Page 87 of Tangled Kisses
But Griffin? God help me, I think I love him.
Panic flares. Standing here, I realize I’m no different from any other woman in this bar. Another one in a long line waiting for my chance.
Griffin doesn’t even glance at her. His gaze stays locked on me, his jaw tensing, shoulders squaring like he’s two seconds from driving his fist through the bar.
“I’m busy,” he grunts, anger edging his words. “Do you mind?”
She mutters something under her breath and sashays off like she’s the one rejecting him.
Griffin doesn’t blink. Doesn’t shift a muscle.
But I do. My chest squeezes tight as I turn and throw my hand up, flagging Jimmy at the other end of the bar.
“Another drink, please.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel, like I’ve been practicing detachment all my life.
“Reese.” Griffin’s voice is a command. His hand closes around my wrist, spinning me before I can retreat. My back collides with the bar, and suddenly I’m caged in by six feet of raw fire and male hunger.
His eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare hide from me.”
I roll my eyes, desperate for levity. “Don’t you ever tire of women pawing at you?”
Griffin exhales, a wry smile crossing his mouth. “A little flirting I can handle. But when some chick interrupts me when I’m withmywoman? That’s a problem.”
The words land like a sucker punch.My woman. The way he says it isn’t casual—it’s a claim. Solid. Certain.
And just like that, I realize I have nothing to fear.
He leans in, voice low, steady. “Truth is, there’s only one woman I want to touch. And I’m hanging by my last shred of sanity because I can’t. Not yet.”
A brittle laugh tumbles out of me. “What’s the holdup?”
He grabs the beer Jimmy sets down, condensation dripping over his hand as he tips it back like he needs the pause, then fixes me with a stare that could melt steel. “Because I want to do it right. Trust me, my dick and I aren’t on speaking terms right now. But you’re worth it.”
My mouth goes dry. I search for something—anything—to say, but the weight in his eyes steals every word from my tongue.I’ve seen flashes of this side of Griffin before, but never like this. Never this raw.
His hand comes up, knuckles grazing my collarbone, a slow test that makes my pulse skip. Then he dips lower, broad and warm, sparks searing through the thin fabric of my dress as his palm closes over my chest. My pulse skips. He trails down, fingers tracing the neckline, skimming over the swell of my breasts like he’s memorizing my curves.
“Did you wear this dress to torture me, belleza?” His voice is hoarse, threaded with hunger. A tug, just enough to slide the strap off my shoulder, and his gaze sharpens. “Blue lace.”
Warmth floods through me. He remembers. And if the desire on his face is anything to go by, he approves of my lingerie choice.
He rumbles low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my skin as he bends closer. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
The strap slides down my shoulder, goosebumps shivering across my skin. He’s everywhere—whiskey and cedar, clean masculine heat—blending with the faint tease of my perfume. His lips graze my jaw, beard scraping in a way that sets every nerve ablaze.
“Griffin—” My voice is a broken whisper.
“Shhh.” His mouth finds my throat, hot and unrelenting, teeth scraping lightly over the frantic beat of my pulse. My head tips back, the sound of my breath filling the space between us.
“I want to talk about fantasies.” His words are pressed into my skin, rough and intimate, making me shudder.
“What fantasies?”
He drags his teeth lower, the edge of a bite softened by his tongue. His hand cups the side of my breast now, thumb brushing the fabric like he’s deliberately testing how close he canget without baring me completely. “The ones that involve you and me.”
“I’m sorry to break it to you,” I murmur, trying for light, though my voice wavers. “I don’t have any fantasies.”
Griffin’s eyes darken into molten lava that makes my breath hitch. His mouth edges into a mischievous smile, like he knows something I don’t.
