Slow Burn(73)

    Tears sprang to my eyes. “Don’t worry about. You’ve been through too much to ever worry about me.”

    “But sometimes when you touch me, I don’t know why, but... it’s like I’m back there again. Like I’m trapped there and it’s all I can see or think or taste or smell and—”

    “You don’t have to ever—”

    “And I don’t want that with you. I don’t want to feel like that with you.”

    “Griffin, please. I won’t ever try to do anything again.”

    He pulled away. “That’s not what I want.”

    I was surprised by the forcefulness of his words. “Okay.”

    He softened. “No, I mean, I want you. I want you to touch me, and I want to enjoy it. I don’t want to give that up.”

    “Of course you don’t,” I said, understanding. “Because then they never stop taking things from you.”

    “Exactly.”

    I caressed his jaw, his cheek. “What do we do, then?”

    He ran a thumb over my cheekbone. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He kissed me. “But you’re the only woman I’ve been able to kiss. I thought I’d never be able to be intimate at all.” He kissed me again. “You chase it away.”

    I clung to him.

    He pawed at my shirt, urgent hands at my skin. “I want to lose myself in your body.”

    I let him.

* * *

    I awoke to the sound of a crash. I struggled to move, but I was tangled in Griffin’s limbs. When we’d gone to sleep, it had been comfortable, but now we were both vaguely sweaty, and the air had gone cold—an unpleasant combination.

    Griffin was awake too. “Did you hear that?” His voice was urgent and quiet.

    “Yes.”

    “Downstairs?”

    “I think so.”

    He pushed aside sweaty sheets and climbed out of bed. Noiselessly, he pulled on a pair of jeans. “Stay here, doll.”

    “Okay.”

    He padded out the door, quiet and lithe.

    I pulled the covers up to my chin and waited.

    Minutes passed. I didn’t hear anything else.

    I couldn’t call out to Griffin, because then I’d give myself away. And there might be someone downstairs. They’d know where I was then. So I had to keep quiet.

    I peered across the room. Outside the window, it was dark, but I could make out water droplets against the glass. It was raining outside.

    Lightning flashed, illuminating the bedroom in brightness for half a second.

    I jumped, startled.

    In the distance, thunder.

    The air was thick and muggy, but frigid. I held the covers tighter.

    Where was Griffin? Shouldn’t he be back by now? Maybe I should go down and check on him.

    But, no. He’d told me to stay put. The last time I hadn’t listened to him, I’d ended up shot.

    But where was he? Why hadn’t he come back?

    I thought of the Op Wraith agents. The silencers on their guns made their gunshots quiet. What if I never heard it at all? They could have shot Griffin as he came down the stairs. They could have already cut his spinal cord.

    He could be dead.

    I clenched my hands in fists, digging my nails into my palms.

    No. Griffin couldn’t be dead.

    But he could. Everyone else I cared about was.

    Should I go and see?

    No. Because if he was dead, they’d be waiting for me. I couldn’t let them get me.

    What defense did I have, though? They’d find me up here at some point. I didn’t even have a weapon up here. I was naked in the bed, wrapped in covers, cringing.

    Lightning flashed again.

    I let out a tiny noise.

    Oops. Had they heard me? I tensed, waiting for someone to come up the steps, gun at the ready.

    Well, I wasn’t going to let them find me naked. I wanted to die clothed, thank you very much. I pushed back the covers and began searching for clothes on the ground.

    It was dark. Griffin hadn’t folded them and put them in a nice pile when he was undressing me. He’d thrown them all over the place. I managed to find my bra and my jeans, but not my underwear or shirt.