Page 52 of Blackwood

He squeezed me. “You didn’t really give me a choice there, Red. You ran.” He said it as if those two words explained everything.

“Hang on a sec.” I grinned. “You’re cuddling. This is cuddling.”

He shrugged, sending a small wave sloshing over the tub’s edge and slapping into the tile floor. “You make me do things that don’t make sense.”

I traced my fingertips around the barbell in his dusky nipple. “Like what?”

“Like cooking, like playing doctor without any of the pervy benefits, like cuddling, like not using a condom, or like taking baths with an angel in my arms.”

If I weren’t already melted, his words would have done me in. “Smooth talker.”

He laughed, the water trembling. “That’s the thing, I’m not. You’ve done this to me.”

“I like it.”

“Of course you do.” He shook his head, his beard whispering against my hair. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I want you warm and in bed with me.”

“Cuddling?” I grinned up at him.

He smirked and ran his hand between my legs. “Something like that.”

Chapter Nineteen

“That word is misspelled.”I peered over Garrett’s shoulder at the book he was working on. The text had been written in a harshly slanting hand, each letter seeming to lean on the next for support.

“This is a seventeenth century manuscript that once graced the shelves of the largest monastery still standing in Britain.” He dropped his quill into the ink pot, spun in his chair, and dragged me into his lap. “I think they knew what they were doing.”

He pressed his lips to my neck as thunder rumbled outside. The weekend had arrived cold and wet. Ever since our time in the woods the previous day, Garrett and I hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other. I had no doubt the worries about my father were waiting for me on the front porch, ready to pounce once I left the comfortable cocoon of Garrett’s arms. So I staved them off and planned on restarting the survey Monday morning.

“Where’d you go?” He stared into my eyes and cleared a few strands of hair from my forehead.

“Nowhere.” I smiled and kissed him. “Just here with you.”

He slid a hand under my shirt and up my back. Kissing down to my throat, he ran his teeth along my skin and sent goose bumps shooting down my arms.

“Is that your ink hand?” I wriggled against the hand at my back.

“Yep.” He sucked my jugular.

I tried to lean away from his grip, but he held on tighter. After our time in the woods, I learned the quickest way to get close to him was to push away.

He used his other hand to yank my tank top down. His hot mouth pressed against my nipple, and my breath hitched as he rubbed the flat of his tongue along the stiff peak.

“Garrett.” I ran my hands through his hair and gripped the strands as he leaned me back, holding me at his mercy. He sucked and bit my bare nipple before trading up for the one still imprisoned behind the fabric of my top.

Kissing back to my mouth, he murmured, “You taste good enough to eat.”

He claimed my mouth with a roughness that spoke to some inner part of me. One that I had never considered, much less explored. I eased my hand down his shirt and stroked his hard cock through his jeans.

He groaned into my mouth and gripped my hair until I whimpered from the sting. Pain told me the game was starting, and I was eager to play.

“On your knees.” He pushed me to the floor, my knees hitting his rug as he kept a strong hold on my hair. “Do you want my cock?”

I licked my lips and stared up into his stormy eyes. “Please.”

“Fuck.” He dragged me closer until my face hovered above his belt buckle. “Take it out.”

I made quick work of his belt and button fly. When I flipped his boxers down, his cock pointed at my face.

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