Page 24 of Sniper's Pride

His hands were brisk, efficient, even impatient—but kind.

Mariah couldn’t remember the last time anyone had treated her with kindness.

“Why are you crying?”

He sounded harsh, but his thumb grazed over one cheekbone, and there was nothing harsh in the touch. It was more of that same shocking kindness and the faintscrape of his skin against hers. Then a gleaming bit of moisture he held out between them as evidence.

“I’m not crying,” she assured him with as much dignity as she could muster.

“Let’s get you to your room,” he said, and they were walking again.

His hand was wrapped around her upper arm, and once more, she relaxed into his grip. She let him guide her, laughing every time her legs couldn’t seem to follow directions. And laughing even more when he didn’t join in.

She watched in fascination as he punched a code into a keypad at the inn’s front door when they arrived, then had to concentrate ferociously to navigate the stairs that led up to her room.

“Where is your key?” Griffin asked her in a low voice when they stopped in front of a door. Mariah blinked, squinted, and only belatedly realized they were standing in front of her hotel room door. “The key, Mariah.”

She smiled up at him, tipping her head back. “You used my name. My actual name.”

He muttered a word that sounded like a curse, but she didn’t care about that because his hands were on her suddenly.

And she couldn’t say she minded that, either.

Though it was profoundly disappointing to realize, when he pulled the old-fashioned key from her vest pocket, that he’d been patting her down to find it. And not for any other, far more thrilling reason.

“Stay where you are,” he ordered her as he unlocked the door, then moved into the room ahead of her.

Mariah trailed after him, watching as he looked swiftly around the room. He opened up the closet door,checked under the bed and behind the curtains, and then ducked into the bathroom. Presumably to do the same.

She was half sitting, half leaning on the quilt at the end of her sleigh bed when he came out again, and for some reason, the cold stare he aimed at her made her giggle.

A lot.

“I told you to stay where you were. You’re drunk, I get it. But if you don’t follow directions, this isn’t going to work.”

“Okay.” She smiled at him again, her own giggles fading away. “Did I tell you that you’re beautiful?”

“You’re not going to remember any of this, are you?” he asked, but it didn’t sound like a question.

That gave Mariah another fantastic idea. “Really? Are you sure?”

“You probably shouldn’t sound so excited about the possibility of an alcoholic blackout.”

She waved a hand, but noticing it was in front of her instead of beside her where she’d expected it added an extra second or two. “Tonight is all about making bad decisions.”

He stayed where he was, still scowling, so Mariah shifted. She launched herself off the end of the bed and moved toward him, aware as she did that she was swaying on her own feet. She was dancing on those tables after all.

She unzipped her vest, then tossed it aside, laughing at her own boldness. Because she would never have dared make a mess like that in David’s house, where there was a place for everything, including her. Especially her.

She tried to take her fleece off, too, but got tangled init. She was laughing even more when she heard Griffin curse again, then felt his hands on her, setting her free.

She went with it, falling against him when he pulled the fleece off and tossed it.

Mariah could feel his perfectly sculpted chest beneath her hands, and if she leaned closer, she could crush her body against his.

That was even better.

“I’m already drunk,” she told him, tilting her head up because being this close to that gorgeous mouth made her head spin. More than it already was. “Drinking too much in that bar was step one. Everybody knows that step two is a drunken hookup. What’s that saying? The best way to get over a man is to get under another one?”

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