Page 20 of Mess With Me

I whip around to see Griffin, soaked but apparently unharmed. The firefighter gear is gone, and even as relief floods through me, hot and warm and throat-tightening all at once, I can’t help but notice I was right in remembering his size.

“You’re okay—” I begin, but he tips his head.

“Over here.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. “Make way,” he barks at the crowd. Even without the uniform, he commands authority. People jump back, parting like the Red Sea.

Griffin presses a broad hand to my lower back, guiding me toward a narrow alcove at the side of the building.

There’s a warmth spreading over my back at his touch, but I shove it away, focusing on the irritation I feel when he ignores me and leads me away. “He’s gone!” I say. “I saw him leave.”

“Why are you still here?” he demands, ignoring me again.

Anger flares in my chest, but it battles with the electricity shooting over my skin at the feel of his breath and the low rumble of his voice in my ear.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m getting turned on even now?

“Listen, I was making sureyouwere okay!” I snap as he tucks me into the alcove.

Griffin stands in front of me, his fingers at his hips. His jaw works hard. “Me?” He looks incredulous. “What would—” He grits his teeth. He’s not just his usual grumpy self.

He’s livid.

Anger shoots through me to match. I plant my hands on my hips. “Sorry for caring. You’re right. I should have left you.”

“He could have seen you again.”

“I was well hidden.”

“Were you? I found you just fine.”

I grit my teeth. “You know what? I’ve reached my limit of men who think they can grab me and tell me what to do.”

Griffin curses under his breath. “Let me see your hand.”

In all the excitement, I’d forgotten about my hand. Clearly so had he.

I hold it up, more for myself than for him.

There are angry welts forming where Vincent crushed me with that cruel grip.

“God dammit.” Griffin encircles my wrist with a tenderness that surprises me. Especially since his expression looks murderous. He holds my hand palm up and presses his fingers against my flesh.

Pain spasms through me with each soft press. “Ow!” I jerk my hand away.

He takes it back. “I’m not done.”

I let him prod, biting my cheek so I don’t cry out.

Finally he finishes, gently lowering my hand back down. “It’s not broken. But we still need to get you to a hospital. I’m going to call—”

“No!” I shake my head. “It’s not broken, so there’s nothing they can do. I was serious when I said I’ve reached my limit. Between you, Sam, and that fucking creep, I’m done for the year.”

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of exhaustion—the backside of all that adrenaline. I barely notice the dark cloud passing over Griffin’s face, presumably from being lumped in with the previous two. I slump against the wall of the alcove, but my ankle wobbles under me. I would go down, except Griffin’s got my arms in his hands.

Warm, big, rough hands that hold me up as easily as if I were a cardboard sign that’s toppling over.

“Creelman.”

“What?” I’m still distracted by his hands on my skin.

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