Page 67 of Lessons in Heartbreak

My eyes fluttered shut, my breath coming in embarrassingly loud pants as I waited for theyetto turn into something else. It was a wordfilled with so much promise, wasn’t it? A vow of action that hung thick in the air between us.

With his hands braced on the wall on either side of my head, Griffin inhaled slowly, his nose brushing over the crown of my hair, his chest lightly brushing against my naked back.

For a few seconds—impossibly long and delicious—we stood there, simply breathing in the moment and letting it expand into something else. If he was waiting for me to pull away, he’d be waiting a long time.

“Please,” I whispered.

Griffin let out a rumbling groan, his hands curling into fists on the wall. One dropped down, and I stilled, the anticipation yanking goose bumps on my arms while I tried to guess where he’d touch me first.

My back.

The brush of one finger along my spine, like he was closing a zipper, following it all the way up, up, up, dancing over the clasp of my bra until he reached the base of my skull. For a brief, breathless moment, his hand curled possessively around my neck, his nose dragging along the edge of my ear while he held me anchored in place.

It was that firm hold that had me melting, forehead resting against the wall again. His hands coasted over my skin, one down my shoulder and along the length of my arm, the other following the line of my back until he ghosted his fingertips over the curve of my ribs.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his mouth brushing over my shoulder, laying soft kisses over the side of my neck.

I was holding his shirt so tight to my chest that I feared my fingers might snap, and no matter how badly my more rational brain screamed that I should do exactly that, my throat lost the ability to make sound, my tongue the capability of forming speech.

No, I didn’t want to tell him to stop.

And it was the first time in my life where I wanted to ignore all those responsible thoughts and good-girl tendencies and let this moment fray at all my usual impulses, my typical responses.

When I didn’t say anything, Griffin eased himself against me, his towering height and absurd muscles against my back in a way that had me pushing my hips against his.

He was hard.

So hard. And holy shit, so big.

His hands curled around the sides of my hips, tugging me back against him more firmly. “That’s it,” he groaned. “That’s how much I want you, baby.”

My eyelids fluttered shut at the nickname, that these mindless moments were the only time he allowed it to slip. I wanted to do so many things: Grip his wrist and push it down beneath the waistband of my shorts. Push it up and feel the blunt tips of his fingers pluck at my aching nipples.

I just wanted him to touch me, wanted to allow this moment to unspool into something bigger than both of us. Bigger than him and me and the whole blissful world that we’d constructed the last week. We were the only ones who existed in it, and I found a selfish satisfaction in that.

No one knew we were here. No one knew it was like this between us.

That he did this to me, and I did this to him.

Griffin licked at the line of my neck, nosing at my jaw until my head turned in his direction. His hips rocked against me, and he dipped at the knees, his hardness rolling between my backside in a way that had me whimpering helplessly.

The sound had him swearing into my skin, his hands demanding that I turn in his arms with firm, sure movements. The moment I did, he slid those hands underneath my ass and boosted me up against the wall, pressing me into place with his unyielding strength. My legs wrapped around his waist, my hands still clutching that shirt trapped uselessly against the wall of his chest while Griffin slanted his mouth over mine.

Chapter SixteenGriffin

Keeping your own strength under control is surprisingly difficult when you’re used to allowing your impulses free rein. On the field, it was my job to unleash it, to hit harder, run faster, to cause disruption by ripping into someone else’s space.

The foundation of my success was knowing exactly when to allow myself to tap into that ruthless energy that I kept locked inside. Never before had I worried that it might spill over into an interaction with a woman.

What a stupid, dry word for what this was.

It wasn’t an interaction—it was a revelation. And if I wasn’t careful, if I didn’t tighten my grip on my own control, I’d end up fucking Ruby straight through the concrete wall and leave us covered in rubble at the end. A sharp-toothed, clawing voice inside my head screamed with the need for it, to touch her more and kiss her harder and give us both more, more, more.

And even then, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough.

Echoing through the empty hallway was nothing but the sound of me kissing Ruby.

She made the sweetest little noises as I sucked her tongue into my mouth, spearing my hand into her silky hair while I rolled my hipsalong her center. Only the thinnest scraps of material separated us—her cotton shorts, whatever might be underneath them, and my own athletic shorts.

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