All the lights and computers flickered, a byproduct of his overworked magnetic biology. He flinched and looked at her with guilty eyes. “Sorry, that’s me.”
“Griffin,” Lilo said calmly. “While I appreciate the grand tour, I said I would give you ten minutes, and I meant it.”
She was an angry goddess in a blue dress, and he ached to make everything right, but how could he explain this passion burning him up inside, this ache to be near her, and the fear that he’d stuff it up, just like everything else. How could he tell her she was everything to him? That she was the very thing stopping him from going insane, just by being near?
“Okay,” he breathed. Grace said to be honest, and it was all he could do. After that, it would be up to Lilo. “I need to show you my room.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Is that some kind of line?”
“Line?”
“Pick-up line.”
“No! I swear I’m not… Lilo.” His fists opened and closed at his sides. “I swear, I just need to show you something. It will help explain.”
But, didn’t he want more?
Yes. He wanted everything she had to give, and that made him the greediest man of them all, because he wasn’t sorry.
The internal battle must have reflected in his eyes, because her own softened. “Okay. Take me there.”
And with her words, he felt like the wolf who ate Red Riding Hood.
A few minutes later, they walked down the hallway leading to his apartment. Try as he might, he couldn’t dispel the anxiety creeping up his spine. Would she call him a freak, a weirdo? Would she take one look at the mess which so reflected the state of his mind, and would she run… or—
“Griffin,” she murmured. “Are you okay?”
Eyes wide, he caught her gaze. “No.”
“It’s okay. Whatever it is in there, I can deal with it… unless it’s a dead body. Yeah, look. I’m not up for that, I’ll tell you right now. You know what? I don’t even think I’d like to see a place that used to hold dead bodies. You know, the kind that serial killers do their work in. You’re not a secret serial killer, are you? Oh my god, you wouldn’t even tell me if you were!” She bit her lip to stop the flow of words.
“It’s not a dead body. I’m not a serial killer.”
“Okay.” She relaxed. “Okay, I think I’m good then.”
He grimaced, hesitating.
“Griff,” she said. “You know the worst about me, don’t you?”
She must mean her family history. “Yes.”
“And?” she urged.
“And what?”
“Do you hate me for it?”
“No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not even close. You’re perfect. I trust you completely, it just took me a while to get out of my own head long enough to realize that. The only person who deserves hate is me, for leaving you in that stairwell.”
“Yeah, that was a pretty shitty thing to do, and I’m looking forward to the explanation.”
“I need to start at the beginning.”
He held out his wrist tattoo and told her everything. How his birth mother was able to isolate the genome sequence for greed and program his body to sense deadly levels in other people. How the sensing of the sin affected him mentally. How he’d tried to curb his greedy desires with his balance protocol, and how he was the only one of his siblings to keep the sin in check, and then finally, how she came into all of it. Her calming effect on his psyche, the confusion she brought, the power she triggered in him… When he was done, she stood there with eyes so wide and glazed, he thought maybe he’d broken her.
“Lilo?” he asked, afraid, because for once, he was the one rambling with no control over his words.
“I’m just… that’s a lot to take in.”
“There’s more.”
She blinked. “More?”
Here goes nothing.
“We trained for seven years around the world in the art of war,” he said, unlocking his apartment door. “It began when I was fifteen. It was brutal, humiliating, and exhausting. It pushed me to the limits of human capacity, and then some. They wanted to see me break, and… I almost made it the full seven years without breaking. I almost showed them, but I failed. I failed enough that I was lucky to get out of there alive.” He wanted to elaborate, to explain why he failed… his most shameful secret, but… not yet. “After I got home from the training, I created a protocol to keep my balance in check so my failure wouldn’t happen again. It worked perfectly, at least, I thought it did. So when I met you, I was rude because you threw my logical process into chaos. I was afraid of failing again. It took me hurting you in that stairwell to realize I was already failing, I was already broken.”
“Griff,” she said, emotion burning in her eyes. It looked like pity and Griffin hated it. She stepped closer. “You didn’t hurt me, hurt me. I mean, you hurt my feelings, but before that you were completely the opposite. You saved my life and… what do you mean, I threw your process into chaos?”
“Being in the same room as you, and breathing the same air, affects me. Touching you… sends my insides into chaos.”
“Um. In a good way?”
“It took me a while to see, but yes. In a very good way.”
Still confused, she rubbed her temples, eyes far too round for Griffin’s liking. He shoved open the door to his apartment, using his weight to push the fallen hoarded items out of the door’s trajectory.
When she followed inside, and the light came on, she stood still, staring at his collected junk. Piles and piles of teetering towers and spilled items filled his living room. Beyond, the kitchen was clean and bare, and through a far door he could see into his tidy bedroom. At least he’d had the presence of mind to keep those areas neat.
“I don’t understand. What am I looking at, Griffin?”
He swallowed. “Before I met you, my internal equilibrium would shift into the light if I went out and fought crime. It was a selfless act, you see, but the downside is that it ate away at my sanity. I learned many years ago that an unbalanced person with my combat skills would could be deadly.”
“Deadly.” She said the word as though testing it for taste.
“Yes.” Okay. Here goes. It’s now or never. She’s either going to run for the hills, or… Griffin took a deep breath. Time to spill my secrets. “Once, when I was on a mission with the SAS, I failed at being human.” Saying it out loud, the memories crashed back. He was back in that sandy camp in Afghanistan, laying on the hill cresting the enemy camp, surveilling the area with his comrade, James. James ribbed Griffin for the entire year block of his time with the unit. The soldier had it in for Griffin since they went through the selection course. James made snide sideways comments about Griffin’s sensitivity tendencies. He was an asshole, but James didn’t deserve to die.
To this day, Griffin believed he’d only gotten through the course because of his training in meditation thanks to his Shifu master in Kung Fu. Outwardly, it had seemed like he was calm and collected, but inside he’d been boiling.
He’d gotten through it because he’d had no choice, but it hadn’t been easy. Each of James’s insults built in pressure until that day on the hill. Griffin was fussing about, making sure they had all their equipment just right. Checking his sniper rifle, checking the wind, checking his uniform, his backup equipment.
Fucking weirdo, you checked that five times.
Because he was concerned it wouldn’t be enough.
His crew mate had picked at him the entire night. Griffin was nervous. He didn’t belong. He worried his one rifle wouldn’t be enough. He was out of balance. He knew it. All he could think while sitting up on that hill, watching the enemy, was that the man next to him had a better gun. A newer one that was more reliable, and more likely to shoot true. The greedy urge to take the weapon had bordered on obsessive. So when his friend opened his mouth to give him shit for the fifth time in a row, Griffin reached across and snapped his neck. Just like that. Then
he’d calmly switched rifles.
His sudden movement had notified the enemy, and before he knew it, they were upon him. Griffin couldn’t remember what happened after that. He’d blacked out completely. When he came too, he was covered in blood and gore and surrounded by dead bodies—both enemy and friendly.
Stand down. Stand down.
He could still hear his team shouting in his ears. But that wasn’t where the horror ended. His own team had questioned him… interrogated him. Tortured him. He still had the scars to prove it. They wanted to know if Griffin worked for the enemy. Did you kill our own? In the end, nobody could explain what happened. There was no proof. Nothing but the blood on Griffin’s hands. They put his blacking out to some kind of post traumatic stress, but he knew the truth. He was unbalanced.
Griffin tugged at his collar as he relayed the story to her, watching her grow increasingly wary with every word. “When I got back, I swore I’d never lose control again—that I’d keep my sin balanced, no matter what. I created a protocol to ensure that every time I did a dead of generosity, I’d commit an act of greed of equal weighting. As you can see, I stole to fulfill the greed portion of the protocol. It worked for a while, but then… well, this is the result.” He waved his hand at his mess. “I’ve told no one about this. Not even my family.”
“You’ve been carrying this burden alone for years?”
“It is a burden no one else should share.”
She stared at him for a moment, then lifted her brows and looked to the kitchen. “Do you have any alcohol in there?”
It was such a sudden change of pace that he jerked. “Um. Maybe something really old Tony left. Some vodka, I think. I don’t really drink.”
“Great.” She strode past him and began opening cupboards methodically until she found the glasses. “A little help here, Griff? Where’s the vodka?”
“Third cupboard on the bottom.”
She poured two big glasses and handed him one. “Drink it.”
He tipped the glass to look inside and flinched. The fumes burned his nostrils.
“I gave you a drink. Drink it,” she ordered, hands on hips. “It will help calm your nerves.”
So he shot it back and let it burn the back of his throat, forcing himself to hold the spasm down. When it was done, he found she’d done the same, except where his muscles were locking with tension, hers were melting and relaxing.
“Okay. I feel better now.” She shook her hands at her side. “Hang on. One more.”
She refilled their glasses and gave him eyes until he drank his, and she drank hers.
“I’m still confused, and my brain is going a million miles an hour.” She leaned against the kitchen island. She cast her eye over his living room. “But from where I’m standing, I don’t see stolen items. All I can see is how many people you’ve helped.”
He went to lean next to her. “But I took things that didn’t belong to me.”
“To balance out the fact you were saving lives.”
They stared at his modern metallic fridge. He could feel the iron atoms reach for him, but he ignored them, instead turning his attention to her at his side.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She shifted to face him side-on. Their eyes were inches apart.
Her body heat mixed with his and felt just as warming as the vodka. Her feminine scent climbed into his body and set hooks into him. There was a hint of soap, but that was all. It was enough to trigger his own body’s reaction, sending a surge of endorphins rushing through his system. He felt relaxed and aroused at the same time.
Wanting to get close to her, but not wanting to hurt her again, he gripped the stone bench.
“When I left you in that stairwell, I was afraid I’d already tipped my balance somehow. It was… a low point of my life. I was so ashamed for my actions. After doing so well to put your past behind you, you deserve someone better than me.”
“Do you really think that?”
“My life is forever steeped in crime. Being near me will always put you in danger.”
“But is that what you want? For me to not be with you?”
“Lilo.” His eyes fluttered from the force of his emotions. “I want you. All of you. Any way I can have you.”
She stared at her feet for a while, thinking.
“I get it,” she whispered. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m upset that you left me, but I get it. You didn’t want to hurt me intentionally, and… I forgive you. Just don’t do it again.” She added, pouting playfully, but then with a self-deprecating smile, dipped her head and shook it. “I’m an idiot. That was me trying to lighten the mood. Just tell me to shut up.”
He took a shuddering breath. “Thank you.”
“For shutting up?”
He laughed. “For forgiving me. And I will never do it again. I promise.”
At his laughter, she froze and stared at him until silence pounded between them.
“Lilo?” he tested, unsure.
“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” she murmured, and tugged his glasses from his face. “You don’t really need these, do you?”
He shook his head.
“I still have so many questions. Like, is Griffin your real name, and do all of your family have powers, and how come you got the metal moving ability, and where did it come from? Is it like an alien invention sort of thing, or are you from the future, or something crazy like that, and also, most of all”—she turned serious, eyes intense as her hand moved swiftly to the back of his neck in a firm grip—“what happens now… between us?”
He licked his lips and saw her do the same. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but was afraid… “Only one answer can take care of all our questions.”
She gasped and stepped back.
“You watched Casablanca,” she exclaimed.
“Three times.”
“Three times!”
“Correct.”
“Because of me?” Her hand fluttered to her throat.
“Yes. I want to know everything about you. I want to understand you.”
“Why?”
He thought back to that movie—to the main character and how he’d desperately wanted the woman to love him above all else, even if he wasn’t worthy. “Because I want you to love me.”
Lilo moved to stand in front of him. Her eyes were languid and heavy as she nudged his long legs apart to make room for her curvy body, and then she leaned into him until their foreheads met. Soft breasts pillowed against his chest, causing his heart rate to spike.
“I love how you’re being honest with me right now,” she whispered against his lips, “and I have to confess something in return. I want all of you too.”
But she didn’t kiss him. She rolled her face so their cheeks pressed.
Griffin tensed against the sensation, held his breath, shut his eyes, and focused on their connection, on his breathing. In. Out. In. His every awareness sky-rocketed. He groaned against the euphoria building in his system. The follicles on his scalp goose-bumped, his tongue buzzed, and out of everything she could have done to connect with him, this was the most arousing. With only her hand on his neck, her cheek against his, and her soft body leaning quietly against his front… she undid him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The low rumble coming from Griffin sounded pained and bursting with need. When Lilo felt the hard press of his desire against her stomach, she pushed back into him. God, he smelled good. Like everything manly all rolled into one. Better than blueberry bubblegum or the smell of baked cookies. She could rub herself all over him if he’d let her. She could breathe him in and it would hit her like warm whiskey. She could lick him to see if he tasted the same. Up that hard column of neck, along that square stubbly jaw, across to his hopeful lips.
Maybe she voiced her fantasies because tension locked his muscles tight.
It was then she realized he gripped the bench as though his life depended on it, and the crease between his brows was a deep canyon. A sheen
of sweat pebbled his top lip.
She pulled away, and his long lashes lifted to reveal eyes so dilated and black and full of yearning that her heart stuttered.
“I want you,” he rasped, voice low and heady.
“But…”
“It’s a process for me. Increased feelings and sensations make me unpredictable, and I don’t want you uncomfortable, or to put you in a position like last time”—he swallowed—“but I don’t want this to stop.”
“Make me uncomfortable… You mean like when you wouldn’t let me touch or see you.”
“And it frightened you.”
“You’re right; I was afraid. But that’s because I didn’t know you enough. I couldn’t see you, and I wasn’t in control. It reminded me of someone who treated me badly. I don’t like being told what to do. Not anymore.”
“Do you know me enough now?”
“You bared your soul to me.” It was the most obvious thing she could say. She trailed her finger over his scarred hand and arm. It broke her heart to think of him being tortured… by his own people. Of course she knew him. “I know you better than anyone else in your life knows you… and I’m honored by it.”
He bit his lip, and the bench creaked under his grip. “What if you’re in control?”
She smiled. He was determined all right. “That’s a big sacrifice for you to make.”
“You could take the lead,” he insisted. “I trust you. I want you to trust me too.”
A spear of hot desire arrowed between her legs as visions of him beneath her, naked and submitting, flashed before her eyes. It thrilled her, excited her, and scared her.
You’ll never be satisfied without me.
Donnie’s voice was as loud and clear as it had ever been, but she couldn’t let him rule her forever, not when this strong, beautiful hero had just laid his vulnerable heart on the line.
“How will I know what you like?” she mumbled. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”
“You’re what I like,” he rasped.
Shit. She was in love. Hopelessly falling in love like a complete idiot. Her eyes dropped to where his erection strained his pants, and her mouth went dry and her heart galloped. She looked to where he gripped the bench, wounded knuckles pinched white with strain. He was a warrior, despite his sensitivity. Despite this, and despite his dark urges, he still went out and saved lives even though it cost him a little of his soul each time. Even though he knew what deadly consequences ignoring his balance could do, he worked through it.
Greed Page 21
