Page 5 of Snowed In With the Grump
"Am I?" She looked up at me through her lashes, not moving. "Or are you in mine?"
For a moment, we just stood there...too close...the air gone static, like the moment before lightning hits the top of a dry pine. Dangerous. Crackling. Way too combustible.
Then she stepped back, breaking the spell.
"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'll behave."
I doubted that very much.
The soup came together quickly, despite...or maybe because of...her help. When I handed her a bowl, she took it to the couch and did something that nearly stopped my heart: she moaned at the first taste. It sounded like a sex moan... so fucking erotic it made my cock twitch. I shifted in my seat before she noticed the growing problem in my jeans.
"Oh my god," she said, licking her spoon in a way that should be illegal. "This is amazing."
I sat in my chair, my grip a little too tight on my own bowl. "It's just soup,” I said.
"Just soup? Griffin, this is like... restaurant-quality soup. What else are you hiding under that grumpy exterior? Can you also bake? Paint? Write poetry?"
"Now you’re just being ridiculous,” I told her.
She took another spoonful, making another appreciative sound that went straight to my groin.
"A girl can dream. Speaking of dreams... where am I sleeping tonight?"
I choked on my soup.
"That’s what I thought." She smirked. "One bed?"
"Couch," I managed.
"For you or me?" she asked.
"Me."
She raised an eyebrow. "Such a gentleman. But I’m the guest. I should take the couch."
"Not up for debate, and you’re not a guest.” She raised an eyebrow.“You're a stray. I don't let strays on the furniture,” I told her.
She chuckled.
So. Fucking. Sexy.
“Everything’s up for debate with the right argument,” she said as she set her empty bowl aside and stretched. My shirt rode up to reveal a strip of skin above the waistband of my sweats.
Holy fuck.
She had curves for days.
"But I’ll let you win this one. For now,” I said, when I finally had control of my mouth again.
Christ, it was going to be a long night.
3
Lucy
His bedroom was exactly what I’d expected... spartan but comfortable, with a massive log bed that dominated the space. What I hadn’t expected was how intimate it would feel to be in here, surrounded by his things, about to sleep in his bed.
"Bathroom's yours first," Griffin said from the doorway, keeping his distance like I might bite. Though the way he’d been looking at me during dinner, I wasn’t sure he’d mind if I did.
