His gaze dipped to my mouth before returning to my eyes. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, filled with all kinds of promise. "Warn me about what?"
Already, my face was flaming, but I hardly cared. The heat felt oddly good considering that I'd been freezing not too long ago.
In the end, I dug deep for my courage and softly said it – something a city girl might say to a city guy. "It might take more than words." I paused, wondering if he got it. And then, just in case he didn't, I added, "I mean, to distract me."
38
More Than Words
Griff
She'd said it softly, almost too quietly to catch.It might take more than words…I mean…to distract me.
But her own words? They were beyond distracting. They hit like a sucker punch, because I knew exactly what she meant. And God help me, I wanted to be that distraction. I wanted to wrap her up, kiss her breathless, and make her forget everything outside this shop.
But I couldn't. Iwouldn't– in spite of what I wanted.
I wasn'tsupposedto want her – not with a clock ticking on this whole damn charade. I was just passing through – a guy with a wrench and a name she'd soon forget.
But I wouldn't forgether.I'd known this already.
And now, I was rethinking everything. The way she looked tonight – with those windburned cheeks, her lips softly parted, and those beautiful eyes so full of hope – it was enough to break me then and there.
But I would be damned if I'd breakher.
She was too sweet, too genuine, and too damned decent to justify a quickie in a storm. Then again, a sly voice whispered in my ear, I wasn't known for being quick.
Fuck.
I stepped closer, telling myself to be smart, to slow the hell down, to slam on the brakes before we careened over the edge. In a low voice, I said, "That's the storm talking."
She turned and looked outside, where the storm was still raging. Lightning flickered, and the wind howled, rattling thewindow frame. But when she returned her gaze to mine, a different storm was brewing in her eyes. It was the kind of storm that called for soft sheets, slow kisses, and shamelessly naked skin.
Her voice was nearly breathless as she said, "Forget the weather. I don't even care."
It was an easy thought, exceptIcared, probably more than I was willing to admit. "About what?"
"The storm…the shop…whatever."
It was a lie.She cared plenty, and I damn well knew it. Whatever had happened today, it was messing with her head – and mine, too, because suddenly every hungry impulse I'd been keeping in check came clawing to the surface before rushing straight to my groin.
I wanted her.
Bad.
If I were being honest, I'd been wanting her from the start – and not just because she was so damned pretty and full of life. It was the way she smiled when she was happy. It was the way she laughed when she was amused. It was the way she treated people – whether they were random customers or some guy looking for a sandwich and a job.
I had never been in love. And yet, I couldn't help but wonder if this was how it felt. The idea was laughable, I knew, because for one thing, I'd been here for how long? Not even two weeks?
It wasn't nearly long enough.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to get a grip. And yet, when I spoke, my voice came out raw and rough. "Maisie, let's…" Shit, I didn't want to say it. "Revisit this tomorrow, alright?"
When she blinked, I saw the shift, the shutdown, the flicker of heat in her eyes getting snuffed out by something colder. She took a single step back and cleared her throat. "Oh…right."
I wanted to say something, but hell if I knew what.
She gave a shaky laugh. "Wow, Ireallymisread that. Sorry."
