Page 66 of Greed
A moan escaped her and she writhed, sensitized nipples hardening against his body. She wanted to reach for him—to touch him beneath his leather—to feel that power rippling beneath her fingertips, to relish in his silky skin… but he wouldn’t let go.
A flicker of doubt flashed again, but she pushed it away.
He wasn’t Donnie. He was a hero.
She wanted this,right?
Those lips hit her own and his salty tongue pushed in, drugging her with his taste. All reason fled as they kissed as though the world was on fire.
Chapter Twenty
From the moment Griffin tasted Lilo’s sweet mouth, he was utterly gone, intoxicated. She was safe in his arms. Better than safe. Alive, responsive, moaning and kissing him back. God, she tasted nothing like bubblegum today. She tasted like some exquisite delight made just for him.
Everything tingled. It was almost too much. Almost painful.
What had he been thinking to deny this?
“You taste like you were made for me,” he murmured into her mouth.
She sighed and tugged on her wrists, but he couldn’t let her free.
It was more than his sensitivities. With her, he knew he could work through that, but he couldn’t let his secret out. Evan and Grace made it work through honesty, but Grace wasn’t a reporter. Griffin didn't know Lilo well enough to trust she wouldn’t share that information with the world. The collage-board at her desk had question marks over some of their photos. Question marks, and hearts, and kisses.
Somewhere, deep inside, he also knew that she had no idea it was him, yet she was giving herself to a stranger… he felt betrayed, and it made no sense.
But he wanted her.
She whined in frustration. “Let me touch you.”
He kissed her again, and trailed a finger along her cheek, over her jaw, and the line of a vein in her neck. When she shivered, he knew he’d found an erogenous zone, so dipped to explore with his tongue, licking and tasting, still not believing what a fool he’d been to keep her at arm’s length.
When he was done with that zone, he hunted for another, relishing in her mewling sounds of desire. She tasted like woman. Pure and raw and it hit him in the groin every time he licked, making him hard with hunger. His tongue went lower, under her collar, edging toward the soft pillows of her breasts.
He needed more access.
As if reading his mind, she arched toward him and for a moment, his mind emptied. The knit top clung to her shape like an erotic embrace. It would bend if he wanted, or it would shift to make way for his fingers, and then it would hold the two of them together—hand on breast, fingers to pink nipple. His erection pulsed painfully, wanting more, so he thrust, and the sensation rode over him like a wave.
She moaned and he may have too, but his mind was befuddled. He had to process. He stood back and let go.
“Why have you stopped?” she asked, panting, impatient.
“Because I’m looking at you.”
“Do you like what you see?”
He saw a woman sculptured from perfection.
A low, heated rumble was all he could manage, and then: “How could I not? You have the shape of a goddess.”
He must have said the right thing because she lunged forward.
“No,” his raspy voice whispered as he held her once again firm against the wall. “No touching.”
A frustrated moan whined from her.
“Let me do this for you.” He kissed her. “Let me make you feel good.”
He stretched her top at the neck to reveal a dark, lacy bra. He pulled that aside, releasing her from the lacy confines.
