Traitorous anticipation streaks through me on a flash of white-hot desire. Faster than I can blink, he pulls me against him, fitting our bodies together like two pieces of a sizzling puzzle. I gasp, wondering if spanking is a metaphor again.
“Don’t even think about it,” I say sternly, tilting my head back to look at him. I shouldn’t have. His eyes are dark, intense, and full of things I can’t have, but can’t help thinking about. Thinking about in detail. Explicit detail.
Stop.
Stop now.
Stop!
Griffin looks down at me, his smoldering gaze making me want to dive headlong into disaster. His big hand circles my thigh, lifting it to hook my leg around his hip. I’m forced to grab his shoulders for balance. There’s not a whisper of air between us. His swelling hardness presses against my lower abdomen. Fear and excitement whirl through me in a wild dance. I’m catching fire, burning up. I feel like Icarus too close to the sun—and we all know how that turned out.
Griffin’s free hand settles on my waist before sliding a light, fiery caress along my ribs to the outer swell of my breast. Sensation ripples through me, and I shiver.
His eyes turn hooded. “Or I could kiss the information out of you,” he says, leaning in.
I panic and jerk back, hitting my head on the wall. “It was some blonde woman. She doesn’t like me. It’s not important.”
He straightens, frowning. “Who?”
If he can’t guess, it just shows how insignificant Daphne is to him, despite what she obviously thinks. The knot that unwinds inside me is proof of everything I keep refusing to admit. The realization makes my stomach cramp.
“Don’t worry about it. She looks worse than I do. She won’t bother me again.”
Griffin hovers a moment longer and then retreats. Goose bumps spread the length of my body. The only time I’m ever cold is after being too close to his heat.
His expression turns rock-hard. “Whoever she is, if she touches you again, she’ll be punished.”
His voice is flat and deceptively casual, reminding me of the ruthless warlord I met at the circus fair. Strange how he’s become just Griffin to me, smiling often, the keystone of his family, jealous, overbearing, fun to torment, strong, with an amazing mouth that turns me into a hot, molten volcano about to explode…
I clear my throat. “She’ll be punished? Not by spanking, I assume.”
I realize I just flirted, or teased, or something equally awful, and my face flames kalaberry red.
Humor brightens Griffin’s eyes, and I blurt, “I’m still seriously considering stabbing you in your sleep.”
He smiles. “You don’t want to.”
“I’ll take that bet.”
“You’d miss me,” he says confidently.
I roll my eyes, letting him know what I think of that bit of arrogant absurdity.
“You’d miss this.” He swoops down and kisses me, his lips softly urgent. Incredibly enticing. It’s all I can do not to open for him, to let him invade me, and to conquer him in return. I want to throw my arms around his neck, press myself against him, and tangle my tongue with his so much it hurts.
Need unfurls inside me—a deep ache coupled with a deeper longing. The wings in my chest beat, confined and unsatisfied. I fight them. Fight him. Fight myself.
I nearly melt under the warm pressure of Griffin’s mouth as he tries coaxing me into kissing him back. I don’t. I won’t. I do my best to ignore the hot throb between my legs and the restless tension coiling inside me, and cage a scream of yearning and frustration and rage. He sets me ablaze. He makes me want. If it were only physical, I might just give in. I wouldn’t care what happens to him because of me, or what he’ll think of me once he knows.
After another scalding brush of his lips over mine, Griffin lifts his head. His rough thumbs stroke a burning path along my jaw, and his glittering silver eyes nearly make me reach out with both hands to take what he’s offering. Instead, I steel myself and scrape the back of my hand across my mouth. “That was worse than goat cheese.”
Not really.
Not at all.
Gods, I hate my life.
Griffin laughs, grabs my hand, and drags me out of the barracks.
“Not easily discouraged, are you?” I mutter.
He shepherds me across the courtyard, Athena watching with flat eyes. “Do you think I could have conquered Sinta if I were easily discouraged?”
I glare at him. I guess not.
He deposits me at the table before stalking back to the doors for a word with the guards. One leaves immediately.