No Knight Needed (26 page)

Slowly, she moved her hand down, over his stomach. His muscles quivered beneath her touch, and she heard him suck in his breath. She smiled when she saw the hooded darkness to his eyes. “You like that?”

“You could say that.”

She grew more bold, drawing circles on his belly, sliding her hand lower and lower, until it brushed across the waistband of his sweats.

“You’re in trouble now, woman.” Griffin grabbed her and tossed her beneath him. “You’ve stirred up the monster.”

And this time, when he kissed her, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was hot and wet, firing up all her nerve endings and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

She’d never kissed anyone that way before. Not with such passion. With such relentless abandon. With such confidence. With such desire.

He shifted his position, and then tugged her camisole up over her breasts. Before she could feel exposed or vulnerable, he settled himself back on her, pressing the bare skin of his chest against hers.

The sensation of his skin sliding across hers was amazing. “That feels so good.”

“Hell, yeah, it does.” Griffin’s voice was muffled as he kissed her neck.

Clare tipped her head back as he mixed it up. A kiss, a nip, a nuzzle, a lick. Here, and there, and then on her collar bone, and then on the swell of her breast...

“Oh, my God.” She gripped his shoulders as he took her nipple into his mouth. Desire rocketed through her, and she grabbed his head. “Griffin—”

He bit lightly, and something shot through her, deep in her belly. A mini orgasm? Already? From that? No, it couldn’t be—

Then he kissed her again, and she forgot about analyzing the sensations tumbling through her. All she could think of was the feel of his body against hers, the way he kissed her. His fingers in her hair. His palm cupping her breast as if it were some great treasure he had to protect.

He moved his hand to her waist. He rested his palm on her hip, his fingers inching beneath the light fabric of her delicate shorts, the ones that Astrid had given her seven years ago, but she’d never worn. Until tonight.

Griffin’s thumb circled the front of her hip bone, moving closer and closer—

And then he was kissing her again, and she couldn’t keep track of his hand and kiss him at the same time. There was too much fire burning inside her, too much sensation. When he finally touched her, the orgasm that ripped through her was instant, electrifying and a thousand times more powerful than she’d ever experienced in her life.

He caught her gasp with his kiss, drawing the orgasm out as he fed it with his kisses and his touch, driving her mad until there was nothing left inside her but a quivering mass of decadent pleasure. She collapsed against the bed, her body slick with sweat, her muscles trembling. “Holy cow.”

A grin of pure, male satisfaction on his face, Griffin pulled back as she tried to catch her breath. “You keep having orgasms that easily, and I’m going to think I’m the world’s greatest lover.”

She was so embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, no,” he said, laughing as he kissed her forehead. “Trust me, it’s all good.”

She relaxed a bit at his self-satisfied tone. “You sure? Are you mad that I didn’t wait for you?” Oh, God, that was an embarrassing question, but she had to know.

“Oh, sweetheart, there is nothing to worry about.” He kissed her again, a little longer, a little deeper this time. “We haven’t even gotten started.”

Anticipation flushed through Clare. “We haven’t?” Oh, wow. That was really exciting news, because that had just been incredible.

“Hell, no.” Then he rolled off her, stood up and began to untie the drawstring on his sweats.

Fascinated, Clare propped herself up on her elbow to watch. Somehow, coming apart in Griffin’s arms had taken away her nervousness. Now her body was jazzed, and she was totally engaged in the moment.

Griffin cocked an eyebrow at her as he tugged his sweats over his hips and let them drop.

“Silk boxers?” What would the men of Birch Crossing think of silk boxers? Then she sobered at the reminder that Griffin was not of Birch Crossing, and he never would be.

“I like how they feel against my skin.” He contemplated her for a moment, as if he were debating her reaction, and then he took the boxers off as well.

Clare’s breath caught at the sight of his erection, at the raw male standing before her. The outsider. The business man. The father. The man who made her laugh. The man who made her feel alive for the first time in years. He was all of the above, a magnificent combination of so many different things. She wanted him, with all his complexities.

This was her night.

This was their night.

She accepted the consequences.

So, she lifted her hand and held it out to him, in invitation.

His face was shadowed and serious. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

A smile creased his cheeks, and she caught sight of the dimple before he set his hand in hers and joined her on the bed.

And this time, she had no more doubts.

Intimacy with a woman had never been like this.

Never in his whole damn life.

As Griffin slid into bed beside Clare, her huge blue eyes riveted to his face, her hair tousled on the pillow, Griffin knew that this moment was a treasure that would never come again.

Moments like this came once in a lifetime.

Slowly, almost afraid to see whether the fantasy was real, Griffin leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Her arms went around his neck, and she kissed him back. Her kiss was so tentative, exploratory, unsure, but it was laced with a sensuality that made the part of him respond that had lain dormant for years.

He ran his hand over her hip as he kissed her, marveling at the feel of her skin. It was so soft, so smooth. He could feel every curve of her body, the muscles beneath, as if she were a beautiful sculpture of angel wings and spring sunshine.

Women had just been women to him.

But this was different. This was
Clare.

Fire shifted inside him, and he was hit with a need for more. To connect with her. He kissed her more deeply, seducing her with his mouth as he hooked his fingers over those decadently innocent shorts and pulled them down her hips, over her thighs, past her calves—

Clare moved her feet, kicking the shorts off, and he kissed her as he touched her intimately again. And again, her body convulsed, but he moved his hand before she could go all the way. “This time,” he commanded between kisses, “you must wait for me, sweetheart.”

Chuckling at her groan of impatience, Griffin kissed Clare again, basking in the taste of her lips, in the growing confidence in her kisses. She ran her fingers through his hair, a sensual caress that felt so freaking incredible. Her hands slid over his shoulders and down his arms, across his hip, up his back, her touch so damned erotic he wanted to pin her to the bed and make her his right then.

It wasn’t simply her touch that was so incredible. It was the way she was moving and touching him, the restless motion of her hips beneath him, the depth of her kisses as she accepted his. She wanted him. She wasn’t simply tolerating his advances. She absolutely and unabashedly desired him, craved him, wanted him, and welcomed him, and that was unbelievable. Her need for him reached deep inside him to a place that had been shut down for so long, unleashing a burning passion that ripped through him.

Suddenly, nothing mattered but Clare. Her kisses, her silky skin, the way her body felt beneath his.

Raw possession surged over him, and he kissed harder, deeper, taking over the kiss, needing to claim her, to make her his. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her breasts, her stomach. Every inch of her skin needed his mark. He was consumed with his need for her, to strip away all the walls between them until there was nothing left but the burning, insatiable fire raging within him.

He sank between her thighs, moving against her, his body trembling with the need to take her, to lose himself in her body and her soul. He was desperate for more, unable to kiss her deeply enough to take away the gaping emptiness inside him that needed her so badly. Still kissing her, still moving against her, Griffin touched her and was nearly undone when he found how ready she was for him. She wanted him as much as he craved her? How was that possible? He couldn’t even begin to understand how a woman as incredible as Clare, with a heart so warm and amazing could want
him
so badly.

Raw desire knifed through him, so intense it was almost painful. He couldn’t wait. Couldn’t hold off. He needed to be inside her, to lock her down as his, to lose himself in her—

“Astrid gave me condoms,” she whispered, her breath warm against the side of his neck. “They’re by the bed.”

She was ready? Jesus.
She was ready for him.
He had some condoms in his room, but it hadn’t been on his mind when he’d walked in here tonight. “Remind me to thank her.” He found the objects in question, made quick work of the packaging and then he settled himself between Clare’s hips.

He was startled to discover his heart was pounding in his chest, his breathing tight, his lungs constricted with the intensity of the moment. Then he saw Clare’s wary expression, and all his frenzy vanished, replaced with a protective instinct to make sure it was right for her, to treasure the gift she was offering him.

Her eyes were wide, nearly luminescent as she watched him. Her hands were on his shoulders, almost bracing herself. Desire flushed her cheeks, but nervousness was evident in the way she watched him.

“Clare,” he whispered. “I treasure you.” Forcing himself not to drive deep and claim her, Griffin kissed her, lightly, gently, seductively.

Her lips parted beneath his, and he felt the moment she forgot to be nervous, when she became lost in the sensation of skin and touching and kissing and passion. The fire built inside him, licking away at his self-control and at his sanity, until all he could absorb was the woman beneath him. Her light, floral scent, the taste of her mouth, the saltiness of her skin, the softness of her hair, the power and passion in her curvy body as she moved beneath him, responding to his kiss, allowing herself to fall under the spell that was trying so hard to consume him.

“I need to be inside you.” He moved his hips, testing, and Clare made a noise of desire that arched deep into his core, severing the remaining threads of his restraint.

“Yes,” she whispered. She leaned her head back, and he showered kisses on her throat as he moved his hips faster now, rubbing against her, feeling her readiness for him.

Clare adjusted her legs so he could sink deeper against her. She was twisting beneath him, driven by her own desires and needs, and feeling the same intensity that was driving him. He’d never needed intimacy like this before. It had always been about sex, about physical fulfillment, but he felt like if he didn’t make love to her, a part of him would forever be incomplete.

He lifted his head from her neck to look at her, and Clare immediately opened her eyes, as if she’d sensed his need to connect.

Her eyes were flooded with desire, with passion, and her face was relaxed. No fear. No hesitation. Then she smiled, and he saw the trust in her beautiful face.

Pure, untainted,
trust…
in him.

“Griffin,” she whispered, “make love to me.”

“
Clare.
” The sound of his name on her lips shredded the last threads of his control. Need overwhelmed him, and he shifted, plunging deep into her body.

The intensity of the connection rushed through him, and he felt like his entire world had just been made right as he felt her body accept him, as he buried himself inside the woman who had made his soul come alive.

Clare gasped and gripped his shoulders, but she didn’t take her gaze from his face, and he couldn’t have ripped his gaze off hers if his life depended on it. He felt like he was falling into those eyes, into the passion and humanity brimming in them.

He wanted to move, to take her, to connect them in a way only he could, but he knew she wasn’t ready. He braced himself, forcing himself to still so she could adjust to him. He kissed her once, then again, and again, the kisses building a fire as quickly as before.

And then Clare wiggled her hips, and he nearly lost it right then. He gritted his jaw, holding still as she began to move beneath him, testing, experimenting, exploring.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Just like that.” He began to move with her, against her, coaxing her, leading her, responding to her, until he couldn’t separate himself from her anymore.

He was kissing her with a fierceness and need he couldn’t sate, his body thrusting, withdrawing, and again, moving with her, keeping them connected as she writhed beneath him. It was no longer about him, his need for her, and his desire to protect her. He couldn’t separate them anymore, couldn’t distinguish between her kisses and his, her desire and his need. All he knew was that she was his world, that nothing mattered, that the only moment that ever existed for him was right then, right there, in Clare’s arms.

“God, Griffin—” she gasped, and then her body went rigid as the orgasm consumed her.

He caught her shout of pleasure with a kiss, holding her small frame as she came apart in his arms, again and again, an endless wave of pleasure that brought him to the edge and—

His orgasm hit him with violent force, ripping a gasp out of him as it surged through him. He held onto Clare, anchoring her against him as the orgasms tore them both apart, bringing them to places he had never been, and he knew he’d never get to again.

When it finally released them and Griffin collapsed on top of her, he knew that he had just been given a gift he would never, ever be worthy of.

But as Clare whispered his name and snuggled into the curve of his body, he knew that he would never, ever give it back.

* * *

Falling asleep in Griffin’s arms had been a mistake.

When Clare awoke to the feel of his body against hers, his face nuzzled against her neck, the first rays of dawn streaming over his bare back, the utter contentment that filled her was absolutely terrifying.