She shrugged and waved a hand, the gesture dismissive. And maybe he would’ve bought her show of disinterest if she hadn’t folded her arms over her chest as if protecting herself. From him. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to know. You don’t owe me an explanation anyway.” She faced him, that careful mask he hadn’t seen since the night in the bar, back in place. He hated it. Hated how she used it to shut him out and disappear behind. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Fuck that,” he snarled, startling them both with the ferocity that erupted from him. Something primal and possessive snapped inside him, and in one step, he eliminated the distance between them. “Fuck that,” he repeated, encircling her arms again in a firm grip. “You don’t get to push me away. To lock me out. Not after you’ve let me back inside your body. Let me have you again. You forfeited the right to push me away the moment you let me fuck that sweet pussy.”
“I don’t want you,” she rasped, her chest rising and falling on fast, harsh pants.
“Liar,” he snapped, embracing the pain her words inflicted, allowing it to fuel the lust surging fast between them. He yanked her closer until a breath separated their mouths, and his cock pressed into the softness of her belly. He ground his rock hard flesh against her, his mouth curving into a smile that felt tight and cruel on his lips. “If I slid my hand inside you right now, I bet you would be drenched and sucking at me. Begging to be fucked.”
She whimpered, her lashes fluttering down. “I don’t want to want you,” she clarified on a broken murmur.
Again, agony sliced through him, splaying him open for this woman. No one could make him bleed like her. “I don’t care,” he growled then crushed his mouth to hers.
Not gentle or tender. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t give her that. Not with the throbbing ache pulsing inside him like an open wound. He buried both hands in her hair, cocking her head to the side and holding her steady for the heavy thrust of his tongue. She moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed it, demanding another. And another. She dropped her arms from in between them and clutched his wrists. Rising on tip toe, she met him stroke for stroke, lick for lick, suck for suck. It was messy, raw, wet and so hot, his dick pounded with the need to be balls deep inside her.
He grabbed the hem of her shirt and jerked it above her breasts, then yanked down the cups to the pale, flesh-colored bra, exposing her to his desperate stare and touch. He surrounded her nipple, coiling his tongue around the nub and tugging. God, she was delicious. Like chocolate sin. And he couldn’t get enough. He switched to her neglected tip and flicked it before drawing it deep, thumbing the other wet nipple, rubbing the moisture he’d left behind into her skin.
Releasing her breast, he slid his hand down the front of her jeans, cupped her and thrust two big fingers inside her. Goddamn, so wet. So tight. Slick, muscular walls clenched him like a vise. She burned and drowned him. He cradled the nape of her neck and tipped her head back, rubbing his mouth over her parted lips. Her thick fringe of lashes lifted, and dark satisfaction poured through him at the hazel depths clouded with passion.
“You’re fucking soaked, Hayden,” he murmured, curling his fingertips, massaging. She trembled against him, moaned. “You might not need me, but your pussy does.”
Her only response was another shudder and a squeeze on his fingers that threatened to cut off his circulation. His groan joined hers, and he tore her jeans open and jerked the denim down her legs. In moments, he had her propped on the counter, his cock in his fist and kissing the plump, glistening flesh between her thighs.
“Take me in, Hayden. Take me inside.” Her claim of not wanting him—of not wanting to want him—still scored him like stinging claw marks. This had to be her move, her decision.
He waited, dick throbbing, chest aching from lack of breath. And when her fingers fisted him and guided him inside her, he could’ve shouted with joy as well as pleasure. She immediately clasped him, embraced him in the sweetest, most intimate embrace. He’d never experienced this sense of welcome, of homecoming with another woman. Sex had never been this fucking important. Like if he didn’t sink inside her pussy, he would cease to exist.
Gripping her hair, he gave her head a little shake. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me. Let me see.” Then he sank deep, sheathing himself from tip to base in her. She fluttered around him, dragging a grunt of pure hunger from him. And in her hazel gaze, hot desire flashed. There it was. He withdrew, pushed back in. That’s what he yearned to see. That need that let him know he wasn’t in this alone.
Over and over, he buried himself inside her, whispering curses and praise about how fucking good she felt sucking his cock deep, about how she took him so easily, about how goddamn gorgeous she was lost in pleasure. Not once did he allow her to close her eyes, shut him out. Wet slaps of flesh smacking flesh, of her pussy releasing and accepting his dick, of their harsh breaths filled the kitchen.
Too soon, orgasm barreled down on him. Electricity crackled down his spine, raced to his balls. Clenching his jaw, he tried to hold it off, wanting to stay in heaven just a little longer. But fuck, it was too good. Too damn good.
Hayden stiffened against him, and enraptured, he watched her face tighten and her eyes darken before going slack with pleasure. Her head tipped back on her shoulders as her pussy clamped down on his cock, milking him. With a low growl, he exploded. Fuck if his soul didn’t empty out of him along with his cum.
He rocketed into her, riding her through both of their orgasms until even the ripples faded. Only then did he release her from his gaze and bury his face in her tangled hair. He inhaled her special scent of apples and Hayden.
In that moment, weakened by release, his defenses cracked down the middle, chips falling away. This woman…she’d once been his best friend, his closest confidante and then his lover. His love. He’d trusted her more than anyone. And now, he could continue to protect himself from possible hurt and betrayal or believe in her heart, her spirit, once more.
Closing his eyes, he brushed his lips over the shell of her ear.
“Sarah is an eight year-old little girl,” he murmured, taking that leap. “And she’s the reason I’m here.”
11
Being summoned to Joshua’s office like a naughty child first thing Monday morning was not Griffin’s idea of a great way to start a day. At thirty years old, he was too old for this shit. And if Sarah’s playground and slice of joy didn’t hang in the balance, he would’ve told his father’s secretary just that. But his promise was on the line, and it would’ve been an asshole move to take out his frustration on the woman. Just one more way he and his father differed. One of many he hoped.
The ding of the elevator announced his arrival on the executive floor of Sutherland Industries. A tension that only invaded him when he was in his father’s presence seeped into his body, slowly stiffening him as if every cell slowly knitted together to form a barrier within and over him. An unexpected flash of sadness flickered through him. Sadness that he had to guard his heart and spirit when preparing to face his father, the man whose DNA he shared, who raised him, who should’ve been his role model and best friend. But the same contentious, strained relationship Joshua shared with his father Bud—a need to prove himself, of not feeling good enough, respected—plagued his and Griffin’s. A family curse that could’ve been broken, but hadn’t been.
It will with me. The steely resolve wavered inside him along with an image of Hayden sleeping among the tangled sheets, her slim arms wrapped around a pillow. He inhaled a deep breath as his gut clenched against the memory. This weekend had been amazing—and agonizing. Pain and pleasure. It’d been more than touching her again, being inside her again. It’d been the quieter moments—watchingSupernaturalwith her, laughing with her, cooking for her, talking with her.
But when he’d left last her home last night, there’d been a sense of…loss. As if he should’ve glanced back over his shoulder for one more look. As if he was saying good-bye to something precious. Silly as fuck since he didn’t believe in that shit, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness that dogged him even now.
He thrust his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. He needed to get it together quick. Walking into Joshua’s office with any chink in his armor was dangerous. His father could smell weakness like a shark could scent chum.
“Good morning, Mr. Sutherland,” the blonde receptionist from a week earlier greeted him. “You can go in. He’s expecting you.”
Of course he was. He nodded, murmuring his thanks, and entered Joshua’s inner sanctum. Like their first meeting, his father sat behind his desk like a king on a throne. Dark eyes studied him as he crossed the room and sat in one of the visitor chairs.
“Griffin.”
