Asking For It (25 page)

He'd maneuvered her into the situation, but she intended to use it to her own advantage. She would show him — tonight, and as often as needed — that this was a strictly physical affair. Her emotions would never be involved.

Griffith stepped out from under the oak tree. Legs apart, arms crossed, he looked as if he were barely holding himself back from ravishing her.

Kate's legs weakened. She thought she might like to be ravished by Griffith. She thought she might adore it.

Lord, it had been too long. Oh, yes, she'd had sex the night before, but in general, she'd left this kind of activity out of her life for far too long.

Perhaps that's all that was going on here. A sudden release from physical deprivation. She was like a starving woman gobbling a feast set before her. Gourmet meal? Bah. Kate was ready to gorge at McDonald's.

"Kate," Griffith said.

Strange, what physical desire could do, Kate thought as she continued toward him. From his lips, her name sounded like a song. Kate didn't dare try to say anything. Who knew what it might sound like? She simply walked up to him and let his arms close around her.

It was as if a hive of sweet-tempered bees, warm and buzzing, suddenly surrounded her. Kate lifted her face.

Griffith's mouth came down on hers. With very little effort he coaxed her lips apart. Then his tongue swooped over hers.

The buzzing bees were inside Kate now, teasing her with need. She wriggled against Griffith, delighting in the hard resistance of his male body, approving the stiff length of him poking her belly.

"Kate," Griffith said again. It was strange, and disconcerting, that it still sounded like a song.

He pulled her under the shelter of the tree and then he was slipping his hand under her shirt. That was more like it.

Kate pressed close to him as he unhooked her bra. The physical stuff, right, that's what she wanted.

But when his clever fingers connected with her breasts, the sensation was so powerful it made her spasm.

"Kate?"

Out of his arms now, her heart stumbling all over itself, Kate smiled and wagged a finger at him. "Oh, no, you don't."

"I don't what?"

Her heart was still racing. That had been a close one. Unexpected. Who'd have guessed that Griffith's hands on her breasts could make her feel...gooey inside?

Clearly, Kate was going to have to take control here, even of the physical stuff.

"
Your
clothes are coming off first, mister."

Griffith raised a pair of interested eyebrows. "Is that right?"

"It is." She flipped up the hem of his over-long T-shirt so she could get at his pants.

Griffith's lips were a smug curve as she tugged on his belt. "I'm not sure I mind this."

"Did I say you had to?" Kate sprang open the top button of his fly.

"No, but — "

Making sure she edged her descending hand against his bulging erection, Kate unfastened the rest of his fly.

Griffith hissed in a breath through his teeth.

Kate smiled. Yes, this was better. Keeping it purely physical, and herself in charge. She edged her fingers under the waistband of both his jeans and his boxers, and shoved down.

"Oh, man! Take it easy there."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, but — Hey, Kate..." Griffith's voice slid to a nervous chuckle as Kate lowered herself with his pants, pushing them all the way to the ground.

"Don't move," Kate said.

"I'm not going anywhere." He couldn't, anyway, not with his ankles tethered by his pants. Nor did Kate think he'd want to remove himself when she was kneeling on the blanket in front of him, her face inches from his eager member.

"Um...Kate?"

For answer she touched him. She liked the swollen springiness and the vibrant veins snaking irregularly over the surface of his skin here. She smoothed a finger down his length of silky skin.

"Kate," Griffith said again. His muscles shifted under the thick, masculine curls on his legs.

"I like the way you feel." Kate curved her fingers around him and performed an experimental caress.

"
Kate
." His hands landed on her head. "I don't think... Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"Why not?" She moved her fingers up and down his erection. "I'm enjoying myself. So are you. And it's what you did for me last night, remember?" She even liked his smell, the musky sex scent of him.

"Yes, but — " A strangled sound emerged from his throat as Kate tested his taste, the tip of her tongue at the tip of him. "No," he said firmly, and pushed at her head.

"Yes," Kate said, and gave his tip a good, strong lick.

"Kate!" His fingers now tangled in her hair. "I can't do this. I mean, I'd like to believe I'm a trooper, tough as steel and all that, but if you do any more — well, I'm not going to have anything left for you, hon."

Kate glanced up at him through the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. He looked like a man torn between his ego and his lust. "You'll have something left." She kept a good hold of his cock.

"I won't."

"You did last night."

"I did? Oh." A grin broke out over the conflict on his face. "Right, I did. But...you can't hold me to that. It was — you know, first time, extraordinary excitement. I couldn't possibly maintain that standard."

Kate smiled up at him. "Why don't we try you and see?"

"Kate. No — " What Griffith said next was more a garbled cry than words, for Kate had slipped the entire length of him into her mouth. "At least let me — I'm going to fall," he managed to get out, and actually stumbled as Kate slid him out of her mouth.

"Grab the branch above you," Kate recommended, and started a rhythm. She'd been right, he did taste good, like he smelled, all musk and man and sex.

Griffith groaned and grabbed the branch of the tree above his head. Kate's lips curved even as she continued to savor the size and taste of him.

She was definitely in control now.

Or was she?

His muttered praise, curses, and dire predictions made her want to laugh — and filled her chest with the oddest warmth. Oh, yes, with her mouth and her hands she had him completely in her power. She could make his strong male body jerk and stiffen. She could make him stand and receive everything she wanted to give him.

But why did she so urgently want to give him everything? She wanted him to have the thrust of need, the tease of anticipation, the building glow of pleasure. Every physical delight a man could want. And...and...even more...

"This isn't going to — You're not — I can't — " Griffith was starting to break. Kate wanted him to break. She wanted him to completely lose control, in her hands. She wanted to give and have and be. She sped her beats, trying to stay ahead of the feelings. Trying to keep this physical.

"Kate! Oh, please. Don't do this, I'm begging — " But his body wanted her to do it; his body was pumping in time to Kate's activity, wanting, needing. Yes, his body, just the physical.

His hoarse shout preceded the milky seed spurting out of him by a split second. With a strange lightness in her chest, Kate pulled back and scooped the foamy stuff in her hands; it felt like life itself. Of course it did. Griffith exuded life, vitality, the energy of being. And this was his seed.
Him
.

With her chest as light and full as the sky, Kate closed her eyes, only to have Griffith drop to his knees and, taking her with him, tumble them both to the blanket.

Suddenly entwined with him, surrounded and infused with his bulk, his heat, his essence, Kate's heart seemed to swell until it enclosed both herself and him within one large, vulnerable shell. She clung back.

It was only slowly, slowly, that she realized where she was, what was happening — how far off her intended road she'd strayed.

Damn! Her fingers dug into his shirt. This wasn't supposed to have happened. She'd chosen the most basic, physical pleasure to give him, something that wouldn't even involve her own sexual need. But here she was, rolled all together with him...
lost
.

"Kate," Griffith whispered, barely a sound.

Kate went perfectly still.

"Kate," he said again, and hugged her closer.

Kate was barely breathing. Griffith was shuddering violently. But the way he'd said her name just then...as if he hadn't wanted to say her name like that, but hadn't been able to stop himself. In the midst of her confusion and distress, she heard that.

"Kate, Kate, Kate." Griffith was holding her much too tightly, but Kate hardly noticed.

Frowning, she said, "Griffith?"

He kept his tight hold, shuddering against her.

"Griffith?" Kate said again. "Let me see your face."

He shook his head vigorously against the blanket.

Kate frowned over his mussed hair. Why wouldn't he let her see his face? Surely that didn't mean — ? She looked down at the tiny crescent of cheek visible beside Griffith's ear. Did that mean that he was affected, too? Was he lost, like she was? Were they
together
in this madness?

Very carefully, as if she might set off something explosive by doing so, she sifted her fingers through Griffith's hair. He squeezed her closer, and tucked his nose beneath her neck.

Kate felt something inside of her crack. Inside the something was a tiny drop of excitement, and a huge load of alarm. This was not merely physical — not for her, or for him. They'd been kidding themselves. More was involved here, higher stakes.

With a deep sigh, Griffith managed to squeeze her even tighter.

Carefully, Kate ran her fingers through his hair some more. She began to shudder, herself. "Oh, Griffith," she whispered, and was very afraid that it sounded like a song.

~~~

That night Griffith's idea about maybe not building Wildwood went from vague and fuzzy to sharp and clear. The notion swirled and clarified sometime between climaxing thanks to Kate's sweet mouth and doing so again in her hot channel. Afterward, close beside Kate on the blanket, his hand smoothing over and over her skin, Griffith wondered how he ever could have imagined sending bulldozers up this mountain. This was too — This was so —

Griffith rose on one elbow the better to view his lover. Not building Wildwood would cost him upwards of five million dollars in lost profit, it would raise seriously disturbed eyebrows among his business associates, but at that moment looking down into Kate's sweet face, he thought killing the project could well open up a new and splendorous world.

"Kate," he said, and ran his palm down her arm. He needed to touch her, to see her, to hear the breath of life sigh in and out of her lips.

Being with her, Griffith felt...complete.

The hell this was merely physical. Griffith had had plenty of physical affairs. In fact, every single relationship he'd ever had with a woman had been purely physical.

This bore no resemblance whatsoever.

Now, however, looking down at her, he wondered if he detected...displeasure. "Hey," he murmured, and brushed a finger down her cheek. "You okay?"

She immediately widened her half-masted eyes. "What? Who, me?" She cleared her throat. "Sure, I'm okay. Just dandy. But I, uh, suppose we really ought to go back to camp."

Griffith hesitated. Funny, she didn't sound okay. She sounded...off.

The next instant she rolled to get up, her hair falling to conceal her face. "Come on," she said, and sniffed. "I'll help you fold the blanket."

Was
she all right? Griffith tried to peer under her hair and into her face. She caught him at it, tossed back her hair and smiled.

Griffith relaxed. "Wait," he said. "You have some leaves..."

"What? Oh." Kate stood still while Griffith pulled some oak leaves out of her hair. He smiled at her. She, after a brief hesitation, smiled back.

Warmth rushed through him. This was...so good.

They got dressed and then Kate helped Griffith fold the blanket. Together, they walked back to her cabin.

Griffith bid her good-night in front of her closed door. She made up for the closed door, however, by bestowing on him the most amazing good-night kiss ever. Poignant and tender and caring.

Sweet. Oh, the whole night had been the sweetest time of his life.

It had been the pinnacle, the very apex of his existence.

Griffith walked back to his bunkhouse not even minding he was walking on air. He might have continued this air-walking if Orlando hadn't brought him back to earth the very next day.

Griffith's campers were picking potatoes again. It was not Griffith's favorite activity, but he endeavored to do his best, tossing one potato after another into the bin. It was tedious, back-breaking work, but Griffith was still riding the high of the night before. He would have spent the entire morning happily bending over and picking potatoes off the ground if Orlando hadn't interrupted his happy musings.

"You okay, Mr. Griffith?" Orlando bent to retrieve a potato Griffith had missed getting into the big blue bin.