Page 122 of Repairing the Wreckage

The numbness I’ve felt ever since Griff left me finally burns away, leaving me wound tight and dying to release the unbearable tension at my core.

His gaze drifts to the little red triangle of material between my thighs. He squeezes my hip, then slides his hand between my legs. I shift my feet apart, giving him room.

He groans a short, appreciative sound and strokes one thick finger over the damp fabric barely concealing me. My breath stutters. How does such a simple touch—over my panties—feel so good?

“You’re so hot and wet,” he whispers, his palm pressing and covering me.

“For you.”

That seems to unlock his slow exploration. He slides one finger up to tease and rub over my most sensitive spot. I gasp and squeeze my eyes shut. My hand shoots out, bracing myself against his shoulder.

“That’s it. Hold onto me.”

I slide my hand lower and curl my fingers around his bicep.

“Open your legs a little more for me,” he demands.

I can’t comply fast enough.

“That’s it.”

“Griff?”

“Shhh. Give me this.” His touch turns harder, more focused. He presses a second finger over my clit, slowly increasing the pressure of the circles he keeps swirling. Time spins and stretches. My need grows.

Ripples of pleasure pulse through my body. Building and building. “Griff,” I gasp, not sure I can stand on my own two feet much longer.

A rush of liquid heat gathers at my core.

His gaze stays transfixed to where he’s touching me. The direction of his strokes changes, sharpening the pleasure. He presses harder, moving faster. I whimper and grind myself against his hand.

“Yes,” he encourages.

Pressure continues to build. So intense, I can’t breathe. I want him to rip my panties off so I can feel his skin on mine, but I’ll die if he stops—even for a few precious seconds.

“Please…don’t…stop,” I beg.

“I won’t.” Need that matches my own roughens his voice.

My thoughts swirl into the tornado of desire spiraling inside me. I dig my fingers into his arm, holding on for dear life.

“Griff…I…”

“Yes. Be my good girl and come on my fingers.”

Heat explodes over my skin. Oh my God. If he called me that under any other circumstance, I’d be furious. Instead my body trembles from his husky whisper urging me to be his good girl. My body bows forward, shaking violently, and I grasp his other arm.

Intense pleasure curls my toes. My legs wobble. I open my mouth, but only garbled sounds scrape against my throat.

“That’s it,” Griff praises.

I’m coming…and coming. Then suddenly, it’s too much.

“Ack!” I jerk my body away from his hand and dance on my tiptoes. “That was intense.”

“Come here.” He wraps his hand in my ponytail and tugs me closer. “Kiss me.”

I drop my gaze to his cock straining against his flannel pants. “I don’t think I can get close enough.”

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