Page 91 of The Rookie

Before I can react, he tugs me by the hand, lifts me off the bed, and scoops me into his arms like I weigh nothing.

"Griffin!" I yelp, but the laugh that bubbles out of me is breathless, giddy.

"Shower," he says simply, his eyes flashing as he kicks the bathroom door open.

Steam fills the air almost instantly as he reaches in and cranks the water on hot, the sound of it cascading against the tile drowning out the hammering of my pulse.

He sets me down gently, but before I can even think about stepping back, he’s on me again—crowding me against the counter, his hands on my hips, his mouth on my throat.

“Griffin,” I breathe, tilting my head as his teeth graze my pulse. “We literally just?—”

“And yet,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking against my skin, “you’re still standing here, wet and needy, letting me touch you. Again.”

Fuck.

He’s right.

I should pull away. Tell him we need a break.

But when his hands slide up my stomach, his thumbs brushing my ribs, I shudder. When his mouth captures mine again, I melt.

The second we step under the water, it’s over.

He presses me against the cool tiles, the contrast of heat and cold making me arch against him, and kisses me like he’s trying to consume me whole.

“Griffin—” I moan, but he cuts me off, lifting my leg, hitching it around his waist, his hand gripping firm and demanding.

“I’m going to own you in every way there is, Sinclair,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice so low, so rough, it feels like it slides straight through me.

My jaw drops, and I have no idea whether to laugh or melt into a puddle of embarrassment and arousal. “Griffin, you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” he asks, his grin turning wicked as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “You know you like the idea.”

My breath hitches, my fingers tightening against his shoulders.

I shove him weakly, shaking my head as I try to hide my smile. “You are completely shameless.”

“And you’re impossible to resist,” he counters, his hand sliding up to cup my face, his thumb dragging across my bottom lip.

I pretend to think about it, biting back a smile. “Fine. But only because I believe in helping rookies improve.”

His chest rumbles with laughter, his eyes dark with mischief, and then—he’s kissing me again, deep and all-consuming, pressing me harder against the tile as the water drenches us both.

I barely have a second to react before his hands are on me—everywhere at once.

His fingers trail up my thighs, kneading into my hips, gripping my ass like he needs to claim every inch of me all over again.

The hot water cascades over us, drenching my hair, streaming between us, but I barely notice it over the heat rolling off of him.

One of his hands travels upward, cupping my breast, his thumb rolling over my nipple, teasing, torturing, making me arch against him.

“I could spend all fucking night in here with you,” he growls, dragging his teeth along my jaw, down my neck, sucking just enough to make me shiver.

My head tips back, my nails scraping across his back, my thighs clenching around nothing.

I can barely breathe, can barely think, but his words—his voice, low and dark and full of possession—pull me under like a goddamn undertow.

My brain short-circuiting as he shifts, his hand slipping between my legs, parting me with slow, teasing strokes.

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