by Layne, Ivy
A nightgown was almost as good as naked.
No touching. Even half-drunk, I wasn’t that much of an asshole.
I wasn’t sober and Hope was sleeping. I hit the bathroom, standing under a cold shower, the icy water doing little to shock me sober and freeze my cock into dormancy.
I thought about crawling between the sheets. I would. Soon.
Instead, I poured myself two fingers of whiskey and took a position by the window, looking out over the sleeping city that had once been my home. The glass was cold against my shoulder, unable to reach deep enough to soothe the ache from tendons and ligaments not yet repaired.
I should sleep. Instead, I stood vigil—watching my city, watching my wife—as they both slept.
Saying goodbye to one and wondering what I was going to do with the other.
Eventually, whiskey gone and my body exhausted, I slid between the sheets beside Hope. I didn’t touch. Not on purpose. I fell asleep beside her, the scent of cinnamon and apples lulling me until my eyes fell shut and I drifted off. The sense of dislocation that had been dogging me since we arrived in Atlanta dissolved in the heat of the body beside me.
Chapter Nineteen
Griffen
I woke in the thin light of dawn to a warm weight across my chest and legs. Soft skin shifted under my hands, a kitten moan touching my ears as warm breath brushed my chest.
Fuck. I’d fallen asleep beside her, but I’d kept my hands to myself. I had absolutely kept my hands to myself.
Hope was another story. In her sleep, she must have rolled into me, snuggling close until she was draped across me.
I thought about getting up, slipping from beneath her sleeping form and escaping into the bathroom. I could get dressed and head into the office before Hope had any idea she’d been wrapped around me, her cheek to my chest, one leg slung over my hips. She shifted, her thigh brushing my hard cock, and I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
My hands came up to cup her ass, barely covered by a white cotton nightgown. She was more lean than she was curves, but she still filled my hands nicely. Every part of me approved. Wanted more. Still mostly asleep, she stretched up, her mouth brushing my skin. Fingers sinking into her flesh, I shifted her over me, raising her just enough for my mouth to take hers.
She woke and went still as she realized where she was. The slightest hesitation—Would she leave? Was she going to run?—and then her mouth opened to mine, her tongue darting out to stroke mine, and all thoughts of letting her go evaporated.
I rolled, pinning Hope beneath me, settling between her spread legs, rocking my erection into the heat of her as her dazed eyes searched for mine. Her arms wound around my neck, holding on, her lips parting.
Don’t tell me to stop, I silently prayed.
I would if she asked. In that moment, I thought I’d do anything if she just asked.
Those pink lips fell apart, but she didn’t say a word. She arched her neck, lifting her mouth, her eyes hot and inviting. She was half asleep, turned on, and too innocent to have any idea what I was thinking. What I wanted.
I wasn’t going to take advantage, but we had to start somewhere. She was mine. I didn’t care about the will. Not here. Not in this bed with Hope’s warm, soft body under mine, her mouth moving with a greed I don’t think she understood. She wanted me.
Why did that hit me so deep? With everything swirling around us, why did it matter so much? She’d wanted me years before. She’d been a child. In a lot of ways, so had I. There were no children here. I’d lived a lifetime since the last time I’d seen her. So had she.
For all her innocence, Hope was a woman grown, and she was my wife.
I kissed her slowly. Deep, drugging kisses. Nothing that would scare her. I wasn’t going to rush. I just wanted more. Her heart thundered under my hand as I cupped her breast, the slight curve fitting neatly in my palm. Her nipple beaded at my touch. Hooking my fingers in the strap of her nightgown, I pulled it down, baring her skin, and closed my mouth over her.
A moan slid from her, a little desperate and edged with need. She went stiff beneath my sucking mouth. I didn’t stop, but every cell in my body was alert to the slightest indication she wanted me to.
A push on my shoulder, a sound of hesitation, and I’d end this.
Like the day before, she trembled under my touch. Unlike the day before, I didn’t let her go. I didn’t soothe her down. I sucked harder at that sweet nipple, savoring every gasp, every moan, the pounding of her heart and the strain of her muscles.
Needing more, needing all of her, I pushed aside her nightgown and moved to her other breast, cupping it in my hand, plumping it for my mouth as my lips closed around her.
Her gasp set me on fire. Slowly, giving her time to stop me, my fingers trailed over her ribs, her soft belly, the curve of her hip until they found the heat between her legs.
She was wet. So fucking wet. I could feel it even before I nudged her panties aside. At the touch of my fingertip, she jerked, her eyes flying wide with shock. Fear? Or pleasure?
With a final, lingering swipe of my tongue, I released her breast, propping myself up on one elbow and working my finger against her. Her pupils were dilated, cheeks flushed, breath coming in short pants. My lips brushed over hers, tasting her rising pleasure.
I needed to see her come. I needed to make her come. For me. I had to have that from her. To know I’d given it to her.
I needed her to know I could give her something good. Something that was just for her. Fuck the rest of it. My family, the will, her uncle, the house. Fuck them all. I needed to give her this.
I couldn’t find any words. I kissed her, absorbing every little sound she made as I sank one finger deep into her slick, tight heat. Little begging growls in her throat, her mouth attacking mine, our kiss an anchor as waves of pleasure dragged her under. I wanted to spread her legs wide, to drop between them and put my mouth on her. To suck her clit like I’d sucked her breast.
I also didn’t want to give her a stroke. Later, I’d get my mouth on her later. For now, I drove a second finger beside the first and ground the heel of my palm into her clit. Her hips rocked, her body knowing what it needed even if her mind was drowning. She rode my hand, sucking my tongue, wild beneath me as her orgasm broke.
I pulled my mouth from hers. I wanted to watch. Her eyes, those warm cognac eyes, flew wide with disbelief as her pleasure crested and crashed through her, dragging a keening sound from her throat.
Hope in orgasm was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Making her come once wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
I fought the urge to drive her up again. To give her more. To see that beauty spread over her face again. And again. I couldn’t let her go. Not yet. I kissed her. Soft. Gentle. Slid my hand from between her legs and rolled us, settling her on top of me.
With a sweet, languid sigh she relaxed into me, her heat branding my belly, nudging the tip of my cock. It would be so easy to push down my boxers, slide her panties out of the way and—
Not yet. Hope wasn’t ready for that.
Slowly, she came down from the high of orgasm, her body going stiff, her brain clicking into gear as she realized she was half-naked on top of me, realized my fingers had been inside her, that she’d come apart for me.
With a squeak of embarrassment, she moved to roll off of me. My arm clamped over her back, holding her in place.
“I’ve never done that before,” she confessed in a rush, her lips hot against my neck.
Shock spiked through me. Never? “Hope—I know you said you were a virgin but—you’ve never had an orgasm?”
She jerked in my arms, trying again to free herself. I wasn’t letting her go anywhere. I rolled us again, landing between her legs, the length of my erection solid against her soft heat, wanting more than anything to get inside.
I framed her fa
ce with my hands, chasing her eyes with mine. “Really?”
Her eyes glued to my shoulder, she mumbled, “Not with someone else.”
I couldn’t stop a groan at the picture that invaded my head. Hope naked, one hand between her legs, the other cupping her breast, working her clit as she pinched her nipple and moaned my name.
My hips jerked against her. It took every ounce of control I had to stay where I was. Fucking hell. Fucking, fucking hell. I had to see that. Not today. Not for a while, probably. But eventually. Fuck yes. For now—
“Do you want to do it again?”
Her eyes went so wide I thought they’d pop out of her head. I hadn’t expected to laugh, but her shocked look was so adorable I couldn’t do anything else.
“Again?” She shifted beneath me and froze, suddenly aware of my erection. “But you, don’t you want me to—?”
So fucking adorable.
I almost said it, but I didn’t think she’d find the situation as cute as I did. Pissing her off was the last thing I wanted. Not now that I’d had her. Hot, wild, giving me everything.
Hope was wound up so tight most of the time, but when I got my hands on her, she was all mine.
“Next time, Buttercup. This time was all for you.”
“But, don’t you—” Her teeth sank into her lip. “I don’t know what to do. I mean, I do, but I—” She squeezed her eyes shut.
Fucking adorable, but I had to put her out of her misery. When I was a teenager, skill and experience had been a turn on. Skill and experience could always be a turn on, but I’d learned they weren’t necessary. Not in the face of Hope’s brand of honest passion. I didn’t need technique. I didn’t need her to know what she was doing. I just needed Hope.
“Not this time. Next time I’ll show you what to do. For now, I’d better get in the shower and down to the office before Cooper and the guys come looking for me. I’ll make coffee. You can sleep a little longer. Alice won’t be here for an hour or two.”
I rolled off the bed, not missing the flash of skin as Hope scrambled to pull up the sheet. I wanted to count every freckle. Her eyes scanned me, jumping away after they landed on my cock comically distending the front of my boxers. Her teeth sank into her lip again, her cheeks so pink.
Eventually, she’d get used to this. As far as I was concerned, she could take her time.
Eyes squeezed shut, she said, “I don’t need you to buy me clothes.”
“Hope, look at me.” Her gaze fixed studiously on my face. Fighting a grin, I said, “I need to buy you clothes.”
Her eyes got squinty. “Because you don’t want to see my ugly suits?”
“Do you want to wear those suits? Honestly? If you could wear anything you wanted, that’s what you’d pick? Because if you really like them, wear them. Go out with Alice, take my credit card and buy ten more.”
“I don’t get it. I don’t know what you want.”
“I want you to be happy,” I said. “I want you to be Hope. I want you to pick clothes you like. Because they make you feel good. Not because you think I like them or they’re appropriate. Fuck appropriate. Fuck what anyone else likes. I can’t set you free, Hope. I can’t change the past. There are so many things I can’t do for you. But I have money, and I can do this. Alice loves to shop and she loves clothes. She’s also fun, and loyal, and a great friend. Let her take you shopping. Let me do this.”
Hope stared back at me, clearly still confused, but she nodded her head. I disappeared into the bathroom and started the shower. The second I stood under the hot spray, I closed my soapy hand around my cock and squeezed, starting a slow rhythm, water beating down on the top of my head, my brain filled with the memory of Hope’s orgasm.
The heat of her squeezing my fingers. The taste of her skin. I haven’t come that fast since I was a teenager. If I hadn’t needed to get to a meeting I could have done it again before the hot water ran out, just thinking about Hope moving beneath me, lost in pleasure.
Chapter Twenty
Hope
I pretended to sleep until Griffen quietly let himself out of the apartment. Cowardly, I know, but I needed a timeout. I’d had no idea. No clue. I couldn’t believe I told Griffen I’d never done that with anyone else. I was thirty-one years old, for God’s sake.
So embarrassing, and still not as embarrassing as admitting I’d made myself come. He wasn’t even here and I had to squeeze my eyes shut at the thought. I blamed post-orgasm insanity.
Nothing I’d ever done at night under my covers bore any resemblance to what had happened in that bed with Griffen. Not even close.
When Harvey said it had to be real, when I knew I’d have to have sex with Griffen, I’d been half-terrified. The other half of me had been an unruly combination of aroused and excited and intrigued and giddy. But the overwhelming emotion was terror.
Griffen had been a player when I was a teenager. Calling him experienced didn’t really cover it.
Everything I knew about sex came from romance novels and rom-coms. Comparing that to what Griffen knew—we weren’t even close.
I took a quick shower, ignoring the light rash of beard burn on my breasts and the tenderness between my legs. I didn’t know what I was doing with Griffen, but I knew I wanted more. I found a robe on the back of the bathroom door and slipped into it, needing coffee before I thought about getting dressed.
I was luxuriating in that first hot, bitter sip when a quick rap sounded on the front door and it swung open. I jumped, barely managing to avoid spilling the coffee all over my robe.
A woman poked her head in, her dark hair cut in a short bob, bangs a straight line across her forehead. Alice. She’d walked me back to Griffen’s office when I’d come to tell him about Prentice’s death and the will. Had it only been four days ago? It felt like a lifetime.
Alice entered, shutting the door behind her, a smile spreading across her face as her eyes landed on me. “Hi, Hope. I’m Alice. We met a few days ago, but I don’t know if you remember. Sorry to barge in on you. The boys are all locked up in the conference room going over security plans for your castle. Did Griffen feed you? I know a great breakfast place if you’re hungry.”
Her smile was so genuine I couldn’t help but smile back. “It was a crazy day, but I remember you, Alice. It’s good to see you again. I’d love breakfast if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes. I just have to get dressed.”
“Perfect. I want to see what you brought. Is the shopping really that bad in Sawyers Bend?”
I looked at Alice for a long moment, weighing my answer. Sawyers Bend wasn’t overrun with options for women’s clothing unless you’re looking for a good pair of hiking pants. Outdoor gear we had. Dresses and suits? Not so much. I could just say the shopping was really that bad and leave it at that. It wouldn’t be a lie.
I thought about what Griffen had said. That Alice was loyal and a good friend.
“The shopping isn’t great,” I admitted, “but the real problem is that I’ve been working for my uncle for the last—” I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “For forever. He has horrible taste in clothes, but he thinks mine is worse. He badgered me into letting him buy my wardrobe. It was easier to give in. But I’m not working for him now, and Griffen said he doesn’t care what I wear as long as I like it.”
Alice’s grin spread wider. “And if he’s paying…” She shot me a wink.
I shrugged and grinned back. “It seems to mean a lot to him, so I figure we might as well let him have his way.”
Alice placed her hands on her hips and scanned me from head to toe. I tried not to squirm under her sharp gaze. Instead, I scanned her back. She was small, the top of her head even with my shoulder, her bones tiny, reminding me of a pixie. Delicate but packed with energy.
I got what Griffen meant when he said she knew how to shop. She must because her sense of style was unique, and it was
clear she’d spent time putting it together. She wore a long-sleeve boatneck dress in kelly green with a fitted bodice and full knee-length skirt. I thought I caught sight of a crinoline under the skirt.
The look was modern and 50’s at the same time. Fun and pretty. Her style wasn’t mine. I didn’t want to draw attention the way I was sure Alice did, but I’d love to find something that suited me the way her dress suited her.
Done with her study, Alice gave me a nod and said, “Lay out everything you brought on the bed.”
Tightening the belt of my robe, I did as she asked. Aside from the red dress Griffen had talked me into wearing, I was looking at a sea of boring. Khaki. Black. Beige. Boxy cuts. Bland fabrics. Alice walked around the bed looking at everything, shaking her head in silence. On her second pass, she picked up three items. The red dress, the jeans Griffen had liked, and a gray cashmere sweater with fitted sleeves and a cowl neck. The only things I’d brought that I truly liked.
“Do you like these three?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
Alice glanced at what remained on the bed. “Anything I missed that you like? Even if you’re not crazy about the color or the fabric, anything that’s really comfortable or you think makes you look good?”
That was an easy answer. I shook my head. “No. To be honest, I haven’t really put much thought into my clothes. I don’t have that much to work with,” I said, making a vague gesture at my curveless body and neutral coloring.
“There wasn’t really anyone to show off for, and my uncle was so—” I searched for a nice way to describe his constant criticisms. Nothing was ever good enough for Uncle Edgar. Definitely not me.
Alice’s eyes warmed with sympathy. “Get that out of your head. You have plenty to work with. I’d kill for your height, for one. A good bra can give you curves, but there aren’t any heels made that can make me as tall as you are.”
“Then maybe I need a new bra,” I mused, thinking about what she’d said. I hadn’t done a lot of lingerie shopping. I hadn’t done a lot of shopping at all.
