Page 7 of Instant Heat
Or that damn accent.
Did he even know it got thicker in the throes of passion? At some point, it'd sounded like the man had been making reverent promises to me in his mother tongue.
Oh, what a tongue.
Shaking my head, I slipped from the bed and went in search of my clothes. As I donned item after item, I kept my gaze on Griffin's sleeping form. This was supposed to be a one-night-stand, but I already felt some strange connection to this man. The thought of never seeing him again didn't sit quite right with me.
Which was, of course, utterly stupid.
Just as I closed the snap of my jeans, my phone vibrated from my back pocket. My entire body jerked, and it took all the effort I could muster not to curse out loud and accidentally wake the Irish sex god.
Clutching my chest, I pulled out my phone. My brother's name flashed in big bold letters. Scrunching up my nose, I sent him to voicemail before shoving the phone back into my pocket. But not before seeing seven missed calls.
Seven.
Yeah, Thatcher was definitely taking his role as the protective big brother way too seriously. It wasn't like I didn't appreciate him looking out for me. Sometimes it was just a bit too much.
He'd turned into a helicopter mom hellbent on keeping me from making silly mistakes… again. With a sharp shake of my head, I tip-toed to the bed. Griffin was still fast asleep.
Crawling in next to him was so damn tempting, but I couldn't. Because as Thatcher liked to remind me, I had a tendency to fall fast and hard. It'd happened with Rob and every boyfriend I'd had before him too.
Still staring at the beautiful man sprawled on the bed, I brought my hand up and pressed my palm between my breasts.This feels different, though.
No! Just because the man kissed like he was put on this earth to do only that or because he could deliver orgasms like it was his job, didn't mean whatever the heck I was feeling was different.
It was a sex high. Yes, that's it. My emotions were running high because my hormones needed time to stabilize. Feeling much better now that I had an explanation for the butterflies in my belly and the steady current rolling over my skin, I gave Griffin one more longing look before slowly walking backward out of the room.
Since I'd been too preoccupied when we arrived, I only now noticed whose house this was. Donald and Leah Kruger. After the Fire Chief retired almost two years ago, he and his wife had decided to spend their time traveling around the world.
As far as I knew, they never sold their house because they always made their way back to West Kirksin for the holidays. They also never had kids. So how the heck did they know an Irishman from who-knew-where?
My gaze skittered over the gray couch covered with yellow and lime green scatter cushions before landing on a stack of boxes next to the door. Unable to resist, I moved closer. They hadn't even been opened yet.
When exactly did Griffin blow into town and from where? The man was all kinds of intriguing and I had this overwhelming feeling that I needed to know more. Without too much overthinking, I marched to the kitchen and grabbed the notepad stuck against the fridge door.
***
"Where the hell have you been?"
I startled at the sound of Thatch's angry voice. Both hands flew to my chest, pressing hard against my racing heart. Spinning on my heel, I leveled the idiot with a stare."What the hell?"
I was positive if an intruder walked in right this second, they'd turn and run in the opposite direction. My asshat brother wasthatscary looking, with his legs spread wide and his bulging biceps crossed over an even bigger chest.
To me, he just looked ridiculous.
"I was worried sick, Rae. You didn't answer any of my calls."
He sounded so much like our mother in that moment, I almost laughed. Almost. Our parents died in a robbery gone wrong six years ago. Thatch had barely graduated while I was still making my way through school.
The responsibility of being a parent was thrown onto him before he'd even had time to live his life. He'd taken it in his stride. Never complaining. I actually kind of got the idea he'd liked the feeling of being needed.
It was why I still hadn't moved out of the house our parents had left us.
"I was busy, okay?" I pushed past the six-foot-four wall in my way and padded to the kitchen where I grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. As I gulped down the zesty liquid, I heard my brother enter.
"Busy with what?" he practically growled.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He was just worried about me; I knew this. If our situations had been reversed, I'd probably do the same thing. But they weren't, and right now, Thatch was smothering me with his over-protectiveness.
