And then he captures my mouth again, this time pushing his tongue into mine. Oh, sweet invasion.
Somewhere in the distance, a beeping sound goes off. I ignore it.
Kissing Griff . . . Touching Griff . . . That’s the only thing I care about.
But then some little voice reminds me, That beeping is from an alarm. The watch alarm you set to prevent things from going too far.
It’s like waking from a trance. My eyes flutter open.
The sound of the bar comes back. Bikers are calling out all sorts of coarse things, and I’m pretty sure I hear Candy somewhere in the background calling me a lucky bitch.
The five minutes are up, but Griff hasn’t stopped. His tongue twists in my mouth as he pistons between my legs. It’s like we’re having sex with our clothes still on, and for a moment, I join him, undulating into the heavy shove of his hips. I almost get dragged back down underneath his spell.
But no . . . no . . . We have to stop!
I pull back, tearing my lips away from his.
He immediately tries to follow me, but I grab onto my last piece of sanity to gasp out, “Griff, no. You have to stop. You promised you would stop after five minutes.”
He blinks his eyes open, and he looks like he’s coming out of a trance too.
“What the hell was that?” he demands, as if I’m the one who cast a spell over him and not the other way around.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back.
Because it sure as heck wasn’t just a kiss.
The crowd gathered around us is losing their mind, like we put on a show just for them.
Embarrassment creeps in, and I stiffen, trying to figure out how I should handle this so that I can keep working here without getting harassed too badly on a daily basis.
He takes off his jacket and puts it on me, pushing my arms through it.
“I’m sorry,” he says, zipping me up in leather and covering my breasts. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”
Me either. But I squint at him and have to ask, “What were you trying to do when you kissed me like that?”
He dips his head and presses his forehead into mine. “Convince you. I don’t want you to leave with me because of some record. I want you to leave with me because you want me as bad as I want you.”
His explanation is so simple. Yet it sets off a volcano of emotions inside my chest, and I realize something at that moment.
I do. I do want him too—as bad as he says he wants me.
Not because he’s a nice guy and we’ve been dating an appropriate number of months to introduce sex. But because for the first time in my life someone has kissed me in a way that makes me feel something other than mild curiosity and duty below the waist.
“I know I gave you my word to stop, and I didn’t stick to it,” he continues. His eyes are boring into mine again, hot and tortured. “But that was because I didn’t want to stop. I want you, Red.”
His voice is thick with lust and frustration as he tells me, “I want you. In my bed. Now. And I’m pretty damn sure that kiss proves you want me too.”
More than proved it. Even zipped up in his jacket, my whole body continues to tingle like I’m still naked and exposed.
“I . . .” I swallow, carefully lower my legs from around his waist, and tell him, “I don’t want to go upstairs with you.”
His whole expression crumples, like I kicked him in the stomach.
So I imagine he’s almost as surprised as me when I add, “You mentioned having somewhere else you could take me to earlier. Take me to it. Take me to it right now.”
CHAPTER 7
GRIFF
What the hell was that?
I ask myself this question again as I watch Red’s car pull up at my dad’s cabin—the cabin I’ve never invited my fellow Reapers to, much less some girl I just met.
But that kiss, man . . .
Don’t blame it all on the kiss. You were all set to invite her here before you even got those five minutes, my brother snidely points out inside my head. You’re breaking all your rules for this woman.
This isn’t the first time the imaginary version of my brother has called me out. Most guys have a voice of reason that sounds like either themselves, whatever god they’re into, or an imaginary cricket. But ever since my older brother, Geoff, decided I wasn’t “ready” for a deal with our family’s record label, I’ve had his voice inside my head. Correcting me. Telling me I’m not good enough.
But now isn’t the time to be thinking about my asshole brother.