Page 40 of Let Go My Gargoyle
He tugged off her panties and obligingly stroked her. She threw her head back and groaned.
“Lift your leg, baby,” he whispered before giving her earlobe a playful nip.
She flung her right leg over his and stretched out her left, widening herself, inviting him in, giving him full access to her body, her soul.
Okay, maybe he was imagining that last part.
Either way, he grabbed his dick, gave it a couple of strokes to ease the pressure a bit, and then he thrust, pushing into her while she lifted her ass and opened herself even more fully to him.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re almost too much for me to handle.”
But he tried. He tried his damnedest. He pumped into her, one hand tweaking a nipple while the other stroked between her legs. She reached up and grasped his hair, bunching it into her fist until it was almost painful. The entire time, she begged him to give her more.
More, and more, and more.
He gritted his teeth and willed his orgasm to hold off; he flicked her clit and nipped at the skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She arched, twisting her hand in his hair, and cried out, her inner muscles clamping down so tightly that they pulled his own climax out of him, milking him until he had nothing left.
On a gasping breath, he said, “That’s all I’ve got.”
“It’s perfect,” she said, sighing, and relaxing in his arms. Within moments, her breathing had become steady, her eyes were closed, and she’d fallen back asleep.
Not Griffin. He rolled onto his back and rested his hand on his stomach. And wished with all his might that his life had turned out differently.
That he wouldn’t have run into Sofia four years ago. Because if he hadn’t, he never would have given in and slept with her the first time. Which would have changed the trajectory of their second meeting.
Oliver would have assigned him to her protection, and he would have done his job, appropriately, as an unemotional gargoyle should. He would have successfully kept her safe from her brother. He would have won Oliver’s favor and proven his worth.
And he wouldn’t have fallen in love.
Chapter Fourteen
Sofia came awake as something—or someone—insistently shook her shoulder.
“Wake up, Sofia. I need to go.”
She blinked open her eyes. Griffin sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, looking down at her with an earnest expression on his face. She glanced at the French door leading outside. It wasn’t quite dark, but not full daylight either. She guessed it was shortly before dawn.
“Where?”
She watched as he lifted his gaze to the door as well. “I need to speak to Oliver.”
Of course. What else had she expected him to say?
She threw off the covers and snagged her robe, viciously tugging it over her arms and cinching the waist. “Why did you even come back?” she snapped.
His head drooped. If she weren’t so furious, she might feel sorry for him. Except he’d brought this on himself. He shouldn’t have come back. Gotten her hopes up.
And she shouldn’t have had any sort of expectations in the first place.
“Just go already.”
“I don’t want to leave you like this.”
She shoved him out of the way so she could climb out of bed. “Howdoyou want to leave me?”
“I…I don’t. But I have to.”
Nope. Her heart would not thaw. She would not feel a smidgen of…anything at all. Except anger. She needed to cling to the fury or she’d do something foolish like beg him to reconsider. And he’d just said he couldn’t.
