Erica's Choice (11 page)

This day of all days she shouldn’t be thinking about sex. It was D-day, the day she would learn the results of the biopsy she’d had on Thursday. Unconsciously, her hand went to the spot on her left breast where the needle had punctured her skin. Her skin tingled, the reality of her situation doing nothing to dampen the remnant effects of last night’s fantasy, nor the intensely erotic dreams that followed Corey’s husked revelations.

I want him too, Erica. I want Griff, but he as good as told me to forget it. Talk to me about him. Tell me how he made you feel.

The words “Ashton Heights” and “house fire” punctuated the drone of morning news snippets, drawing Erica’s attention away from the memories. Erica stilled, her heart thudding, as she listened to the details.

Firefighters were called to the blaze at around 2:30 this morning, but the house was well alight by the time crews arrived. Despite the efforts of emergency workers, the occupants—a young couple and their two children—could not be saved. A spokesperson for Queensland Fire and Rescue said working smoke detectors might have averted the tragedy.

In other news, the prime minister is set to…

Erica’s first thought was for Corey’s well-being. But he was on the phone with her late last night, so he wouldn’t have been on shift. What about Griff? Erica’s eyes stung as she thought of that young family, all of them perished in one terrible event. Had Griff been one of the firefighters forced to stand by and watch as flames obliterated four lives?

Shoving the melancholy and concern to the side, Erica climbed out of bed. She slipped on her plain white cotton robe and, after visiting the bathroom, wandered out to her front porch to see if the paper had been delivered.

No paper graced her lawn, but what she saw instead made her heart slam to a stop. A sleek red Ute was parked across the street. Erica recognized the car and the man sitting behind the wheel, staring at her house.

Erica stood frozen on the porch. After a moment, Griff opened the car door and got out. Even from this distance, she sensed tension in his strides as he crossed the road. He mounted her steps with heavy footfalls. Erica noticed his eyes were bloodshot and there was a shadow of stubble visible on his jaw.

He appeared irate, reckless and decidedly dangerous. Erica’s fear instinct kicked in even though she didn’t think for a minute Griff would hurt her. Her erogenous zones tingled. Seeing Griff again made her feel so much more than trepidation.

“I want you to break it off with Corey.” His abrupt demand hit her like a slap. “If you’re not going to fuck him, stop fucking him around.”

“I’m not.” He responded with nothing more than a sardonically quirked eyebrow which made guilt wash through her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “He calls me.”

“So hang up.”

“Have you ever tried to hang up on Corey?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. Erica easily read the truth in his eyes—no way could he turn Corey away so easily if he were in her situation. “You’re going to hurt him,” Griff said roughly.

“I never want to hurt Corey.”

“Then don’t.” Griff took a step forward and glared down at her. “Next time he calls you’re going to put him out of his misery. Either break it off or fuck the man—I don’t give a shit which one you do.”

“I can see that.”

His eyes flashed at her terse response, a brief gleam of satisfaction. He’d hoped to needle her. Griff had not come here at six o’clock in the morning because he was in a good mood.

No, he’d come here because of last night. He must have witnessed last night’s tragedy. She could feel it in the frustration and pain radiating from him. Why he felt the urge to come here, Erica had no idea. But she sensed his need for something unnamed in every ragged breath, in the flashing vulnerability barely concealed by his bloodshot eyes.

Quietly, she asked, “Is that all you came here for?”

“No. I have to check your smoke alarms.”

Erica blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. It’ll only take five minutes then I’ll leave you in peace.”

Erica doubted any form of peace would be in her near future. Before she could respond to Griff’s odd demand, he had stalked past her into the house.

Erica hurried after him. She found him in the living room, where he had taken it upon himself to pull apart the little circular device embedded in the ceiling. His stance caused his faded red T-shirt to ride up, exposing those ripped abdominal muscles.

Her inner walls contracted and her breasts peaked. Every fantasy she’d ever had involving her tongue and those abs, his mouth and her mouth, her pussy and his cock returned to haunt her. The fact that she was aroused at the mere sight of him despite his high-handed attitude really increased her irritation. “Is this a new service the fire department is offering now? Dawn wake-up calls? I can check my own smoke detectors later.”

“Later when? After this box of kindling you call a house has burnt to the ground with you inside it?” Griff swore graphically as he read something on the side of the device he’d dismantled. “These are out of date. They’d melt from the heat before they made a peep.”

“Excuse me if I’ve been a little too busy lately to do all the requisite household maintenance. What with my aunt dying and all the legalities that came with that. Not to mention…”

When she almost blurted out the facts of her own medical situation, Erica crossed her arms over her chest. As though she needed to hide the cancer from him.

“Not to mention what?”

His golden eyes sharpened. Forcing herself to appear nonchalant, Erica uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips. “I have a job. A life.” The latter, not so much but Erica was hardly going to admit it. “If you’re really concerned about this, I will attend to the smoke alarms as soon as I can.”

“I am concerned. Do it today.”

Erica frowned in exasperation. She had other things on her mind today, but she wasn’t going to tell him that, so she lied to appease him. “All right.”

A relieved breath eased out of him. “Great. Good. It’s so bloody stupid, Red. People die all the time because they neglected something so simple as a battery or an expiry date. Good people. Whole fucking families sometimes. Young people with their lives ahead of them. People like you, damn it.”

Griff stopped dragging his hand through his hair long enough to pin her with his gaze. “You live here all by yourself in a place that looks like it’s itching to be firewood. There’s no one here to look out for you.
You
could die, Erica.”

It was such an ominous, prophetic statement, so mirroring the thought that had been on replay in her mind since that morning she’d found the lump and realized the Shannon genes had caught up with her. Erica couldn’t breathe. It was as though he had curled a hand around her throat and squeezed.

Her expression must have shown her horror. He took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. “Hey, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t touch me.” Erica thought if he tried to hold her she would surely break down and cry on him, reveal all her secrets. When Griff didn’t immediately back away, she reiterated with more force. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

Griff’s face turned hard once again. “Right. Well you might want to rethink the way you’re dressed. That itty-bitty robe doesn’t exactly scream stay away.”

Erica glanced downward. The lapels of the thin cotton garment had fallen open, the gape in the fabric giving away the fact she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She gathered it together at the front, embarrassed. “I wasn’t exactly expecting anyone to come over. I just got out of bed.”

“You always sleep in the nude?”

His query was as rough as bark. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Last night was…hot.”

“Not really.” Griff’s eyes turned from glittering gems to smoking coals in an instant as realization hit. “You get naked when you’re on the phone with Corey.”

Erica swallowed her mortification. “Now that
really
isn’t any of your business.”

“You don’t think?” He walked forward, lethal intent in his eyes. Instinctively, Erica backed up. She hit the wall with a soft thud. Griff pressed one hand flat on the doorjamb beside her head and leaned over her, six feet of powerful, masculine intimidation. “You don’t think I have the right to know the role I played in your little tête-à-tête last night?”

So Corey had told him the nature of their conversations. Erica could have been angry, but it wasn’t rage that made her blood pulse hot through her veins, that flushed her skin all over. The fact that Griff knew aroused her. The fact that he was staring down at her with a similar ferocity of lust making his eyes smolder brought the excitement to fever pitch. He was so close she could smell him—a mingling of smoke and the soap he’d used to try to erase it. So close she could touch that hard chest.

Griff slid a hand insolently into the valley between her thighs and skimmed it upward. He encountered her uncovered sex and cupped it. Erica gasped, but did nothing to stop him. “Tell me what you told Corey last night. What did I do to you in your wicked little mind? Did I do this?”

With seeking fingers he separated her folds and slid one digit effortlessly inside her sodden channel. Erica moaned. Her head dropped back against the wall, a sign of surrender. After the nights of sharing sexual secrets with Corey, secrets that for both of them starred the man who was now skillfully manipulating her folds, Griff’s touch rendered her instantly weak. She couldn’t fight the erotic promises he made with his hands or his words.

“Did I suck this sensitive little clit?” he asked, and circled his thumb lightly over it. “Did Corey and I both fuck you in your dreams? Tell me your secrets, Red. Where did I put my cock last night?”

She opened her eyes and stared at him. “You put it in Corey’s mouth.”

Chapter Eight

Griff froze, not game to move a single muscle, lest the one in his groin region went off like a hair-trigger pistol. Erica held his gaze without flinching, her dark irises swallowing her pupils. Her eyelids drooped over them and her cheeks blushed pink.

Nothing in her expression told him she was in any way turned off by what she’d just said. By what she and Corey had apparently fantasized about together.

Oh God.

The evidence of her arousal coated his fingers, but still he had to know. Griff had to hear Erica say it. “Does it turn you on? The idea of Corey and me. Of watching us.”

Her breath was coming in rapid pants, mingling with his in the scant space between them. She never took her eyes off his. “Yes.”

Jesus Christ.
Instant increase in the size of his already monumental boner. He could barely get his words past the lust-induced lump in his throat. “Red, if you don’t want me to fuck you right now, get out of here. Put some damn clothes on. Otherwise…” He let his gaze trail over her. The circular shadows of her areolae were visible through the too-thin cotton. He was so hard it was criminal. “Otherwise take this poor fucking excuse for cover off, before I rip it off.”

She reached for the sash barely holding the flimsy material together and tugged slowly on the end. He might have thought she was being intentionally tantalizing, if he didn’t recognize the tortured cast of her expression. Her limbs were simply weighed down by the magnitude of her lust, the way his were. He was impatient to be buried inside her, but everything about him felt heavy and sluggish—his arms, his dark, slowly spinning thoughts, his stiff, pulsing cock. His clothes irritated his burning flesh, but he didn’t want to pull his hand out of Erica to tear them off.

The robe parted. The dusky-pink nipples he remembered so well were flushed and tight, pointing right at him. She was slumped against the wall as though she had given herself over to him. He looked his fill of her while she stood there and breathed great lungfuls of air that caused her sweet globes to shimmy and thrust.

He inserted a second finger into her lush wetness, parting them to stretch her. Erica mewled. Her hips rocked. Griff pressed the heel of his hand flush against her mound, supporting her weight with that one hand, controlling her with only that touch.

It barely took a minute. She rode his hand into the fray, her gaze never turning from his until the instant it claimed her. An orgasm achieved in an instant that rippled over his embedded hand like a languorous dance, caressing and sucking at his fingers so eagerly his dick felt tortured by the need to feel that same connection with her body.

When she passed through the core of it, she fell out the other side in a mass of spent limbs and lost breath. Her head fell forward, her forehead lolling against his shoulder as she shuddered with the aftereffects.

Griff knew he should hold her close and stroke her back to life with care and patience. She deserved at least that. But he found himself unable. His own needs ravaged his every proficiency and left him with only primal wants. He released her so she fell against the wall. He whipped off his shirt and immediately went for the fastening of his jeans.

Erica made a sound that could have been relief or joy, but most definitely signaled acceptance. She reached for his hand. “Come to bed.”

Griff shook his head. The bedroom was at least twenty meters away. “No time. Get down on the floor.”

Her eyes widened, shock and desire glimmering in the chocolate discs. Beyond flowery invitations, Griff pushed his jeans down his legs, allowing his taut cock to at last spring free of the stifling clothing. “I’m as serious as a fucking heart attack, Red. It’s the rug or the wall—you pick.”