Page 152 of The Rookie

Because I do want him. So bad it hurts.

I reach for him, my hands finding his chest, the crisp fabric of his shirt warm under my palms.

"I’m not—" I start, but my words falter as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just below my jaw. My knees weaken. "I’m not on the pill anymore. I…I haven’t had sex in a long time."

“Oh.” He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine, a flicker of something dark and primal flashing in them.

"Is that a problem?" he asks, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. “Because I don’t have a rubber on me. Wasn’t planning on this tonight.”

My breath stutters, my body trembling under the weight of his stare.

"Not a problem,” I whisper, my hands sliding down his chest, savoring the solid warmth beneath the smooth fabric of his jacket. My fingers trace over every ridge, every line, lower, lower, until I find him—hard, hot, and ready.

His sharp intake of breath is all the confirmation I need, and it sends a thrill through me, pooling heat low in my belly.

“Better that way. With you. Only like that with you...” I murmur, barely able to form the words as the electricity between us crackles.

His green eyes darken, his jaw tightening as his hand tangles in my hair, gripping just enough to make my pulse race. "Good,” he murmurs, his voice rough, raw. He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “Then show me. On your knees, Sinclair.”

The command rolls through me, melting every ounce of hesitation. I lower myself, my knees hitting the plush carpet as my gaze locks with his, his dominance steadying me in a way that feels far too addictive.

He watches, his chest rising and falling with every labored breath, his fingers deftly working his zipper. And when he frees himself, my breath catches.

He’s everything I remember. No—he’s more.

Thick, heavy, oversized, and already so hard, his length curves toward me like a challenge, daring me to see how farI’ll go to drive him crazy. My lips part, anticipation and desire flooding my senses as I lean in, my fingers wrapping around the base.

Griffin’s head tips back, a low growl escaping him as I press a slow, teasing kiss to the tip. His free hand braces against the desk behind him, his muscles taut, his control hanging by a thread.

“Fuck, Avery,” he groans, his voice strained, filled with an edge of desperation. “You have no idea how much I missed this. Missed you.”

Oh, but I do.

And I plan to ruin him completely.

Just like he did to me.

thirty-eight

. . .

Griffin

She sinks to her knees,and I swear the world tilts.

I’ve never seen anything so breathtaking, so utterly wrecking, as Avery Sinclair on her knees in front of me, her eyes locked onto mine, her hands sliding up my thighs.

You wore the dress.

The thought flickers through my mind, unbidden, as I take her in. And before I can stop myself, the words slip out.

"You wore the dress."

She glances up at me, her lips curving slightly. "You remember it?"

I let out a rough laugh, shaking my head. "I’ll never forget it."

And God help me, I won’t. That pink wrap dress, the one I couldn’t stop thinking about after Mexico, the one that clung to her like it was made for her.

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