Page 94 of A False Start
Her thighs shake as they wrap around my head, squeezing harder the closer I push her to orgasm. Every lick, every kiss, drives her toward the edge. Sometimes I press hard, then I’ll pull back and slow my licks, opting for a featherlight touch that makes her snarl at me in frustration.
I just smile and carry on, driving my girl wild.
There’s something about this moment that feels like a beginning and an ending all at once. Like everything is on the table and neither of us is sure what it all means. But I think we both know this thing between us is monumental.
When I drive two fingers into her, she screams my name and thrashes on the table. “Griffin! I’m going to come. Please don’t stop!”
Fucking right, you areis what I want to say, but she said don’t stop. And I don’t intend to. I push her harder until her entire body goes rigid around mine, legs clamping down and pussy pulsing in my mouth.
It’s fucking heaven.
When she finally goes soft, I stand and shuck my clothes off, watching her eyelids flutter as she struggles to catch her breath. She hasn’t even opened her eyes when I run the crown of my aching cock through her seam.
“Do you want my cock, Wildflower?” My voice rumbles through the quiet room as our eyes finally meet. She takes my breath away. Warm eyes. Rosy cheeks. Sated look on her face.
This is how she looks in my dreams. How she should look every day.
“I want...” Her throat works as she falls silent. Which is very unlike her. I figured she’d beg for cock like the adorable little vixen she is, but she finishes by saying, “I wantyou. All of you.”
And fuck me, that is so much more than I banked on. So much more than I deserve.
I slide into her with one firm thrust as I lean down over her body and claim her mouth, swallowing her whimpers and feeling the press of her lace bra and swollen breasts against my bare chest as her tight sheath milks my length.
“It’s not enough. More,” she murmurs against my lips, and I know she’s right. I want her closer. I want even more from her. More than she can reasonably give.
Reaching up, I tug the ropes off and sigh in relief when her arms wrap around me, holding me close. Her legs clamp around my waist, and my hips rock into her violently. The table makes a dull screeching sound with every hard thrust that drags it across the floor.
“I want this so badly,” she whispers, tangling her hands in my hair. We kiss each other frantically. Cheeks, chins, ears, throats—we cover each other in kisses as I pound into her with reckless abandon. Her back arches to meet every thrust.
“Me, too, Wildflower. Me, too.”
I push away the little voice in the back of my head that’s popped up to remind me that when I want something badly, it doesn’t work out.
I wanted a long, celebrated career. I wanted a marriage like my parents have.
Wanting this with Nadia is the kiss of death.
But I make love to her all day long anyway.
And later, while she sleeps, I pick up her journal and cross that off her to-do list for her.
32
Nadia
The closer Iget to Ruby Creek, the heavier the sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. Up in the mountains, everything feels right—just the two of us in a perfect little bubble having mind-blowing, toe-curling sex.
But down in the valley, reality sets in. I watch the bumper of Griffin’s truck in front of me as I follow him back to the ranch. Back to complications.
While we were holed up in his house, it felt like nothing could touch us. We spent the entire day and night tangled up together, only stopping to eat or bathe, both of which turned into more sex. We barely talked, we literally just disappeared into each other’s bodies. Hid there, where it was safe and felt good. Like we both knew if we came up for air, certain realities would come crashing back in.
School. Baggage. Divorce. Opinions. Sex tapes. Judgment.
It doesn’t bother me he’s fourteen years older than me, but I’m not stupid enough to think other people might not have opinions about our age gap. Not that they matter. I’ve never much cared what other people think of me, but the thought of anyone making Griffin out to be something he’s not makes me see red.
And beneath all the anger is sadness. I need to prove to myself I can do all the things I’ve ever wanted to accomplish. And what’s more is that Griffin does, too.
We turn onto the winding tree-lined driveway leading to the A-frame guesthouse at Gold Rush Ranch, but as I come around the last bend, I’m not met with an empty parking lot.
