by Annie Rains
He took her hand in his, the feel of it like silk. He couldn’t help himself. He ran his thumb over the top of her hand as he held on to her. She had kissable, touchable skin that begged to be caressed. “Yes, we do, Miss Hunt.”
—
Griffin’s thumb on the back of her hand was all kinds of inspiring. Val felt like she was melting under his touch, and his gaze. She needed to get off this bench before she launched herself across the distance between them and let her inner romance writer take over.
“Well, looks like it’s going to rain.” She looked up at the dark clouds gathering in the sky. Afternoon storms were the norm during Seaside’s summers. Val loved a good shower. The sound of rain bouncing off the roof had always been enough to poke her muse and get her writing, ever since she was a young girl.
Griffin stood. “These storms spring up out of nowhere, don’t they? That doesn’t happen as much in California.”
Val shrugged, exhaling a soft breath as they moved apart. “I’ve lived here all my life. I’m used to them.”
She gathered Sweet Cheeks in her arms to clip on her leash while Griffin attached Trooper’s. They started walking quickly, out of the park’s gate and back toward her apartment on Main Street. As the sun disappeared behind the ever-darkening clouds, their steps quickened. Val had never minded being caught in the rain, but she was wearing a thin, white tank top at the moment.
“Good thing I drove my SUV instead of my bike this afternoon,” Griffin said. “Otherwise, I’d be hanging out at your place a little longer.”
“That would’ve been all right. It’s Taco Tuesday,” she said, trying to keep up with Sweet Cheeks’s lead.
“You have Taco Tuesday by yourself?” he asked.
Val shook her head. “Not usually. I usually meet up with Kat and Julie for Mexican food on Tuesday nights. With them out of town this summer, though, I’m carrying on the tradition by myself.”
“Taco Tuesdays should never be carried out alone. It’s like drinking alone. It shouldn’t happen.”
Val’s heart sped up as her steps slowed. She hadn’t exactly invited him to stay, but it sounded like he was going to. “Oh, yeah?”
“It’s a rule,” he said, the smallest smile spreading over his dark features. He had the beginning of a five o’clock shadow forming that was too damn sexy for words, which in her world was saying a lot.
“You strike me as a rule breaker.”
Griffin laughed. Val’s apartment was in sight now. “It’s just an appearance. Marines, by nature, follow the rules. We’re disciplined.”
“Good to know.” The first sprinkle hit the side of Val’s cheek. Then the second. “Uh-oh. Here comes the rain.” She started running ahead of him, very aware that she was wearing short knit shorts. It was either let him watch her run from behind or give him his own private wet T-shirt viewing.
Her front door was so close. She fidgeted with the set of keys in her pocket. The rain picked up and then fell in a heavy downpour. Crap. She scooped Sweet Cheeks up in one arm and shoved her key into the door’s lock. It sprang open and she pushed her way inside. Griffin followed a moment later, drenched himself. Dripping, they stared at one another for a heated moment. Then Val squealed as Trooper shook the wetness off his furry coat.
“Sorry about that,” Griffin said. “Do you have a towel? I’ll dry him off.” His gaze lowered to her own wet body. “We all need towels, actually.”
“I’ll grab some.” Val hurried down the hall toward her en suite bathroom. She took an extra moment to grab a dry shirt for herself, quickly changing into it before returning with the towels. When she returned, she stopped cold in her tracks. Griffin was standing bare-chested in her living room for the second time that week.
And good lawd. Taco Tuesday was about to get a little bit hotter.
Chapter 9
Val couldn’t take her eyes off all the bare-chested gorgeousness.
“I thought I’d put my shirt in your dryer,” Griffin said.
She nodded. “Good idea.” Her legs didn’t move, though. She wanted to touch the black ink of his eagle tattoo, trace it with her finger. Then her tongue. Wanted to touch his defined muscle and dig her nails in.
“It’s in there, right?” Griffin asked. “Is it okay if I just throw it in?”
“I’ll do it.” She stepped closer and took his shirt, forcing her gaze off him. “I like your tattoos,” she said, hoping that explained why she’d been staring. Or more accurately, drooling. “How many do you have?” she called as she walked into the laundry room off the side of the kitchen. “Tattoos, I mean?”
“I’ve lost count.” He was seated on her kitchen barstool when she reentered the kitchen.
“I wish I had another shirt to offer you.” Her voice trailed off because she was lying. She still had the shirt she’d cleaned for him last time, folded and waiting to give back. She preferred him shirtless right now, though.
“It’ll only need ten minutes in the dryer. I just didn’t want to be a wet mess at your dinner table.”
No, bare-chested perfection was much better. “Taco Tuesday,” she said, getting back to the task at hand. “I’m a pretty simple girl when it comes to doing it on my own. Just meat, lettuce, and cheese scooped into a hard shell. Next time I’ll have more choices.” Her gaze fluttered up. “Just in case I have guests like tonight. Not necessarily you.”
“Although if I’m going to be giving you and Sweet Cheeks lessons, I should definitely try to make them fall on Taco Tuesdays.” Griffin leaned his elbows forward on the kitchen counter. “Do you need help or can I just watch? I’m horrible in the kitchen.”
Val waved a hand. She was nervous. She didn’t bring men to her kitchen often—or ever. “You can just watch.” Her body burned as she said it and her mind went ahead and rolled right in the gutter where it’d been teetering.
She pulled the hamburger meat that she’d had thawing in the refrigerator out and got to work browning it in a pan. “Actually, I changed my mind.” Grabbing a grater and a block of cheese, she turned to him. “You can grate cheese. This takes more muscle than skill.” As if her eyes had a mind of their own, and she couldn’t control the direction of their wandering, she looked at his biceps. Watching him grate cheese should have an entry fee for sex-depraved women. Or any woman with two good eyes.
“I have to earn my keep, right?” he said, grabbing the orange-colored block and running it over the sharp holes of the grater.
He’d already earned his keep and then some as far as she was concerned. “Uh-huh.” She turned back to the sizzling pan on the stovetop, moving the meat around to cook it evenly. She opened a taco seasoning packet and added it in as she browned the meat. Fifteen minutes later, the meat was cooked and placed in a glass bowl, and the cheese was grated and placed in a smaller bowl. “Here’s a head of lettuce. You chop while I go grab your shirt,” Val said.
“Teamwork. I like it.” Griffin took hold of the knife she offered and started cutting into the head of lettuce on top of her wooden cutting board.
She slowed as she went to grab his shirt, considering possibly spilling something else on it. Instead, she pulled it out and held the warm fabric to her face for a brief moment, loving the feel and smell of clean laundry. And him. “Here you go,” she said, walking back into the kitchen.
“Thanks.” Griffin set his knife down and arranged his shirt to pull overhead. “You seem to like tattoos.”
Her gaze lifted again. Yeah, I’ve been staring. “I guess I do.”
“Do you have any?” he asked, his shirt pulled over his forearms, making his chest muscle bunch in front of him as he prepared to pull it over his head.
Val laughed. “No. No tattoos for me. I used to want a butterfly on my lower back like all my friends were getting in college.” She lifted a shoulder. “I think my father would’ve had a heart attack.”
“Do you do everything your father wants you to do?”
Val shook her head. “No, I usually do everythi
ng he doesn’t want me to do. That’s kind of the relationship we have.” She grabbed two plates from her cabinet and placed the shells in the center of the counter and one dish in front of herself and him. “My father has always had a way of looking at me during his sermons. Let’s say he’s talking about stealing or lying, not that I’m a thief or a liar, but if that’s what his sermon is about, every time he says ‘Thou shalt not steal’ or lie or whatever sin we shalt not do, he’ll look directly at me. As if I’m the biggest sinner in the bunch.” She scooped a large helping of meat into her taco shell and passed the bowl to him. Sprinkling cheese over the meat, she shook her head. “It’s nerve-wracking.”
“I get it,” Griffin said, preparing his taco. When he was done, he set the taco down and held out his hand to her.
“What are you doing?” Val looked down at his outstretched hand.
“Well, I might work with dogs, but I wasn’t raised by them. I noticed that you said grace before you ate with my mother the other day.”
She usually did. And placing her hand in his was too much to resist. She’d have to thank God for this later. Her hand slipped into his like a warm glove and she closed her eyes.
The room was silent for a long moment.
Griffin’s thumb ran over the back of her hand. “Are you going to say it?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“Grace. Would you like me to say it?”
She cracked an eye. “Do you know how?”
Griffin smiled at her and shut his eyes again. Then he proceeded to bless the food in a way that surprised her. “Amen. Let’s eat.” He reached for his taco with two hands and bit down.
She followed his lead. She’d pretty much follow him anywhere.
“Butterflies because all your friends have butterflies isn’t a good reason to get a tattoo,” Griffin said between bites. “If you’re going to get a tattoo, it should have meaning.”
She chewed, sitting beside him. “Do yours have meaning?”
“Every one of them. I have nine, by the way.”
“I thought you said you lost count.”
Griffin winked. “Nine tattoos is a lot. Little white lie. Your father can direct his sermon at me this Sunday.”
Val laughed. “That’d be nice for a change. So what does the eagle mean?” she asked.
Griffin set his taco down. “Freedom. I got it as soon as I left my mom’s house and joined the Marines.” He lifted his sleeve to show her a German shepherd’s face high on his deltoid. “Trooper.” Lowering his sleeve, he picked his taco up again. “When I found out about my mom’s condition, I went through a phase where I was adding new ink every chance I got. Just in case.” He bit into his taco again.
“In case of what?” Val asked, chills rolling over her body now.
“In case I need help remembering who I am one day.” He met her gaze for a long moment.
“You’re adopted. Even if the condition was hereditary, you aren’t blood related.”
“I know that. In my head. Makes me feel better to have my story pictographed on my body…What would a butterfly really say about you?”
Val shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. Which is why I’m glad I never got a tattoo.”
They ate for several minutes in silence, accompanied by the sound of the rain beating harder on her roof and outside her window. The summer shower was quickly becoming a full-blown storm.
Thunder cracked and Trooper nudged closer to Griffin’s leg.
“Is he afraid of thunder?” Val asked, glancing over at her small, wimpy dog in comparison, who seemed unconcerned by the noise.
“Spooked by loud, unexpected noises. Being deployed in a war zone does that to us all. I have a compression jacket for him at my place. It helps a lot during storms.” He patted Trooper’s head and whispered calming affirmations. The dog seemed to melt into his leg.
Val wanted to melt into his leg right now, too. “Anything I can do for him?” she asked.
Griffin had his arms around Trooper now, hugging him tightly. “Do you have any heavy blankets? The deep pressure is what helps him relax.”
“Sure.” She headed back through the house. She had a stack of heavy quilts in her bedroom closet. A moment later she returned to the living room holding one. “Here you go.”
Griffin took it and nudged Trooper to lie down. Keeping it folded in half, he laid it over the dog’s body. “He should be relaxed in about five minutes. No way I can take him outside until the storm is over, though.”
“Of course.” Val nodded. The only thing she’d be doing if they left was write, which she needed to be doing. After seeing Griffin with his shirt off, she was sure she could muster up some romantic scenes for her novel tonight.
She walked over to the couch and sat, letting Sweet Cheeks pounce on her thigh. Griffin’s gaze was heavy on her, watching her across the dimly lit living room. The rain pelted the roof all around them as they waited for the next boom of thunder. “Trooper’s been through a lot, huh?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.
“More than most dogs.” He nodded.
She took that to mean the same of Griffin. He’d been through a lot, too. She was sure some of those experiences were tattooed on him somewhere, which made her mind wonder where. She wanted to locate every memory that he had scribed on his body in ink.
After a moment, Griffin stood, leaving Trooper lying with his eyes closed on the floor.
“I really hope there’s no more thunder,” he whispered, sitting beside her. He had to sit close so that they could whisper and still hear one another over the symphony of rain.
Val angled her body toward him. “What should we do now?” she asked, her voice coming out huskier than she’d intended. She swallowed hard.
Griffin removed Sweet Cheeks from her lap and laid the little pup gently on the floor. “I have a few ideas.”
Val’s breath hitched in her chest, seeing the way he was looking at her. He was looking at her like a man who wanted to kiss her. His gaze dropped to her mouth, which opened for him. Traitorous mouth. Not that she didn’t want to kiss him. Kissing Griffin would feel good. Her gaze ran over the side of his cheek where he had new growth of hair. It was sexy and she wanted to feel it scraping against her own cheek. She inhaled deeply, waiting for thunder or a kiss.
He leaned closer, his hand bracing the weight of his body on the couch’s armrest behind her.
“Do you want to hear my ideas?” he asked, hovering only a couple inches from her face.
Her heart boomed louder than any thunder outside. Boom, boom, boom. “Okay,” she said. “Or you could just show me.”
A small smile lined his glorious mouth. “Talking about it increases the anticipation. It’s like when your parents take you to the fair. You’ve spent half the week talking about it, so when you finally get there it’s the most wonderful place on earth.”
With each word he seemed to lean closer until his body was touching hers. She was starting to wonder if they were talking about the same thing. Maybe her warped mind only went to kisses and touching now. Maybe he was just talking about training dogs. “The fair,” she repeated, meeting his dark, heated gaze.
“The fair,” he whispered back, finally leaning in and touching his lips to hers.
She latched onto his shirt, pulling herself into him hungrily. As she did, her mouth opened, inviting him where no one had been in a very long time. It was just a kiss, but her body had geared up to offer a full invitation.
His tongue swiped against hers, once, twice. She ran her hands down the sides of his chest, a little moan emitting from deep inside her. He leaned forward until she was laid back against the armrest and he was holding himself over her, pressing his body into hers.
It was hard to think. Her mind had slipped off somewhere into the distance and her body was in control. Except she felt out of control suddenly. He kissed the corner of her mouth, trailing his way down along her jawline, the side of her neck. Val closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him on her ski
n. It was wrong and very, very right all at once. She arched as his hands trailed along her ticklish sides. The movement sent her parts flush with his, and oh, love, his parts had an invitation of their own.
Her eyes flew open, meeting his. “Griffin,” she uttered, unsure of what her next word would be.
And then a crack of thunder shook her little apartment.
—
Tearing his body off Val’s was akin to scraping off his own skin. She felt good—too good. His cock was hard and pissed at the tease as he walked over to comfort Trooper. That last crack of thunder had him shaking again.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Griffin whispered, crouched uncomfortably with a huge problem between his legs. A few more minutes on the couch with Val and he’d have been inside her, his problems melting away with the heat generated between them. That would’ve been wrong, though. Wouldn’t it? He would’ve been using her, which wasn’t fair. A nice girl like Val deserved better.
He glanced back at her still on the couch. Her lips were swollen from their kiss. Her eyes were heated. Her hair mussed.
Fuck. His lower half surged with new blood, begging him to go back to that couch and finish what he’d started.
Conversation. He just needed to engage in meaningful, boring conversation. “So,” he said, his mind foggy like he was waking from a dream. “How long have you been running a book club at Seaside Harbor?”
Val pushed her hair out of her face. Even her smile was dripping in sex at the moment. “Since I was a little girl. My mother ran it back then and I’d go, too.” She shifted her legs under her on the couch. She was fortunate not to have a body part blocking her movement. “My mother and I loved doing that together. It’s one of my favorite childhood memories.”
She turned to look at him, probably wondering what the hell he was doing, kissing her like that and now talking about nursing homes.
“You’re amazing, you know that?…And you deserve better than this. Than me. I’m sorry,” he said, deciding directness was the only way to go. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
