Pieces For You (20 page)

I drew a fortifying breath and headed back to the den to get Griffin.  His suit jacket, vest, and tie were draped over the arm of the couch, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, sleeves rolled up.  He looked phenomenal.  His eyes traveled the length of me, and the slowness with which he paced his examination made me feel ten feet tall.  He rose from the couch and ambled toward me, but his body held too much tension, contradicting his slow, casual stride.

“This,” he waved his hand to indicate my sleepwear, “is what I imagined you would sleep in, but my imaginings didn’t do you justice.”  He took a step closer.  “Any second thoughts?  You know you can change your mind at any time; I’m content to sleep on the couch.  Are you sure you want to do this, Lo?”

I nodded, suddenly timid.

He took another step. “This is big, sleeping next to someone for the first time.  I don’t want you to be upset or feel guilty if you need to kick me out.  I get it.  Just say the word and I come out here, no questions asked, no apologies needed.  Nothing will change, the way I feel about you won’t change.  Do you understand?”

I nodded again with more conviction.  I believed him…every word.  I extended my hand to him and he closed the remaining distance to take what I offered.  As we entered the bedroom, I released his hand to remove the pillows and turn down the comforter.

“Which side?” he asked softly.

“Do you mind taking the side by the door?  I just—” 

“Absolutely.”

He stepped around me, about to climb into the bed when I noticed he was still in his slacks and dress shirt.  Duh!  He didn’t have any clothes to change into.  Having him wear only his unders was a temptation better left uncourted tonight, but I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable—or so thoroughly covered up.

“Wait.  You can’t sleep in your suit.”

“I’ll be fine, Lo.”

“Let me see if Hunter has any clothes in the dryer.”

I scurried out of the room before he could object.  I found a pair of blue athletic shorts that would work and headed back to my bedroom, anxious and excited.  I “accidentally” forgot to grab a shirt for him.  When I entered, he was surveying my room.  I wondered what he saw.  The calming green of the walls with the dark wood bedroom set was not overtly feminine, but elegant and soothing.  I tossed the shorts at him.  He caught them effortlessly, although I would have sworn he was completely engrossed in his study.

He held up the shorts and nodded to himself in approval.  His eyes returned to mine and he waited expectantly.  If he was looking for a shirt to come sailing through the air next, he would be waiting a long time…like forever.  He raised his eyebrows, questioning.

I mimicked his gesture, but there was a dare in my response.

“I guess I’ll go change,” he said as he moved toward the door. 

I didn’t want him to change in another room.  I wanted him to strip in front of me, exposing himself physically the same way I would be exposing myself emotionally.  There was a strong possibility that I would not make it through the night without incident.  The reality was easier to accept when imagining he too had taken a risk.  And, yes—I wanted to see more of his impeccable body, a fringe benefit.

“Wait!” I said, louder than was necessary in the quiet room.  “You can change here…please.”

“Do you promise to close your eyes?” he teased.

“Hell no.”

He chuckled before muttering something that sounded an awful lot like, ”Glad I didn’t go commando.”  Well, that made one of us.

“You really want me to strip for you?”

I nodded.

“Will it make tonight easier for you?”

I nodded again, although I was sure having a half-naked Griffin in my bed would be a double-edged sword.

He said nothing more.  Holding my gaze, he raised his hands to the first button on his shirt and slowly pushed it through the hole.  He continued releasing every button slowly, revealing more of his muscular chest with each liberation.  His eyes never left me, but mine drifted lower with each newly displayed inch.  When the final button was undone, he flicked the sides of his shirt so it parted widely, bearing his entire upper body for my inspection.  After allowing me several vertical passes, he unrolled each cuff before permitting the shirt to fall down his arms, pooling on the floor.  He stood perfectly still, letting me look my fill and assessing my reaction.  If he was concerned the sight of his shirtless body would be a trigger, he was dead wrong.  The only thing he was triggering currently was my libido.

I realized he was putting on a show for me, pushing himself to disrobe in a way that was enticing and uncharacteristic of a man.  It was my own personal strip show.  No music or cheesy dancing, no gyrations or hip rolls, but it was a performance nonetheless—all to give me what I needed.

His fingers grasped the waist of his suit pants and slowly slid along the top until they met in the middle where he flicked the hidden clasp open.  Unable to feign nonchalance any longer, I trained my stare to his fingers with intense scrutiny.  It’s a wonder his pants didn’t burst into flames.

His fingers pinched the tab of the zipper and he waited…and waited…and waited.  My eyes flew to his, prepared to demand he continue, but my protest died when I saw his knowing smirk.  I heard the first click of the zipper’s teeth.  Bastard!  I was missing it.  Visually swan diving back to the action, I tracked the painfully slow descent of the slider.  He then moved his hands to his hips, allowing his pants to gape open, offering only a hint of black cotton.  This must be how men felt in Regency England when catching a glimpse of ankle.  What was before me was significantly less than a bathing suit would expose, but it felt scandalous.  I nodded to him, hoping to prompt action without shifting my gaze one millimeter.  Finally, his thumbs hooked into the waistband and shoved.  Like magic, the pants were gone and Griffin stepped out of them, freeing his feet. 

He stilled for my inspection, God bless him.  Black boxer briefs molded to his hard thighs and lean waist, revealing an astonishing bulge.  Oh my!

He tried to stifle a laugh but failed.  Oops.  Guess I had said that aloud.

I raised a finger in the air and twirled it, indicating my desire to review his backside.

He complied immediately, presenting himself shamelessly.  His back was a sight to behold, the breadth of his shoulders greater than the span of my arms elbow to elbow, tapering down to a trim waist.  The highlight—by far—was his glorious ass, twin globes of firm muscle that reminded me of ripe honeydew melon halves, and I
loved
honeydew.

Compelled by a longing stronger than any I’d ever experienced, I walked to him silently.  I skimmed the tips of my fingers across his shoulders, between his shoulder blades, down his middle back, and over the diamond indent of his lower back until I reached the waistband of his boxer briefs.  I followed their path horizontally across his body, around his sides, and across his ripped abdomen, stopping when my fingertips touched and my arms were wrapped around him.  I flattened my palms against his stomach and slid them upward, settling them beneath his pecs, over his heart.  I laid my head against his back and listened to his ragged breaths.  His hands rose to cover my own, warmth seeping into my body at every point we touched.  Something was happening that I couldn’t explain.  We were communicating without words, connecting on the deepest level possible—soul deep, heart deep.  We stood like that for long minutes, unmoving.

I was preparing myself to release him when he turned and swept an arm beneath my knees, lifting me off my feet.  My arms automatically ringed his neck as he carried me to the bed and laid me down gently, tucking my legs beneath the comforter before pulling it up to cover my shoulders.  He then walked toward my door and shut off the light before returning to the side of the bed.  After a deep breath, he slipped in, close enough that I could feel his body heat, but not touching.  I knew this was for my benefit, but it hurt—I wanted him to touch me without concern plaguing him.  I wanted to feel his bare flesh against mine.  I craved this man, a growing need that teetered on the edge of irrational. 

I rolled toward him, landing with my leg draped over his and snuggled myself into his side with my hand on his chest.  I tilted my head back to look at him, his masculine beauty stark in the soft moonlight.

I moistened my lips and watched as he unconsciously did the same.

“Kiss me,” I invited softly.

He curled his arm, raising me partially onto his chest and guided my lips to his.  This kiss was different than any we had shared before.  It was passionate and seductive.  Griffin had been holding out on me, and I would have to remember to be peeved about that tomorrow because I was entirely too busy to be concerned about it in the present.  His lips and tongue explored mine with expertise.  The man didn’t kiss, he possessed and devoured.

I entwined my tiny fingers with his as my leg twisted around him, trapping him.  I wanted more contact; I was quickly becoming addicted to his taste and touch.  His muffled groan was the first clue of what I was doing.  Self-awareness dawned slowly—I was languidly rocking myself against him, my body instinctively seeking stimulus.  I gasped, shocked by my mindless actions and impulse to continue.  And living in the moment, I did.  I rotated and rocked my hips against him until I was panting, so close but not able to fall over the edge.  He never stopped kissing me or caressing my back, but his hands remained in the ‘safe’ zone—not where I
needed
them.

I pulled back enough to catch his eye, knowing he would need to see my sincerity.

“Touch me, please.  I can’t…I need you to get there, I can’t do it on my own.”

He read the truth in my eyes, in my body.  Without further discussion, he rolled us so I was on my back pressed against him while he lay on his side, his elbow cradling my head.  His fingers traced my face tenderly before continuing to follow the outline of my lips.  The calloused tips blazed a trail down my neck and between my breasts, where they paused as if debating an unplanned visit.  I raised my hips, telling him wordlessly where I needed him.

The journey resumed, making a loop around my bellybutton before stopping an inch above where I wanted him.  My chemise and panties diluted the potency of his touch as he teased me, drawing shapes and tracing the line of my pantie.  Growing restless, I spread my thighs further apart, the equivalent of a written invitation by bedroom standards.

“Patience, Lo,” he whispered into my ear as he nibbled the sensitive lobe.

He was asking for something I could no longer give.  Desperate to spur him onward, I grabbed his wrist and forced his hand lower.  Ah, yes, there…I needed him there.  His skilled fingers strummed me like a guitar, causing me to moan appreciatively.  I rocked with his rhythm seeking more pressure, which he immediately granted.  He took my mouth, demanding everything, giving the same in return.  I was so damn close, but the thin barrier of silk was in the way.  I pulled my hands from his hair and grabbed the thin lace at my hips, pulling until a tear echoed through the room.  Skin met skin and I sighed happily.  He proceeded to prove that his skills with a guitar translated to other more carnal pursuits and I loved every minute of it—but still I couldn’t get
there
.

“More.  I need more,” I said in frustration.

“Lo baby, relax.  It’ll happen, just let it be.”

“More…please,” I begged pitifully, desperate for release and proof I was not permanently broken.

He captured my mouth with unparalleled seduction as he slid his fingers lower and entered me easily.  I moaned loudly, lucky his mouth trapped the sound.

Within seconds I was skating on the razor thin edge, my hips moving erratically, controlled only by the pressure of his palm against my clit and his fingers exploring me.  And then it happened…I fell over the edge, plummeting into a sea of electricity, wave after wave crashing over me.  The release was as emotional as it was physical.  Tears of joy and relief coursed down my cheeks as sounds of pleasure slipped from my lips.  He coaxed every last wave of bliss from me until every muscle in my body had contracted countless times.

When I was spent and limp, he rolled to his back, taking me with him and settling me on his chest.  His arms wrapped around me, cuddling tenderly.  He kissed the top of my head repeatedly while stroking my back soothingly.

“You,” I said, suddenly aware of what must be a very painful situation.

“Are content to hold you like this for the rest of the night,” he said.

“But—”

“No, I’m good.  Watching you find it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.  To be the one who brought you there was fucking amazing.”

I was ready…I wanted to touch him, to see him lose himself the way I had.  I made several attempts to reciprocate, but the wily fox would break out a new trick to distract me until I could no longer think, only feel, leaving him forgotten.  But I was determined to take the next step—it was time for me to make a new friend and offer a hands-on ‘how do ya do.’

I kissed him while stroking his chest, shoulders, face—anywhere I could get my hands except my ultimate goal—until he was lost in my ministrations.  I could taste victory.

Not giving him time to think, I snaked my hand beneath the elastic waistband that served as the boundary to our previous no-go zone and took hold of my target.  Mother of…I couldn’t wrap my tiny hand all the way around him.  I’ll give him this, the man was proportional; huge in every sense of the word.  Undeterred, I firmed my grip and stroked him purposefully, causing him to groan into my mouth.  He pressed his head further into the mattress to gain the space necessary to speak.

“Lo baby, you don’t have to—”

I ignored him, continuing my up-down slide, increasing the speed and pressure based on his response to find the perfect stroke.  My mouth traveled to his ear, a spot I discovered drove him wild, and sucked his lobe between my lips, gently biting and teasing.

“But I want to.  Give me what I want, Griff,” I whispered into his ear seductively.

His entire body shuddered, his response unintelligible thanks to the addition of my free hand.