Outside, the storm was still throwing a fit, pelting the rooftop with thundering rain. But here in the tent? Everything was soft and cozy.
Griff crawled in after me, sealing the flap with a practiced zip that sounded way too suggestive now that I was close.
He pulled me into his arms."Thereyou are."
Yup, here I was, alright. And there was no place on Earth I'd rather be. But I didn't say it, because it felt like too much, too soon, and boldness only went so far. So instead, I kissed him like the world was ending, which might be the case, considering the raging storm.
His bare chest pressed against mine, but it wasn't nearly enough. We were still wearing far too many clothes, including his jeans and the black slacks I'd worn to that stupid meeting.
On the upside, neither of us were wearing shoes or socks. I'd shuffled off mine ages ago, and Griff's were gone, too – apparently flung off to wherever before he'd crawled in.
Smart man.
Without breaking the kiss, I slid one leg over his, trying to get as close as possible. The sleeping bag bunched beneath us, but I hardly cared. His hands moved over my back, down to my hips, and then hooked into the waistband of my slacks.
He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, "These have got to go."
I was already reaching for the button of his jeans. "Only if yours do too."
We fumbled through it together, blind in the dark, all fingers and urgency. His jeans went first, kicked into some random corner of the tent. My own pants followed with less grace – at one point, I got a foot stuck and ended up laughing into his shoulder.
He was laughing too. "Don't hurt yourself."
I gave him a playful swat to the chest. "Then stop being so distracting."
When he slid down my panties, I shoved down his briefs with an urgency that should've been embarrassing. But it wasn't. I was far too gone for anything likethat.
When I felt his erection against my hip, I marveled at the size of it, the feel of it, the promise of it. I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his length just as his hand found its way between my thighs.
The moment he touched me – really touched me – I gasped into his mouth. His fingers were gentle at first, tracing soft circles that made my breath catch and my hips arch. He groaned, low and rough, like he was barely holding himself back.
He brushed his lips against my temple. "You're already so wet. You have no idea what that's doing to me."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My whole body had gone electric, every nerve tuned to the slow, torturous rhythm of his hand.
His mouth moved to my throat as his fingers dipped deeper. I moaned, soft and unguarded, as he found that one special spot that made my toes nearly curl.
"That's it," he whispered, stroking me with maddening precision. "Just like that."
I clung to his shoulders, lost in the sensation, my hips moving without permission as his touch drove me higher. The tent, thestorm, the tile floor outside – all of it faded. There was only this.Only him.
And when I came, I did it with a cry I didn't bother to stifle, my body shuddering against his as my heart pounded like the rain on the rooftop.
He held me through it, one hand still cupping me, the other stroking my hair as I buried my face in his neck, breathless and undone.
For a heartbeat, I just lay there, trembling, stunned by how completely he'd unraveled me.
When I could finally speak, my voice came out shaky and small. "Wow."
He chuckled. "Told you I was good with my hands."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Wait,Iwas the one who said that."It was true.I'd said this to him just yesterday when he'd fixed a busted brake line in five minutes flat.
His voice was cocky in the darkness. "Yeah, but I didn't argue, did I?"
Still catching my breath, I let my hand trail lazily down his chest. "Good point."
And tonight, he had fixedme.
