Page 97 of Bitter Lies

Is it because of David or something else? Fuck, I’m so confused and frankly still a little turned on, which means being under his arm and next to his achingly beautiful chest isn’t helping.

But my efforts to pull away are stymied when Griffin just pulls me closer and mutters, “Relax.”

I should be annoyed he essentially stepped between David and me, but I can’t concentrate on anything but the pulse in my core and my blood rushing through my veins on waves of fire.

He may be a world-class jerk, but he lights me up so easily, it’s not hard to make me beg, although at least I resisted the last time, except right now, I’m the one being punished.

After a few hundred feet, we emerge through the trees to a sharp cliff that overlooks the lake below, and Jason is before us, pulling off his shirt as he stands at the edge to jump over.

Is it a sin to hope he hits his head and suffers permanent damage? Oh well, I think I’m going to hell anyway—the dick might as well meet me there.

All thoughts of which fade when Griffin pulls me toward the ledge and goes for my sweater, still tucked firmly around my shoulders. With horror, I step back and slap at his hands, saying, “No fucking way. I’m not jumping.”

His eyes light up with genuine amusement, causing a burning throb in my chest as he says, “When did you become such a pussy?”

Stepping out of his reach, I snap, “Asshole!”

But he just laughs and picks me up, and I’m mid-shriek when he jumps with me in his arms, only letting go when we hit the water. I’m pretty sure I screamed like a bitch the whole way down, but can you blame me? This is why when I hit the surface, I swallow a good dose of water, coming up with a spluttering cough and rage.

Glancing around, I spot Griffin emerge beside me with a wide grin, and I swim toward him quickly, my arms slicing through the water seamlessly. I’m just reaching him when he turns and spies me, smirking as I rush into his arms and crawl up his body.

Griffin laughs as I try to dunk him, but I’m so fucking mad the amusement only enrages me more. Fighting off his hands, I slap at his head, desperate to make him hurt. When he realizes I’m pissed, he picks me up off him quickly and throws me, and I swallow another dose of water but come up calmer.

Strangely, I think what Griffin did brought out a trauma-induced response because for a minute there, I wasn’t seeing him. No, I was seeing one of my rapists, as I struggled against their hands, holding me down and stifling me to keep me quiet. With the new dunking, that panic has faded away, and I’m still angry, but I’m not rabid.

“You calm now?” Griffin asks gruffly, grabbing me up from behind.

“Fuck off,” I say at his condescending tone.

Tightening his grip, he pulls me around a corner so we’re behind a rock and out of view before turning me around in his arms. For a minute, a single moment of weakness, I’m so caught up in the feel of his arms around me, I forget to be angry.

His sun-kissed chest gleams as it warms my cool skin, and his ginormous arms bulge around me as his erection brushes my core.

Oh.

Raising my eyes, I find him looking at me with a fiery stare, and my heart trips in my chest when one corner of his mouth pulls up in a sexy smirk, and he asks, “Still hurting, sweetheart?”

Huh? Oh. Fuck.

“Fuck off,” I say because apparently, they’re the only words I know around him.

“Hm,” he rumbles, pulling me tight against his chest and bucking into me with a groan.

“Griffin,” I say breathlessly, need surging through me wildly, as it always does around him.

“Mm, I know, sweet.”

Ignoring the pulse of warmth in my chest at his endearment, I comply when he pulls my wet sweatshirt off and sets it on the rock beside him with a plop before doing the same with my shorts and bikini bottoms.

Bobbing before him practically naked, I shudder heavily when he groans and pulls me up into his embrace before thrusting into me. And it’s so good, I cry out, to which he covers my mouth and sucks me down as he takes me to paradise, and I spasm around him.

“Fuck,” he moans, pulling away as he pumps into me desperately, chasing his own release.

It’s not by design, but someone comes around the corner, and he stops abruptly, leaning his head against mine as he breathes harshly and closes his eyes in frustration.

“Yo, stop fucking the bitch and let’s go,” whoever says.

“Fuck off!” he snaps, twitching inside me, and with a whimper, I meet his gaze, his eyes boring into mine with so much need that I spasm around him instinctively.

---