She's My Kind of Girl (7 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Griffin was a civilized man. Really he was. Or at least he claimed to be. That was until he'd picked Darcy up and civilized flew right out the window.

He'd been a perfect gentleman, he hadn't even kissed her, but honestly that was only because if he'd kissed her he wouldn't have been able to stop. One kiss and she'd have ended up on the foyer floor with her clothes shredded to pieces, probably while her mother watched.

Because, Jesus Christ, that dress. He worried he might be salivating.

It was black, slinky, and hugged every curve. It went perfectly with her shiny black hair, red lips, and exaggerated cat eyes. She looked gorgeous, exotic, and so sexy he thought he might pass out from lack of blood flow. For the first time since she'd been back in town she looked like she'd been living in New York for all these years. Sophisticated, seductive, and intoxicating.

She was like crack.

As promised, he'd picked her up exactly at eight, and they were now seated in the middle of the crowded restaurant, pretending to look at menus while what seemed like half the town watched.

He hoped Barry appreciated the business, because for a Thursday night the place was packed.

Darcy tucked her sleek hair behind her ear and glanced around before leaning over the table. “Everyone is looking at us.”

“They are.” He gave her a long, slow once-over. “Or looking at you, is probably more accurate.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I don't want to hurt your reelection campaign.”

“I've got time before I have to worry about that.” He couldn't concentrate on any of the words in front of him but made a good showing. Without looking up he said, “Have I mentioned you look very fuckable tonight?”

A tiny intake of air from across the table, before she said in a hushed tone, “Griffin, the people.”

He still didn't look up. “The people are the only reason I didn't take you back to my place and drag you to bed like a caveman.”

Another soft huff. “Do you have to talk like that?”

He raised his head to meet her gaze. “Why? Have you changed?”

Cheeks pink, her brow furrowed. “I . . . um . . . don't understand the question.”

He picked up a glass of wine and took a sip. After he swallowed, he raised a brow. “I'm assuming talking dirty still makes you wet.”

Her blue eyes flashed, and she darted a glance around the room again. “This isn't proper mayor behavior.”

He waved an arm. “By all appearances I'm being a perfect gentleman and on my best behavior. They can't hear me.” He gave her a smile, shifting his attention to her mouth. “But you know the real me, don't you, Darce?”

“Yes, I do.” Her expression changed from nervous to sly before a smile graced her red lips. “You know, two can play at that game?”

He put his menu down and folded his hands on top of it. “Oh? Do tell.”

“It means I can still suck your cock so good it will bring you to your knees.” She raised her glass. “Cheers.”

He was thankful he wasn't drinking anything or he would have choked. As it was, he was lucky he didn't break the stem of the wine goblet. God help him but he loved this about her.

He touched his glass to hers. “Here's to licking you to orgasm.”

She sucked in a breath and took a sip of her wine. “More than one, I hope.”

He scoffed and sat back in his chair. “Have I ever let you off the hook with just one orgasm?”

“Nope.” Her gaze met his, and her blue eyes were smoky and hot.

He could stare into them forever. “Did you come today?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to wait for you.”

He experienced a rush of male satisfaction. “Good. Because I am going to do things to you that are illegal in most states.”

She took a sip of wine before giving him a killer smile. “I'm more than ready to break some rules.”

* * *

Three hours later, while the good people of Revival watched, Darcy and Griffin ate a dinner neither paid the least attention to and had the equivalent of in-person phone sex.

On the surface, they looked like they were having a polite, very proper dinner date. They'd talked to the chef. The manager. The waitstaff. And half the town. Griffin had shaken a lot of hands and made small talk that would make politicians everywhere proud.

But the second they were alone there was nothing proper about them. Their conversation had become so dirty, so obscene Griffin was almost ashamed of himself. Almost.

He was so damn hard, and he wanted her so damn much, he didn't know if he was capable of making it home. Twenty minutes—okay, fifteen—and he'd be inside her.

Griffin handed over his credit card to the waiter before raking his gaze over her. “We made it through dinner.”

“We did.” Her voice was breathless and husky, filled with sex and smoke.

“Maybe a balance between decorum and debauchery is possible.” He'd been thinking about it all night. The idea that it was possible to coexist. That with Darcy, it seemed possible.

Her expression flashed. “Maybe.”

“I only have one regret.”

“What's that?”

The waiter returned with the check, and Griffin filled out the tip and total before looking back up at Darcy. “If we were someplace no one knew us, you could have taken your panties off right here and I could have done all sorts of filthy things to you.”

“That's just the kind of thing I like.”

“I know.”

Her teeth scraped over her bottom lip. “Let's go.”

“Are you attached to that dress?”

She looked down at it. “It's new.”

He stood, and she did the same. He walked around the table, took her hand, and entwined their fingers while Revival watched. He narrowed the distance between them, standing close enough to feel the heat of her body. He leaned down and whispered, “It's going to be ruined.”

Chapter Sixteen

The car was dead silent, except for their too fast breathing. Not panting from exertion, but fast and shallow, thick with anticipation.

Darcy didn't know how she'd made it through dinner without attacking him. She was on fire.

The tension felt as though the air between them waited to explode.

She'd never felt anything like this. Not even back then when they'd been together.

It was like all civility had been stripped away, leaving behind nothing but raw, aching need.

With one hand on the steering wheel, his knuckles white from his tight grip, he placed his open palm on her bare leg.

She jumped, before sliding back into her seat like melted butter.

He squeezed her thighs. “Open.”

She didn't even hesitate. The fabric of her dress stretched, and he slid his fingers up her leg.

The drag, the press of his hand, the feel of his skin against hers an exquisite tease.

She moaned, arched.

His grip tightened on her inner thigh as a low rumble sounded in the car. His hand moved higher, higher.

She closed her eyes, exhaling in a harsh breath. Splaying her legs wider. Wanting him to touch her.

His fingers slipped into her panties and played over her slick, swollen flesh.

“So wet, Darce.” He stroked over her clit. “So fucking wet.”

She clutched the handle hanging next to the window and rocked into his touch.

“All through dinner I thought about this. Thought about how wet you would be.” He circled the hard nub and sensation exploded over her. “How my cock would feel sliding inside you.”

She tightened her hold. “Griffin.”

He slid his fingers inside her welcoming body. Pumping once, twice. “You're drenching my fingers.”

His thumb rubbed a path. He was driving her so crazy.

“God, Griff. Stop.” She was panting now. “Please stop. I'm going to come.”

“I know.” He thrust harder.

She shook her head. “No. I don't want to. I want to wait.”

He growled, slowing his pace to stave off her impending orgasm. “Until what?”

She groaned. She was going to die. He was going to kill her. “Until you're fucking me.”

“This is not going to be a civilized affair.”

“Good.” She couldn't stand it any longer; she sat up and leaned over, trailing over the line of his jaw. “Civilized is overrated.”

He turned the corner, his fingers sliding out from her panties, and trailed her wetness over her thighs. “We need to stop or I'm going to end up pulling over and pounding into you.”

“Fine by me.” She scraped her teeth over his neck, and his groan vibrated along her lips.

“I don't want to chance being interrupted.”

“Where are we going?” She put her hand on his cock and squeezed.

“Jesus.” The car swerved. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “My house.”

He swirled his tongue over her index finger before sucking it into his mouth. She felt the suction all the way down to her toes. “Are you sure?”

He released her with a pop. “I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

“Okay.” He turned onto Clementine Street.

When they pulled into the curved driveway, she stilled, blinking at the perfect white frame house, with the big wraparound porch and red door.

Her throat tightened, and she sat back in her seat as her eyes grew wet with unshed tears. In a soft whisper she said, “You bought it.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I did.”

She shook her head. “How?”

He smiled at her, his face so familiar, but his features were that of a man now, instead of a boy. “It wasn't hard, it came on the market and I bought it.”

“Griff. I—”

He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed each one. “I didn't buy it because of you, I bought it because I'd always wanted it.”

She nodded. They used to drive past this very house, sometimes stopping to park in front of it. Every time he saw the house he'd tell her he was going to buy it and they were going to live in it someday. They'd spin fantasies of living there, of raising a family, and she'd loved him so much she never wanted to tell him no. Never wanted to tell him that she wanted to go when he wanted to stay. Those nights, sitting with him in front of this house while he told her his dreams and hoped she'd wanted what he wanted. Had wanted to believe in that life and a future that included him and her forever.

She nodded, clearing her throat. “I know. You got it, everything you wanted. You got it all.”

His expression flashed, twisted, and then he gave her the most heartbreaking bittersweet smile. “I did. All but one.”

And in that moment, she knew. Knew with complete certainty what she'd been avoiding since she saw him at the Christmas party that night. She still loved him. Some part of her had never stopped loving him.

He was her perfect man.

She blinked tears away and wiped under her lashes. “We can't do this, Griff.”

All his muscles tensed. “We're doing it. I have to have you. I've known it since the moment I saw you.”

With her free hand she pressed her fingertips to her lips. “I don't want to hurt you.”

He was silent for a long time, the tension thick between them, filled with too many emotions. Finally, he said, “I know you're leaving. I know we have no future. I have no expectations.”

His words, they crushed her. Made her want to weep, because she heard the belief in his voice. Knew he meant every word. And she hated herself for it.

She wanted to be the woman he deserved.

Wanted to love him the way he deserved.

She bit her lip. Tonight she would. “Then take me inside.”

After a silent walk through the house, where Darcy barely paid attention to the house they'd had so many dreams about, they'd climbed the steps and now stood at the threshold of his bedroom. The massive bed dominated the room. The headboard was carved wood, with a heaviness that could only be handcrafted. It was loaded with pillows, and the deep wine bedspread was lush and inviting.

One look at the bed and Darcy knew it would be heaven to sleep in.

She licked her lips.

He pressed behind her, his hands on her hips. He whispered in her ear, “I'm almost afraid to start.”

She understood. She felt the same way. Like once they took this step, everything would change. “Me too.”

His lips brushed the lobe of her ear. “I want you so much, Darce.”

She leaned against him. “I want you, too.”

His hands slid around her waist. “Turn around.”

She did, and with his hands on her hips, he walked her back until her legs hit the mattress.

She blinked up at him. She practically trembled with desire and he'd barely touched her.

He curled his hand around her neck. Leaned down and brushed her lips with his. “It's been a long time.”

“It has been.”

“I feel like I should take my time and learn you all over again.” He nipped at her bottom lip, his teeth sinking into her flesh, and she groaned. “But that's not what I want right now.”

Her knees were weak. “And what do you want?”

“I want to fucking devour you.”

She sucked in a breath. “Yes, please.”

He growled low in his throat, and his lips finally, at long last, claimed hers.

His mouth was the best thing she'd experienced in forever. Hot and demanding. Full of tongue and teeth. Dirty and mean.

Completely Griffin.

She rose to her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss was like an explosion of heat and lust and everything pent up between them. Fighting and desperate to break free.

His hands ran the length of her body. He ripped away from her and said in a harsh, guttural tone, “Off.”

She disentangled herself long enough for her dress to be whisked over her head and tossed to the floor at their feet, leaving her naked except for her bra, underwear, and shoes.

His big palms gripped her hips, branding her.

His gaze raked down her body, and he muttered something under his breath, and then he pushed her onto the bed. Before she could process the feel of the mattress under her body, his lips were on her lace-covered nipple. Licking her through the fabric. Biting her. His hand slid over her other breast, before he rolled the hard bud between his thumb and forefinger.

She arched. “Griffin.” She ran her hands through his hair and pulled him closer. “Oh God, you feel good.”

He sucked harder. Deeper into his mouth.

She writhed under him. “I want you. Please. Take me.”

A low rumble from his throat. His hand slid from her breast and pressed between her legs. Circling his fingers where she wanted him most. Creating a delicious friction as he continued to lave her nipples.

It was a tease.

Sheer torture as he rubbed and licked her through the fabric of her lace lingerie.

Her breath came fast and she cried out as he bit her nipple, tugging it with his teeth as he stroked her clit. She arched off the bed. “I'm going to come.”

God help her she was.

He pulled away. Then he was moving down her stomach, licking a path over her skin.

His mouth covered her silk-covered mound.

She keened off the bed. Gripping the fabric in her hands as he teased her through the strip of lace that separated them.

He gripped her hips, holding her down as he tormented her.

Until she was mindless.

Until she was begging.

“Griffin, please, God, Griff, now.” Incoherent chatter while she desperately tried to communicate the depth of her desire.

He stripped her panties down her legs before rearing up and ridding her of her bra. He looked down at her, shaking his head. She was naked now, except for her shoes, and he was still completely dressed.

She moaned. “You have on too many clothes.”

Hands bracketing her head, he leaned down and kissed her. Hungry and demanding. Until she could no longer breathe.

His lids hooded, he whispered against her lips, “Play with your nipples while I lick your pussy.”

She shook her head. “I can't.”

“You can.”

“I'll come.”

“I know.” He skimmed down her body, his lips everywhere, driving her crazy.

His mouth covered her, licking the swollen folds.

She cried out, bucking up against his lips.

He licked her clit, circling over the sensitive nub. She could only look down at him and rock her hips against him, powerless against his onslaught.

With his mouth still on her, he looked up and met her eyes. Electricity pulsed between them, and her body clenched.

He lifted his head. “Your nipples look needy.”

She shifted so she rested against the headboard, and he followed her up, because she wanted to watch him, and she knew he wanted to watch her, and she never could deny him anything. She ran her hands over her breasts, watching him. He lowered his mouth, licked her.

She played over her nipples.

He played over her clit.

They watched each other.

She couldn't describe the eroticism of what passed between them. Connected as they synchronized their movements. Her fingers pulling in a slow, rhythmic pulse in time with the grind of his mouth and the roll of her hips.

Their eyes locked together.

It was the hottest, dirtiest thing she'd ever seen, and she never wanted it to end.

But the need to come was barreling over her, and she gasped as her body tightened. “I'm going to come.”

His lips lifted slightly. “Then come.”

She shook her head. “I want to come on your cock the first time. You need to be inside me.”

He growled and licked once again before raising his head and kneeling between her legs. He slipped off her shoes and tossed them to the floor before standing. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, three buttons at his neck, before ridding himself of his shirt over his head.

Her breath came fast as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a condom, which he threw onto the bed, and then unbuckled his pants.

Darcy was sure she'd never seen anything as sexy as Griffin stripping out of his clothes with that look in his eyes. That primal, possessive look she hadn't seen in forever.

Finally, he was naked, and he climbed between her legs, ripped open the condom, and rolled it over his erection. He ran his fingers between her legs, stroking over her soaking flesh before gripping her thighs and yanking her down the bed.

He lifted her hips and impaled her.

She cried out. Rolling up to meet him.

He pulled out and slammed back in again.

He cursed. Repeated.

She reached for him and pulled him down so he covered her. Their lips met, fused, and parted on a gasp as the angle deepened the contact between them. She moaned. “Please take me.”

He started to move in earnest.

And the words came from her throat, unbidden, but what she wanted so bad. “Make me yours.”

The statement seemed to explode everything between them.

He pounded into her. Faster. Urgent and desperate. He growled in a low, primitive voice. “You
are
mine.”

“Yes.” Her body quickened. “Always.”

“Always.” He thrust, taking them higher as he took her harder and harder.

She didn't want it to end. She wanted it to last forever.

But it was too much. Too intense. And she'd been on the edge for so damn long.