Slow Burn(43)

    He laughed, looking embarrassed. “That’s nice of you to say, but that’s not...” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground.

    I waited, watching him. He didn’t say anything. I touched his arm. “Griffin, you can talk to me.”

    He shook his head. “That’s the thing, doll, I can’t. I want to, but I don’t...”

    I wished I knew how to reassure him. But I didn’t know what was wrong. “I don’t think you should worry about my dad. My dad’s dead, and the way I figure it, he owes me more than I owe him. And I like you, Griffin. A whole lot. It’s big, and I never felt anything quite like it...” It was my turn not to finish and to seem embarrassed.

    “It’s not about your dad.”

    I bit my lip. “Then because you think you’ll get distracted?”

    He rubbed the top of his head. “Well, I do worry about that. I mean, doll, you’re kind of distracting.”

    I couldn’t help but smile. “You really think so?”

    “You looked in the mirror lately?”

    My smile widened.

    He touched my cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.”

    I couldn’t look at him, and I couldn’t stop smiling. “You can’t say stuff like that and then tell me we can’t do anything because you’ll be distracted.”

    He groaned. “Damn it, I’m already distracted.”

    I moved closer, looked up at him. “So, then what’s the problem?”

    He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Someone like you, you deserve it all to be right, to be good. And I’m messed up. I’m gonna disappoint you.”

    “How do you know that?” I said. “You’re amazing, Griffin. You’re strong and deadly, and you’ve been through so much.”

    “Going through stuff changes you. I won’t ever be what you need.”

    “That isn’t true,” I said. “At the very least, I should get to decide that myself.” I kissed him. Not one of the intense, passionate kisses we’d shared in the darkness last night, but just a quick, soft pressing of my lips on his.

    He grabbed me, pulling me close. He kissed me again, harder and longer this time. “Look, maybe if we just took things slow.”

    My eyes were closed. I was still reveling in the aftermath of his kiss. “Slow?”

    “Yeah,” he said. “Like we could work up to certain things. You know?”

    I opened my eyes. “I can do that.”

    “Yeah?” He looked so hopeful.

    “Yeah,” I said.

    “Well, then, maybe I can too.” He crushed me against him and kissed me again, teasing his tongue into my mouth. I clung to him for dear life. The water crashed over rocks behind us, spraying up in little white bursts, hurrying over stones, frothing and brilliant. And I kissed Griffin until all I knew was the sound of the water and the feel of his body.

* * *

    “So what’s slow mean?” I murmured into Griffin’s mouth. We were lying in our tent. He was lying on top of me, my shirt was pushed all the way up, and his hands were assailing my breasts. “Because this—” I gasped. “Doesn’t seem so slow.”

    He laughed low and deep. He was pressed against me, and I could feel his laughter vibrate through me. He kissed my eyebrow. “This is slow. It’s, you know, above the waist stuff.”

    I giggled. “Oh, so that’s the definition, then. Slow means above the waist.”

    “It can,” he said. He ran a finger over my nipple.

    My breath caught in my throat.

    “I could have sworn you were enjoying it,” he said.

    “You could say that,” I said.

    He growled. “If you can still speak, I’m not doing it well enough.” He lowered his head and captured my nipple in his mouth.

    I groaned.

    His other hand found the breast he wasn’t suckling, and I was lost in sensation. I felt like I was floating in a sea of pink perfection. Each touch, each caress pushed me further into this world of pleasure. I closed my eyes and surrendered to it.