He put one hand inside my shirt again, sliding over my skin slowly, his touch a whisper of a caress. His fingers brushed the swell of my breast and traveled higher, inch by inch.
I could hardly breathe. He was so gentle. And it felt so nice.
His fingers grazed my nipple.
Pleasure exploded through me. I moaned.
He kissed me, still exploring my breast, cupping it in one hand.
I writhed against him, arching my back to feel more of him.
“You sure this is okay? I really haven’t—”
“Perfect,” I whispered. And, not wanting to seem greedy, I reached over and grabbed his crotch. He was hard inside his boxers. I wanted—
Griffin grasped my wrist hard. “Stop.” His voice was like slate.
He was crushing my hand. “Ouch?”
He let go of me.
Instantaneously, he was across the tent, leaving me alone under the sleeping bags. “You can’t just—”
“I’m sorry,” I said in a tiny voice. “I thought...”
“I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it.”
Bad idea? But two seconds ago, he’d seemed really into it. He’d called me sweet and soft. And the way he’d kissed me... “You touched me first.”
“You pretended to be cold.”
“Pretended?” Did he really think I could fake spasms like that? He had to be crazy. “I was going to get more blankets. You’re the one who started the snuggling.”
He didn’t respond. He sat there, in the dark, far away from me, and I could still taste him on my lips. “Damn it.”
“Griffin, please.” I knew he wanted me. He couldn’t have faked kisses like those. The way he was touching me, that was the real deal. No one had ever touched me like that.
He was unzipping the tent. “I’ve got to get some air.”
“But—”
“Hopefully, you’re warmer.” He crawled out of the tent and zipped me inside. “Stay here, okay? I won’t be far.”
I lay back on the sleeping bags, pulling the covers tight around me. The residual heat from Griffin’s body meant that it was still pretty warm. I lay awake, waiting for him to come back, but as much as I fought it, eventually, I fell asleep.
Chapter Seven
I awoke sweating. I was swathed in all of the blankets that I’d brought, at least four of them. I was alone in the tent, but I could smell coffee percolating.
I unzipped and tumbled outside.
Griffin already had a fire going. He had rigged up something similar to his contraption for sausage cooking for a coffee percolator, and flames licked the bottom of it. He smiled at me. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I said. So, he was going to pretend like last night had ever happened, huh? Great.
“So, what did Stacey tell us that we should do today?” he asked.
“Hiking,” I said. “She said we have to go look at the falls.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Was it me, or was he being overly cheery?
* * *
“They didn’t just make assassins there,” Griffin said from ahead of me on the trail. “They were really interested in all kinds of ways to kill people.”
“Really?” I said. I didn’t think I was crazy about hiking. Sure everything was pretty out here, but it also all kind of looked the same. Maybe I’d feel differently once I got to the waterfall. I kind of hoped so. That would mean that all of this walking had been worth it.
“Yeah,” he said. “They’re an arms corporation. I mean, did you think they made mannequin arms or something?”
“No,” I said, “but I thought they just made guns.”
“And tanks and chemical warfare too.”
“Chemical warfare? But no one does that anymore. Not since World War I.”
“Well, Dewhurst-McFarland figured that would last only until someone used them again. And then people would use them back. It’s the way war works.”
I made a face. “That’s horrible.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”