“Distracting me. Changing the subject. But the choice is still yours.”
He had to be joking. They’d already spent the night in his bed, awakened tangled together and half-dressed, and she’d bared her soul to the man she loved. Her choice? Not likely. The decision had been taken out of her hands long ago.
She recalled her philosophy and decided to grasp what life—or in this case—Griff offered. When she looked back on this time, at least she’d have a beautiful memory.
She gazed up at him, fearful all she felt would show in her face. But she wanted to be with him. At this moment, she couldn’t recall a time when she hadn’t. He’d pervaded every aspect of her life, including work, which had formerly been her escape. In so doing, he’d become an important part of her. Too important. But she couldn’t worry about that now.
A passion simmered between them and now, no longer buried beneath the surface, it threatened to bubble over. And that was good, she thought, glancing into his desire-filled eyes. More than good.
“Okay, counselor,” she murmured. “I choose you.”
“Be sure.” Griff could handle her changing her mind before they made love, but not tearful regrets and recriminations afterwards.
“I am.”
He had to accept her word. Looking down at her tousled hair and barely parted lips, he could do nothing else. With one hand, he raised the hem of the shirt she’d borrowed and trailed his fingers along her abdomen. The silky texture of her skin jarred the rest of his body into a complete state of arousal.
She lay still, allowing his hand the freedom to wander at will. With his fingertips, he traced a line from mid-thigh along her narrow waist and over the curve of her breast. Pausing long enough to brush one hardened nipple with his thumb, he learned the feel of her skin. He inched his fingers downward.
She drew a shaky breath as her gaze fastened on his face. The trust he saw reflected in her brown eyes humbled him, especially after what he’d learned of her past. He wasn’t sure he was worthy of that kind of faith. Though he’d do his best not to hurt her, he couldn’t offer more than this.
Too much of himself had been torn apart, and the little that remained belonged to his niece. He could give Chelsie now. Perhaps that would be enough for her. He ignored the voice that asked if it would be enough for him.
“Griff?”
Looking at her curious expression, he realized that although his thoughts had rampaged out of control, his hand had stilled. “Sorry,” he murmured and refocused his attention on what was important.
On Chelsie.
As he lowered his lips to meet hers, all hesitancy fled. Heat spread through him like a sudden burst of wind. The initial sensation stunned him, wreaking havoc with his body and soul.
Dipping his head, he caught her lips with his, coaxing her with his mouth, his tongue... and a piece of his heart.
His hand, which had come to rest on her stomach, inched upward again. He tried to start slowly, to savor the feel of her beneath his touch, but she writhed beneath him, urging him to move higher and stroke faster.
He did, cupping her breast while brushing one sensitive nipple with his thumb until it hardened into a tight peak. All the while, he continued his gentle assault on her mouth, tasting her moist heat. When she moaned softly, he took the sound deep inside of him, into a place she’d already reached.
He wanted to feel her gentle hands, wanted her to learn the feel of him as he had her. What he needed, he realized, was to know she wanted him, too. The blood rushing through him, demanding an immediate response, attested to his desire.
Through the haze of need, he realized she hadn’t done more than run her hands along his bare back. He lifted his head and drew a deep breath.
She gazed at him through passion-filled eyes. Though he liked what he saw, he wondered why she held back. “Touch me,” he whispered.
Her eyes, which seemed heavy only seconds before, opened wide. He traced her moist lips with one finger. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.
>
“What is it?” With his voice and movements, he attempted to strengthen the trust he had seen in her eyes.
“I don’t know... I mean...” Her voice trailed off, her cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.
She was wonderfully responsive, but hadn’t initiated any physical contact. He suspected her marriage had taught her little about sex and even less about making love. Though he knew plenty about the act itself, he might know as little as Chelsie about the emotions involved. Until now, he hadn’t cared enough to learn.
He reached for her hand and held on tight. “You don’t have to know anything except what feels right for you.”
“Teach me.” Her words came out a combination of a plea and a dare. She probably didn’t realize they’d be charting new territory together.
“Just feel,” he whispered. With a gentle brush of his fingertips, he closed her eyelids. Long lashes fluttered against her cheeks.