Page 45 of Taming Her

Ava wanted Griff to kiss her more than anything else in the world. Right now, that’s what she needed, his lips on hers, his arms tight around her. Not in chastisement, but a man who wanted a woman.

And he did want her.

She knew that.

“Griff,” she whispered, resting her hand on his bare chest. He hadn’t bothered with a t-shirt.

The heat of his skin on her palm sent a new wave of need rushing through her. It weakened her knees and she pressed her thighs together. A glut of lust warmed her blood.

They were here alone, both adults, what was stopping them from fucking… again.

“I’ll show you the boundary,” he said, stepping away.

“What?”

“The boundary. We border farmland.”

She stared at his wide shoulders, skin tanned and smooth, as he continued to walk down the path.

Quickly she followed, curling her toes to keep the shoes on, as they were a bit big.

After passing an out of control rhododendron, a variegated laurel with an early crop of berries, and a yew hedge that was blocking out the sun, the garden opened up.

Beyond a low wooden fence supporting a network of glossy leaved ivy, a huge golden field stretched into the distance.

“Wheat,” Griff said, curling his hand over the fence. “Another month and it will be harvested.”

The wind tickled over the surface like ribbons. “It’s pretty.”

He surveyed it. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“And it looks like your grandparents thought so too.” She nodded at a faded bench with cast-iron legs standing on a patch of overgrown lawn.

“They used to have a gin and tonic here, at sunset. A habit.”

“Nice habit.”

“Yes, for them.” He turned to her and set his hands on her shoulders. “It was the peace they liked; apart from the local farmer passing by once or twice a year, this place is deserted.”

“No one around.”

“Nope, no one around.” He dipped his head.

This is it. He’s going to kiss me.

His face came closer.

Her heart rate sped up. Anticipating his mouth on hers, she went onto her tiptoes only to be immediately pressed back to the flats of her feet. Then he kept on pressing her shoulders, forcing her lower down.

“Griff?”

“On your knees.” His voice was stern, that no-arguing tone he was fond of.

“But… what?”

“Don’t question me, Ava. Get. On. Your. Knees.”

She didn’t have much choice. He’d folded her down to the grass. She was face level with his groin.

---