Risking It All Page 8

  As their tongues entwined, battled, teased, the heat level went up, too. Now her lips melted onto his, soft as butter. Chloe’s whole body arched against him. Pushing. Rubbing. The woman all but climbed onto him. Her left leg wrapped around his right. One hand plucked at the back of his shirt repeatedly, until it was out of his waistband, which she then tunneled beneath to graze the top of his ass with her fingertips.

  That skin-on-skin connection zapped through him like a lightning bolt. Guess she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. And he did want her. He wanted to lay her down on that stone bench, with nothing but a few stray cherry blossoms as a cushion, and drive into her. Something about the mix of her enthusiastic passion and her almost innocent beauty drove him wild.

  So he deepened the kiss. Turned his head the other way for a fresh approach, to make sure he didn’t miss licking over a single nerve ending. Griff nipped at her wide bottom lip. Made another pass with his tongue around all of the steamy slickness inside her mouth. And swallowed every sexy little moan and pant that she gave up.

  A loud splash just beneath them jerked him back to reality. It was a damn seagull, still skidding his landing on the water as Griff looked over. But it was enough to break their crazed moment. Chloe’s leg slowly drifted back down the length of his. She pulled her hand out of the back of his pants. Griff put both hands beneath her arms. Lifted her high into the gray velvet of dusk and spun her in circles until she squealed, blossoms coating her hair like a veil.

  “All right.”

  “All right, what?” he asked as he set her down and straightened her scarf.

  “You’re forgiven for taking me out on a motorized death machine.”

  “All it took was one kiss?”

  “One long kiss,” she amended.

  “Wonder what I can get you to do once we get to second base?”

  Chapter 6

  Chloe believed certain things were meant to be done only once the sun had set. Drinking more than one glass of wine. Watching horror films. Ordering lingerie online. Since it was a month past the switch to daylight saving time, sunlight obnoxiously blazed through her windows at not quite five in the afternoon. Right when she wanted to shop for lacy little nothings that Griff could rip off her body with his teeth.

  Was it optimistic to buy fancy underwear after just one date? Yes. Foolhardy, some might say…and Chloe would be first in line to say it to anyone else. Especially with her last date having been more than four months ago. This stuff might not see the light of day very often. But this thing with Griff was taking off at Mach 1 speed. Hmmm. Maybe she should do a little research before trying to impress him with pilot-type lingo. Maybe Mach one wasn’t the fastest—maybe it was Mach ten. And the ignition of their chemistry definitely deserved to be classified as fast.

  Not that anything more than kisses had happened yet. She marched over to the teal drapes and yanked them shut. The air between them at dinner last night had sizzled like it was rolling off of asphalt in Death Valley. After, Griff walked her to her car, kissed her into a full five feet and seven inches of roiling need, and then after she got in, slapped the door panel in that nonsensical way men always did. That was it. No clothes removed, no bra unhooked with a flick of the wrist. But those kisses? An eleven on a scale that went up to only ten. They were the hottest she’d ever experienced.

  Now, Chloe lit the trio of pillar candles on the counter; and on the coffee table, the vanilla candle as big as a pumpkin; and the jar candle on her desk. Mood lighting was another necessity for online lingerie shopping. As was the sultry scrape of jazz she dialed up on her iPod.

  Geez, anyone walking in would think she was about to have sex, instead of spending the evening just planning for it! She looked down at her baby-blue tee and gray yoga pants with a rueful smile. Nope. In this outfit, nobody would believe actual sex was on the agenda.

  With the mood set, she dialed up the raciest lingerie site, as recommended by Summer. Aaaand promptly shut it back down after looking at the prices. Underwear—especially underwear she fervently hoped would be literally ripped off of her—shouldn’t cost more than half as much as her rent. The next site was more affordable, and not too slutty. It walked the line between hot and porn video shoot. Chloe got up to rummage for a corkscrew. Saw the daily text on her phone from her brother, David, and promptly ignored it. No way could she text him with underwear up on her screen.

  A knock on the door set her heart stuttering. She tiptoed to the peephole. Griffin tossed her a lazy salute.

  On a gasp, Chloe undid both locks and the chain and threw open the door. “Griff?”

  “Hey.” He did a double take at the opener still brandished in her left hand. “What were you going to do with that? Screw me to death?”

  Would it be wrong offering to at least try? See if she could screw him to maybe unconsciousness, instead? Heat flooded her cheeks. “Um, no.”

  Griff leveled a serious sneer at the implement in her hand. “As a first level of defense, it’s no good. You have to be too close to make it worthwhile. Here, come at me.”

  “What?”

  “This’ll be a valuable self-defense lesson. Try to screw me.” His eyebrows waggled in challenge.

  If only the yet-to-be-ordered lingerie were already here. She’d respond by whipping off her top, stun him with her lace-framed boobs, and then indeed screw him senseless. But for now Chloe settled for raising her arm and thrusting downward.

  Griff blocked her with his forearm before she arced down even an inch. Grabbed her wrist, spun it behind her, and twisted until she dropped the corkscrew, then used his other arm to pull her against his chest. They were locked, back to front. His hand splayed low on her hip, burning through the thin cotton pants. His arm a heavy pressure across her breast. And an already impossible to miss erection poked at the small of her back.

  “See? I’ve got you. Easy and fast, with zero warning.”

  Were all the double entendres planned? Was there any chance at all that Griff didn’t realize he was describing their burgeoning relationship, and not just a technique to disarm her?

  This was the problem with dating someone—like a crazy hot and brave pilot—who was waaaay out of her league. Everything took on a different meaning. Chloe wanted to call a time-out. Freeze Griff in position—because it was wonderful to be trapped against all that hard muscle—and call Summer for an emergency interpretation of the last two minutes.

  “Now what?” she asked, trying to infuse the question with sultry promise. Or would Griff think she was just asking how to actually get out of the armlock?

  “Now you’re giving me all sorts of ideas.” His voice lowered to a muted rumble, dark and scratchy like the stubble on his chin. Griff scraped along the rim of her ear with his teeth. Bit down on the lobe. Tugged. And sent uncountable chills racing through her body with that simple contact. It made her shimmy, which in turn earned her a thrust of his hips. The fact that Griff was out of her league, while indisputable, didn’t in any way change the surprising but wonderful and equally indisputable fact that he wanted her. “Ideas that shouldn’t be acted out in the hallway.”

  Using only the hand clamped at her hip, Griff lifted until her feet were off the ground and carried her into the apartment. The blatant show of strength made her nipples tighten in anticipation of all the other ways he’d be able to move her around. While they were naked.

  Once over the threshold, he put her down and released her. Every nerve ending thrumming, Chloe wasn’t sure what to do next. Keep opening the wine? Run into her bedroom, spin around like Wonder Woman, and hope that her outfit miraculously morphed into something skintight and sassy and that her hair floofed up?

  “Why are you here, Griffin?”

  “Well, I’d make a joke about how I’m currently suspended, bored off my ass, and couldn’t find anything better to do…but that went over like a lead balloon last time.”

  Chloe raised her right eyebrow in warning. “And would again.”

 
“Truth is, I wanted to see you.” He snaked out a hand to caress her cheek. “Our date ended too soon.”

  Tickled pink at his comment, Chloe nonetheless felt compelled to pick at the semantics of it. “Our date lasted almost six hours,” she corrected.

  “Like I said, too soon.” Griff leaned down. Tilted her chin up with a single finger. “If I’d called, I wouldn’t have gotten to do this.” He dropped a kiss at each corner of her mouth before brushing his lips over hers in a soft caress.

  “Excellent point.”

  While he gave her place a once-over, Griff took what she thought (based on a love of military movies that she might have watched just to see all the ripped abs) was an at-ease pose: legs widespread and hands clasped behind his back. “These are the least boring walls I’ve ever seen.”

  Her collection of vintage 1950s travel posters crowded up against photo travel posters from the eighties, edge to edge from the kitchen to the living room. Chloe had been collecting them since high school. Back then, they were places she’d hoped to travel to someday. Now the posters were a collection of places she only imagined herself in, but was content with the dream.

  Plus, you couldn’t contract malaria from staring at a poster. Or get mugged by a man on a scooter zipping around one of Italy’s impossible traffic circles. Safer to stay at home and let her imagination run its course. Or so her mother always, always told her, with a note of panic coloring her voice.

  Would Griff think they were weird? Massive overkill? Like the people who hung shelf after shelf of glass and ceramic turtles or pigs? She pulled another wineglass out of the cabinet. “Plain walls feel institutional to me.”

  “No explanation necessary. Every time I blink, I’m in another country. It’s cool. Have you been to all these places?”

  “Not a one.”

  Two steps brought him to the edge of the cool gray granite. Leaning across it, Griffin squinted at her. “You mean all but one?”

  Aack. All kinds of awkward. Griff’s job, his everyday routine, was to escape into the clouds. Could someone who lived for that freedom understand her…well, satisfaction was far too strong a word. Contentment came closer, although still far overstated the matter. Her contentment at being cozily tucked inside the same four walls. That described some nights. Just not the ones where contentment felt more like resignation…and sometimes even confinement.

  “No.” She waved a hand at him. “Go ahead and mock, but I don’t even have a passport. The farthest I’ve ever traveled was a trip to Disney World to celebrate my eighth-grade promotion.”

  “Chloe, there’s a whole big world out there.”

  “Which is why I enjoy looking at it from in here.” She tried to infuse a note of firm finality into her voice, to indicate the debate was over. “Would you like some wine?” At his hesitation, she continued. “I’m having some, and if you have a glass, it won’t feel as weird.”

  “One glass. I’ve got a meeting in a while. I may or may not have to make a good impression.”

  “About your suspension?”

  Griff huffed out a breath. Scrubbed his hand across the top of his head. “No, there’s no getting around that. This is something else. Something, ah, unexpected.”

  “You won the lottery, and you’re going to be presented with one of those checks that are bigger than this counter?”

  “Wouldn’t my CO hate the hell out of that? He orders me to stay out of the news cycle, and I show up at lottery headquarters to do a press conference?” Griff shook his head. “I’d be suspended all over again.”

  “On the other hand, you’d be a zillionaire. That’d tip the balance back into the plus column, wouldn’t it?”

  “No. Yeah, it’d be fun to go buy a kick-ass car. Or spend a couple of weeks zooming around Europe in a convertible. But then I’d be done. Bored. I didn’t join the Coast Guard to make money or punch a time clock to retirement. I get up every day to make a difference. To save people. Winning the lottery wouldn’t dull that need. And I couldn’t be that selfish.”

  “That’s really, really admirable, Griff.”

  “No big deal. You do what you’re good at, right? I’m good at saving people.”

  Chloe forced herself not to bristle. After all, he wasn’t making an offer to save her. There were certainly people who needed his heroic talent. She just never wanted his hero-sight trained on her. “So what’s your meeting about?”

  “Can’t tell you.”

  “Ooh, very cloak and dagger. Do I get another guess? Because now I’ve changed it to a meeting with the CIA where they try to recruit you.”

  “Look, it’s not just my secret to keep. But I’ll promise you two things: that I’m not in talks with the CIA, NSA, or FBI, and that as soon as I get the green light, I’ll tell you.”

  It was a huge indication that Griffin saw more phone calls, more dates, more pop-bys in their future. Chloe liked the potential for all of that very, very much.

  At her continued silence, Griff shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not here to hijack your evening. What were you doing?”

  Her gaze slid, traitorously, to the still-live screen on her laptop. Chloe dragged it back to the wine bottle, hopefully before he noticed. She grabbed it to pick at the foil. “Just, um, working.”

  “Really? Where are your two dozen pens laid out in symmetrical rows?” he teased.

  Cork exposed, Chloe centered the corkscrew. “I read the emails first. There’s lots of mulling involved. What approach will be the best, which stationery, which color ink, missive length. It’s a whole process.”

  “Let me see what you were mulling.” Griff sauntered past the kitchen island. Chloe desperately wanted to dart in front and slam shut the computer. But she was mid-yank, both hands full and bottle tucked between her legs for leverage. Other than actually dying of embarrassment on the spot, there was no way to stop him from seeing the website she’d been browsing.

  A long, suggestive whistle came from between pursed lips. “You’re looking at underwear models. I mean, this is something I’d use to pass the time. But you don’t seem the type.”

  This was one of those fork-in-the-road moments. She could either be bold and maybe, hopefully, have sex in the very near future. Like tonight. Or she could give in to the tidal wave of embarrassment currently drowning her. Ramble on about computer viruses, slam the laptop closed, and change the subject.

  Surreptitiously, Chloe reached down, pretending to scratch her calf. In reality, she was checking to see if she’d shaved this morning. Tonight could be The Night. Chloe had always hoped for something more romantic for the big moment. Not as over-the-top as flower petals on the bed, but at least no stupid late-afternoon sun streaming in the windows.

  On the other hand, she did have the most important detail—a willing man who turned her on in so many different ways. That was more than enough. Griff was exactly what she’d been looking for: sweet, funny, sexy as sin, smart, and fearless. So this was it.

  Pouring the wine, Chloe threw him a sultry look from beneath half-lidded eyes. And took the plunge. “I’m shopping for lingerie to impress the pants right off of you. Would you like to help?”

  After a double take that finished with a smile of almost disbelief, Griff said, “Hell yeah!” Then he slid into her seat in an eyeblink.

  Chloe carried the glasses to the giant partners desk she used as a combination desk and dining room table and set them on either side of the laptop.

  “Sit here.” Griff scooted back and patted his lap.

  “No. You’ll be uncomfortable.”

  “I sure will—in all the good ways.” He plucked at her top, drawing her closer. “Come on.”

  The practical side of Chloe knew that the blood supply to both his legs would probably be cut off in five minutes. The romantic side, the side of her that wanted to rip off Griff’s clothes and climb on top of him, well, that one would enjoy the heck out of those five minutes. Gingerly, she sat down. And his body heat blazed through
both layers of their clothing as if they didn’t even exist. Griff was a furnace. What would all that heat feel like against her bare skin? Chloe couldn’t wait to find out.

  “Get comfy,” he urged. And flashed her a wicked grin. “Picturing you in each one of these’ll take a while.”

  A riptide of nerves threatened to pull her under. “Oh. Well, you don’t have to go to those lengths. Just show me what you like.”

  Scrolling through the images, Griff asked, “Do you do this all the time? Have men help you choose the lingerie that’ll get them revved up? Does every guy you’ve ever slept with have a labeled set of matching bra and panties that you used on them?”

  “No. I’ve never done this before.” She gestured down at her sweats. “Do I look like the type of person who wears garter belts just because it’s Tuesday?”

  “I’m gonna need tactile confirmation in order to answer that question.” He ran his hand down the outside of her thigh. With a frown, he noted, “No garter today. But it’s only Monday. Can I come back on Tuesday and check again?”

  Laughter burst from her lips. “Sure.” Chloe put a hand on his wrist to stop the motion of the cursor. “There. That’s the sort of thing I had in mind.” It was a black satin slip, with white lace applique at the hem and across the top. Elegant yet sexy.

  “No.” Griff pushed her hair aside to nibble down her neck. His lips used just enough wet suction to chase shivers throughout her body. But Chloe was put off by his response—enough that she couldn’t relax into the pleasure of the moment.

  “What do you mean, ‘no’? You can’t just dismiss it out of hand.”

  “Sure I can. Don’t get me wrong, you’d be beautiful in it. But that’s hardly lingerie hot enough to—I think you said, ‘impress my pants off’? Might as well be a dress. Actually, I’m pretty sure I saw a woman wearing that at a club last week.”

  “Oh.” She’d known that being with Griff would push her a bit outside of her comfort zone. “Well, which one do you like?”