Page 21 of Taming Her

Without uttering a word, Griff set Ava on the bed. Her head sank into the soft pillow and he carefully wriggled the duvet from under her. Her dress took only a second to remove after he’d found a side zipper, and he settled her beneath the covers wearing only her thong. Cuffs now off.

Smoothing a few strands of golden hair from her brow, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

What the hell have I let myself in for?

* * *

Ava turned over, pulled the covers to her chin, then opened her eyes. She stared at heavy butter-yellow curtains and tried to figure out where she was. Her heart didn’t race. She didn’t panic. It wasn’t the first time she’d woken up wondering where she was in the last few months. This, however, was different; she hadn’t been roaring drunk the night before.

She pulled in a breath. The scent of coffee filled her nostrils. That was a good sign.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” A deep, familiar voice.

She flipped over, clutching the duvet when she realized it had slipped and exposed her breasts.

Sat with his right ankle balanced on his left knee, wearing black sweats and tight black t-shirt was Griff Dix. PC Griff Dix. He hadn’t shaved and the shadow on his jawline reminded her of how he’d used to look with a dark beard.

She scowled at him.

He took a sip from a steaming white mug and appeared to be holding in a smile.

“Where am I?” She sat, shuffling the pillows with herself. It took a lot of effort not to let the hurt of her father’s text message overwhelm her again.

“You don’t remember?”

She did remember; she was at his house in the middle of nowhere. She nodded at the cafeteria on the nightstand. “I’ll take some of that.”

“Please.”

“Please.” Her scowl deepened.

He leaned forward and poured.

“A dash of hard stuff in it would help.”

“A morning whiskey with your coffee? I don’t think so, Ava.”

“And who made you boss of me?”

“I did.” He handed her the mug, then settled back on his chair. “I made me the boss of you. So you might as well get used to it.”

“Arrogant prick,” she muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” He raised his eyebrows.

Something in his tone had her shrinking a little. “Nothing.”

“Good, because you must remember what happened to your pert little behind last night when you misbehaved.”

She clenched her ass cheeks. The skin on her bum smarted against the sheets.

An image flashed through her brain. Griff holding a black spatula, his expression grim, her stretched and long, her bottom exposed. He’d spanked her soundly. Over and over. She remembered that all right.

“Good.” He half smiled. “If you remember you’ll know that I’m not a man you should displease.”

“I couldn’t care less whether you are pleased or not.” She knocked back a mouthful of coffee, grimaced when she burned her tongue then threw the duvet off.

His eyes widened as his gaze trailed down her body.

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