Taming McGruff (Book 3, Once Upon A Romance Series) (13 page)

Her gasp, followed by a chuckle and her swatting his arm, convinced him he’d said the right thing. “You are so bad. It wasn’t like that and you know it.”

“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

“Why, Griffin James, you’re trying to be funny.”

“It’s a natural gift.”

They both laughed at the absurdity of that.

“Ready?” he asked, standing in the darkened doorway of his study.

“I think so.”

Griff reached out and flicked on the stark overhead light. He watched her face.

“No way,” she said, putting her hands over her mouth. “A pink chair?”

“And ottoman.”

Rushing to it, she asked, “Is it mine?” She brushed the back of it and looked up at him as he strolled toward her.

“Well, Pixie, it isn’t mine. Pink’s not my color.”

Priscilla went to him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him close. “Griff, how did you know? It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you so much.”

Griff held her tightly, picking her up off the floor. He stared into her eyes. Warmth and something more shone there. It was his turn to gasp. “Since you’ll be living here now, I thought you’d need your own chair in my study.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “You are such a surprise, Mr. James. I’m a little sad to see my McGruff leave, though.”

“Oh, he’s still there.”
More than you’ll ever realize
.

***

Less than an hour later, Griff lay back against the pile of pillows on his bed. In the bathroom, Priscilla got ready, turning on every knob and gadget in the room, he imagined, as he heard them come on and go off at intervals.

Finally, she opened the door, already having shut the light off. But in the moonlight from the window, he made out her outline in the short, revealing, shimmery nightgown. She scurried across the room and, lifting the covers, jumped into his king-sized bed, clinging to the farthest edge away from him.

“You’re naked?!” she choked out.

“That’s how I always sleep.”

Her soft moan didn’t help his own condition.

Griff closed his eyes and counted to ten, knowing he went against every desire pulsating through his body at the moment. “Lady’s choice.” He wouldn’t pressure her.

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Yes,” he said between gritted teeth. His jaw ached with the effort.

“That’s so sweet.” She turned to him, still feet away. “Don’t you want me?”

He groaned. “Yes, I want you.”
So much and so badly it hurts
. But he couldn’t tell her that, couldn’t frighten her any more than she already was.

“Oh,” she said, “that’s good to know.”

His chuckle came out raw. “Was there a doubt?”

“Just checking.” Her voice grew nearer as she inched closer. “I’m new at this.”

Griff couldn’t stop his grin; that was an understatement. “Explore, if you want.” How much could he take, though? “But, be warned, there will be a point when you’ll either have to stop altogether or go on. I’m not a machine.”

“I never thought you were,” she whispered, scooting toward him. “I’ll be gentle.”

Her giggle and warm breath brushed over his flesh. He bit down on another groan.

Priscilla moved closer still. “May I?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but just rested her head against his chest. Her sigh echoed through him. Her soft hair tickled. “Heaven,” she whispered in the dark, and then tentatively ran her hand along his side and over his middle, resting her hand there.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Maybe this was the wrong decision. He clamped down on his growing desire, keeping it in check for her sake.

“You can put your arm around me,” she offered, snuggling close, her body curving into his.

With great care, Griff shifted, holding her to his side. He swallowed. Her soft skin and silky nightie made him moan.

“Like that?” she asked, turning her head to gaze up at him.

He murmured, unable to say a word; his tamped-down desire would surely scare her if he unleashed it now.

Priscilla leaned down, placing a tender kiss on his chest, and then, moving slightly, placed another on his skin, and another… She continued. Her soft lips trailed a hot path of flames. Easing upward, she kissed his chin, and then cheek, all the while unaware she was nearly on top of him. Her sexy curves pressed into his torso. “May I kiss you?”

“You mean you haven’t been?”

“Your lips.” Before he could answer, she brushed hers against his, and then dipped her tongue along his lips, slicing them open to join him in a hot, sensual kiss.

He gripped her to him, sliding his other hand through her soft hair, down her back, and cupped her perfect round bottom. This time, she groaned.

When she broke the embrace, he let her. “Can I explore more?”

Nodding, he gave her permission. He lay back, allowing her full access.

But she stretched out, trying to feather kisses along his other side.

“Here, like this.” He guided her, lifting her by the waist and settling her down on top of him, sitting astride his bare upper thighs. He pulsated against the silky nightie she still wore.

Her sharp gasp pierced the air. “Griff!”

“Explore, Pixie,” he invited.

It didn’t take her very long to recover from her shock; she trailed her hands over his chest and down his middle and over his abdomen. Flames licked everywhere she touched. Bolder now, she followed with her lips, knowingly stroking him with the silk fabric along the length of him. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, planting kisses along his jagged scar.

His breath caught. No one had wanted to see the ugly wound, never mind kiss it. Something in his chest splintered. No, he couldn’t let her come in and just decimate his well-protected fortress. Too late, his mind jeered.

He let her continue until she’d had her fill. She sat up now. “What do I do next?”

A bolt of desire lanced through him. Sitting up, he faced her; he trailed his hands over her tiny waist and gripped her hips, settling her against his hardness. Only a thin piece of silk separated them. Her soft gasp feathered over his lips.

“There’s a difference between making love
with
someone or
to
someone.”

“What’s that?”

“Give and take. Now it’s time for you to receive.”

Priscilla shivered in his arms.

He trailed kisses over her jaw, down her neck, and then over her shoulder. Griff eased the thin strap off her. It dropped away, revealing the upper curve of her breast. “Arch your head back,” he suggested. When she did, he feathered kisses along her skin and along the plumpness of her cleavage, licking the flesh there.

Her shallow breaths spurred him on. Griff repeated his actions with the other strap. When it slid down her arm, the silky fabric fell, caught only by her taut nipples. Through the material, he traced the outline with his thumb.

Priscilla gasped, her body jerking. He pulsed between her legs and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Again,” she whispered. Her soft command made his body respond, thumping against the junction. She squeezed her legs, attempting to tuck the length of him closer.

Griff moaned. He tugged the silk down. It slid along her body and pooled at her hips. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Beautiful,” he murmured. He cupped her left breast in his palm and lowered his mouth. When he licked the hard nub, she jerked in response. He showered her with kisses and suckled on her.

***

She grasped his head close. “Griff,” she choked out as another bolt of electricity shot from where his mouth settled to the ache growing in intensity between her legs.

He continued his sweet torture, giving both of her breasts attention. His big hands caressed her, sliding from her waist to her back, and then her bottom, now to her legs. He worked his thumbs over her inner thighs, growing closer to where she pulsated. The slightly roughened skin on the pads of his thumbs only stirred swirls of desire low and deep in her middle.

Anticipation gathered as he drew near. Impatient, she pulled at the nightie, skimming it up her body and over her head. “In the way,” she murmured, tossing it to the bed. “Kiss me,” she half asked, half commanded.

“My pleasure.”

His low, deep voice strummed through her. In the middle of his kiss, she inched her hips closer to him still and gasped as his hot, hard, long flesh throbbed against her. “Griff! Why does it feel good and hurt at the same time?”

“It’s supposed to. Agony and ecstasy,” he said, now drawing his thumb closer to her. He brushed it over her.

Priscilla’s body jerked. She moaned.

“Again?”

“Yes,” she barely answered. “More.”

He did, with a light touch. Griffin groaned. “Sweet Jesus, you’re so wet.”

His passion fueled hers. His hands touched, caressed, and slid over her.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

Opening her eyes, she stared into his desire-filled gray eyes. His thumb stroked her, dipped inside and returned to tease her. Her pants filled the air. His gaze mesmerized hers as his hands worked magic. Desire swirled, building, then eased, and then built again. He’d had her aching, the pain and pleasure growing inside. “Griffin?”

“Almost there,” he promised.

Just as he said the words, she felt it—the sweet, agonizing explosion. She moaned, loud and long. Heat and white light collided and rained down in and through and all around her.

If he hadn’t been holding her, she’d surely have fallen.

She couldn’t have known how long he held her or when she sagged against him, but all she knew was his arms sheltered her, allowing her to fly and float, and then return to Earth again.

With her head resting on his good shoulder, Priscilla became aware again. His thick hardness still jumped against her, thumping and bringing her desire back to life. She kissed him, trailing her lips over his flesh, up his neck, along his jaw and finally to his waiting lips. “Show me. How do I give to you?”

He groaned against her lips, the vibration making her insides tumble all over again. Gently, he shifted her off him and to her back. He followed, covering her. He paused. “It might hurt, for a little while.”

Her heart turned over; he was still trying to protect her. “It hurts now. It hurts to want you and not know what it feels like to have you inside me.”

His moan echoed through her. Nudging her legs wider, he guided himself into her. He eased in. The fullness of him shocked her, but she tugged at his waist, drawing him in even when it stung. She sucked in a sharp breath and held it, squeezing her eyes shut. He stilled, raining kisses over her face.

The pain eased. “It’s all right now,” she whispered.

He throbbed inside her, fueling the licks of desire reaching out inside her again. They spread when he moved his hips. He coaxed her to join him, teaching her how to move with him in a slow, sensual dance. Their hot breaths mingled as their bodies clung together. His strokes—long, slow, and deep now— caused heat to gather, the flames spreading the fire to encompass her.

“Griff,” she moaned out his name as another wave approached.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said. “Fly with me.”

Priscilla put her legs around him and hugged him close as he sped up. She clung to him, rising higher and higher. Then just as he arched his back and groaned deeply, she burst into white, hot flames, flying high. He joined her.

She had no idea how much time passed, but she was in his arms again, Griff tucking her close to his side. “Damn, Pixie,” he murmured with a smile in his voice. “I never knew what it was like to fly that high.”

Priscilla smiled, a secret thrill rushing through her. “I like give and take,” she said, recalling his explanation for making love to or with someone.

She dozed off to the sound of his soft chuckle rumbling beneath her ear. If she had known how delicious this felt, she’d have agreed to marry him much sooner.

Priscilla padded barefoot into his kitchen, hitching up the shoulder of his white shirt she wore. It came down almost to her knees. His scent, still embedded in the fabric, teased her senses. Another low ache hummed through her depleted body.

Griff strolled in behind her, clad only in his jeans. She looked away, because all she wanted to do was touch him, all over, again.

“I’m starving. I was so nervous all day I couldn’t eat,” she said, yanking open the refrigerator door. Only a few things were there. “Do you cook?”

“The basics. You?”

“Nothing. I can barely boil water.”

“Quite a pair,” he murmured, shaking his head. He nodded to the contents. “There’s bread and cheese. Grilled cheese?”

“Sounds good to me.” She handed him the items.

“Butter’s on the door.”

The simple domestic activities heightened her awareness of him. His fingers brushed hers as she handed him the ingredients. His hot stare shafted through her. And, when she followed his directions where to find plates, she bumped into him. Reaching out, he steadied her, but not before she put her palms on his bare flesh. His swift intake of breath matched hers.

She never knew the effect she could have on someone or they could have on her. “Griff,” she whispered.

“Do you know how damn sexy you look in my shirt?”

“Do you realize how damn sexy you are without one on?”

“I want you.” His voice, low and deep, drummed an invisible chord in her middle. “Again.”

Standing on tip-toe, she placed a soft, gentle kiss on his lips, lingering there. “What’s stopping you?”

He groaned. “Pixie.” His hands came around her waist, lifting her. Priscilla grabbed onto his shoulders. “Wrap your legs around me.”

Without hesitation, she did. “I like when you tell me that.”

Griff held her with little effort, and then carried her backwards until he put her down on the counter, still connected. “There’s something else you should know.”

“What’s that?” she asked, watching the hypnotic way his lips moved.

“There are different kinds of lovemaking. Slow and long—”

“Like we just did.” She swallowed. “Or what? Fast?”