off the wall and walks over to me in the middle of the kitchen. Reaching up with one hand, he brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes with his fingertips and I have to fight the urge not to shiver when his fingers graze the skin of my forehead. I notice something out of the corner of my eye though and I grab his hand and hold it in front of my face.
“Why are your knuckles bruised?” I demand as I stare at the red, swollen area and lightly run my thumb over it.
He shrugs and pulls his hand out of my grasp. “Oh, you know. Ran into a door or something. I don’t remember.”
It occurs to me that Alex gave me the same answer when I asked him what happened to his face.
“Griffin, what did you do?” I demand.
“Don’t worry about it,” he answers quickly.
Oh my God. He punched Alex in the face. Why did he punch Alex in the face now? I told him the other night about Alex being a deadbeat dad and then this morning, Alex suddenly shows up at my house with a shiner, wanting to spend time with the girls. Did he seriously go to Alex’s apartment and beat him up for me? For the girls? This should piss me off. Alex should want to spend time with his own daughters without needing his face rearranged to do it. It doesn’t piss me off though; it melts my frozen heart.
“Griffin,” I whisper softly, looking up into his face.
“Did he pick the girls up?” he asks.
I nod in response, unable to speak.
“Good.”
He brings his hand up and cups my cheek in his palm, rubbing his thumb slowly back and forth against the side of my face, staring at my mouth. I feel my insides melting into a puddle of goo and I want him to kiss me so badly I feel like I’m going to scream if he doesn’t do it already.
As he eases his head down to me, I start to close my eyes in anticipation of his lips against mine. Then, my stupid brain has to interfere and I remember what happened last night. It was all fun and games until the kiss was over.
Putting both of my hands flat against his chest, I shove him away angrily and take a few steps back.
“No. No, no, no. You don’t get to kiss me again. Not after that crap last night,” I tell him angrily.
“Crap? I thought that kiss was pretty amazing. Crap? Really?” he asks again in shock.
How can a man this good-looking be so dense?
“I thought you needed rescuing,” I say in a mocking voice, just like his the previous night. “I don’t need you, or anyone to rescue me. And I definitely don’t need you or any man to kiss me because he feels sorry for me.”
I watch as the lightbulb finally clicks on and the humor in his eyes gets replaced by something fierce as he stalks toward me. I quickly move backward until I bump up against the counter and have nowhere else to go. Griffin puts his arms on either side of me on the counter, caging me in.
“Let’s get something straight here,” he tells me with a firm voice. “I have never felt sorry for you. When I kiss you, it’s because I want to, not because I have to. I saw the look on your face last night. You felt like shit next to that girl. You’re too much of a stubborn hard-ass to feel like less than you are around anyone. Especially someone like her.”
His eyes bore into mine and butterflies flap manically around in my stomach. Why is it so hard to stay mad at this man?
Without giving it a second thought, I grab the front of his shirt with both of my fists and haul him toward me, crashing my lips against his. Right now, I don’t care how bad of an idea this is. No one has ever said anything like that to me before and meant it.
Griffin immediately pushes his tongue past my lips and I moan into his mouth when I taste him again. He grabs onto my hips and effortlessly lifts me up onto the counter. My legs immediately wrap around his waist and my hands fist in his hair as he swirls his tongue through my mouth and pushes his hips between my legs. I can feel his erection again, just like last night, but this time, the hardness of him is right where I want it, pushing against the ache that formed as soon as he spoke those words to me. His hands slide around to my ass and he pulls me closer to the edge of the counter. I instinctively thrust my hips against him and it’s his turn to groan.
It’s been far too long since I’ve felt this needy. Every inch of my body is on fire and I can’t stop pushing my body against him. Jesus, he feels so good between my legs, sliding himself against me. I’m ashamed to admit that if he keeps this up, I’m probably going to have the fastest orgasm known to man. Or woman. His lips leave mine and he makes a trail of kisses across my cheek and to the side of my neck as he grips my ass and moves me against him. The tip of his tongue traces the edge of my earlobe before he tugs on it gently with his teeth.
“Fuck, you taste good. I’ve wanted you like this for eighteen years,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my neck.