9. Tish

Chapter Nine

Tish

If I told you I wanted to kiss you, would you want me to?

Griffin's question ricocheted through my thoughts. I stared into his smoky gaze and tried to take a breath. My lungs seemed to have forgotten how to function. I felt lightheaded, breathless, and hot and tingly all over.

Aside from my lungs forgetting their job, my brain was filled with static, and my belly felt all fluttery. I definitely wasn't thinking when I took a step closer to him.

I finally managed to suck in the tiniest bit of air as I stared up at him. With my brain completely offline, I breathlessly whispered, "Yes, I would."

"Would you want a kiss right this minute?"

My head bobbed up and down. I didn't know who moved first, but we moved toward each other, erasing what little distance was left between us. Griffin was tall with broad shoulders. His entire presence was one of strength and protectiveness.

I felt encompassed by his strength. I cataloged details about him. The way his dark blond hair had flickers of gold like burnished sunshine. The little flashes of silver shimmering in his gray eyes. The bold, straight line of his nose, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, and the square edge of his jaw. Even his lips were delineated. Nothing about him was soft. He was all masculine.

As the seconds ticked by, my heartbeat began echoing through my entire body. I lifted my hand and placed it on his chest. I could feel the hard thump of his heart against my palm, and the warmth of his chest through his cotton T-shirt where his jacket was hanging open.

His eyes stayed locked with mine. It felt as if he was searching, almost reaching right into me, and grabbing a hold of me, kicking away my defenses, latching onto a thread of need, of wishfulness, of vulnerability and holding on tight.

I felt the electrifying brush of his fingers along my cheek just before he smoothed a lock of hair away. His touch simmered over my skin, leaving sparks dancing on the outer shell of my ear. His fingers trailed like a flame down the side of my neck. His thumb dragged along the edge of my jaw. I felt as if I were tumbling into the moment with a fire burning through me, liquid all over as I stared up at him.

All he had done was touch me, and barely. When his thumb dragged over my bottom lip, I was near to breathless. My lips parted as I shifted on my feet, restless from the storm inside. Heat rampaged through me and a tightness curled in my belly.

"Griffin," I heard myself whispering.

The pleading tone of my voice should've shocked me, but it didn't. My pure want for him was too powerful.

"Yes?" he whispered gruffly.

"Kiss me. Please." I felt the clench between my thighs and shifted again on my feet, trying to relieve the pressure building everywhere.

"Okay," he whispered over my lips.

His kiss started soft and questioning. I unconsciously made a sound in my throat, needy and pleading. My entire body felt shockingly alive, with my pulse thrumming along at a breakneck pace. Every tiny sensation fed into the others, creating a breathless intensity.

Griffin paused, lifting his head, just enough to create a pocket of space between our lips. I was distantly startled at the little whimper that slipped out from the back of my throat. I wasn't one to feel desperate, to feel bereft when there was a pause in a kiss.

And yet, Griffin had that effect on me. He elicited a sense of desperation inside of me.

"Are you sure you want this?" he rasped.

With each word, his lips touched mine. Every point of contact felt like a spark of electricity landing on my lips.

"Yes." That single word was emphatic.

I let out a sigh of sheer relief when his mouth came to mine again. It was a tease, a soft brush of his mouth over mine before he dusted kisses on the corners of my lips. I made a sound of impatience as I shifted closer, savoring the feel of his strong, muscled chest against me.

That seemed to spur him forward. One of his arms slid around my waist, his palm landed at the dip in my back where my hips flared outward. His fingers curved over the top of my bottom. The low sound in his throat sent a sizzle of electric fire through me.

He slid his other hand into my hair as he angled my head to the side and fit his mouth over mine. Our kiss went from a brushing tease to commanding. I loved it.

I took another step closer, erasing the millimeters between us. One of my hands mapped his chest, and the other curled around his waist, dipping under his jacket and the hem of his shirt to feel the banded muscles along his back.

His tongue tangled with mine in slow sweeps. I didn't even know if I was breathing. I felt made of liquid need. I was trembling by the time he lifted his head. His dark eyes bored into mine, and it felt as if I was staring into silver smoke. He didn't step back, still holding me close. His hand loosened its grip in my hair and slid down to rest at the base of my neck.

I was acutely aware of every single sensation. The pads of his fingers on my skin, where his other palm had slid down a little further over my bottom, the press of his body against mine. All the while, my mind was filled with static.

I tried to slow my breathing, but my heart was rampaging wildly. I experienced a small sense of relief to feel his heart thumping hard and fast underneath my palm.

His shoulders rose, his chest pressing against me as he took a deep breath. "I should go," he said, even though he didn't move at all.

I wanted to ask him to stay, but I didn't. This was a folly, a reckless moment. Because I knew better, or at least I hoped I did. But if I'd known better, I wouldn't have even let this happen.

When I didn't say anything, Griffin stepped back slightly. "Tish?" There was a lilt of a question in his voice.

I had to clear my throat to even speak. "Yes?"

"What do you want?"

I startled myself by answering with blunt honesty. "I don't want you to leave."

The heat banked in his dark gaze flared. I could practically see him trying to make a decision. "I don't want to leave either, but I think maybe I should."

Just then, my body decided to make its other needs known and my stomach audibly growled. I giggled when Griffin's eyes widened before crinkling at the corners with a slow smile.

"I should've asked if you needed to stop and get something for dinner," he said.

"Obviously, I'm hungry," I pointed out.

He was still holding me with one arm around my waist. My palm was still against his chest.

"What if I stay for a bit and we order some takeout?"

Before I could think better of it, I was nodding, and saying, "Sounds like a plan."

I sensed his reluctance as he slowly stepped back.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Other than you?" His intent was clear.

Heat blasted through me and I shifted on my feet again because I could feel the moisture between my thighs. This was so not me. I just wasn't like this with men. Ever.

I took an unsteady breath. "I meant, what do you want to eat?"

"Whatever you want. I can get us something from the winery restaurant."

"That sounds perfect. I'm not really in the mood for pizza, but I could absolutely go for one of those sesame chicken sandwiches."

He nodded. "I'll order."

By some freaking miracle, I managed to keep it together. Of all the things I had imagined doing this evening, it didn't include the hottest kiss of my life with Griffin, followed by an ordinary, casual dinner.

Griffin was polite, and even insisted on helping clean up. He washed the dishes quickly. It was only two plates and two glasses. And yet, my eyes lingered on the way his forearms flexed when he handed me the second plate.

That was how bad I had it for Griffin Cannon. I was on the verge of drooling over his forearms. Moments later, he turned and rested his hips against the counter. His gaze caught mine. "When can I see you again?"

A simple enough question, but it flustered me. I wasn't supposed to be kissing Griffin. I certainly wasn't supposed to be having dinner with him. I definitely wasn't supposed to be contemplating how I could handle the awkwardness of dating my boss's brother. Even though Griffin didn't work at the company, his family owned it. I wasn't an idiot. I knew I'd be skirting a line if I let things go further.

I moved my hands around in the air pointlessly before asking, "Do you think that's a smart idea?"