Page 72 of The Rookie

OH.

My eyes snap open, and I pull back just slightly, my cheeks flaming.

“What?” Griffin asks, his voice rough, his lips still inches from mine.

I glance down reflexively—bad idea—and then back up at him, my heart slamming against my ribs. “You’re, um…”

His eyebrow arches, his mouth twitching into that infuriating smirk. “Hard to ignore?”

“Oh my god,” I mutter, covering my face with both hands, my cheeks burning like I’ve just sprinted through the desert.

But Griffin’s having none of it. He laughs softly—this low, rumbling sound that hits me square in the chest—and pries my hands away, lacing his fingers through mine as he pulls them gently back down.

“Relax, Sinclair,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, softer. “How many times must I tell you. It’s biology.”

“Biology doesn’t usually feel like that,” I mutter, refusing to meet his gaze.

He chuckles again, and I hate how much I love the sound of it. “What can I say? You’re distracting.”

Before I can fire back, his lips are on mine again, and this time, there’s nothing tentative about it.

It’s like a switch flips.

His hand moves to my hip under the water, his palm warm and firm against my bare skin, and he pulls me closer—closer than I should ever let him. My body, the traitor, follows, pressing against his chest as my fingers dig into his shoulders for balance.

His mouth moves against mine with this slow, deliberate rhythm that steals every coherent thought from my brain. I can’t think. I can’tbreathe.All I know is the feel of him—the slight scratch of his stubble against my skin, the way his hand skims up the curve of my waist, like he’s mapping every inch of me.

I shiver when his thumb brushes just under the band of my bra, teasing against my ribs.

When his other hand comes up, cradling the back of my neck as his thumb strokes my jaw, the last of my resolve snaps like a twig.

I kiss him back harder—fiercer—pouring years of pent-up frustration into the way my mouth moves against his. And he meets me halfway, groaning softly as his fingers flex on my hip, pulling me even closer until there’s no space left between us.

His body is solid and strong under my hands, all muscle and heat, andgod help me, I’m completely drowning in him.

Griffin breaks the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath ragged as he stares down at me through hooded eyes. “Avery…”

“Shut up,” I murmur, catching his bottom lip between my teeth before kissing him again.

That earns me a low, almost growl-like sound from him that I feel in every inch of my body. His hand slides lower, grazing the bare curve of my thigh under the water, and a shiver runs through me.

“You cold?” he murmurs against my lips, his voice thick and uneven.

“No,” I whisper back, my chest heaving.

He grins, but it’s different now—softer somehow, like I’ve knocked him just as off-kilter as I feel. “You sure?”

I nod, barely able to focus when his thumb skims up and down the side of my hip, like he can’t stop touching me.

We’re so close now I can feel the steady thump of his heart against mine, can feel his breathing match my own as we sit there, tangled together in the bubbling water. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the hot tub and the faint music drifting over from the hotel.

“This is stupid,” I murmur, not even sure I believe it.

Griffin’s lips quirk. “It’s definitely not smart.”

His hand tightens gently on my waist, and I feel him shift slightly under the water.

And, yeah—he’s still hard.

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