A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(99)

The butterflies that colonized my belly the day I met Griffin take flight, spreading through me on burning wings. He gently pulls me onto his lap like it’s the most normal thing in the realms and then trails his fingers from my throat to the tip of one breast, lightly circling my nipple through my tunic. It instantly hardens, pebbling under his fingertips.

A tremor runs through me, and I bat his hand away. “Confident, aren’t you?”

He nods, completely arrogant and completely male.

I can’t decide if I’m intrigued by his certainty, or disgusted by his ego. Where Griffin is concerned, I’m a mess. “And no one’s claiming anyone.”

“Call it what you want.” He slides his hands around my waist and then down, playfully squeezing my bottom. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Whatever we call it, it changes everything. I wiggle in his grip, shaking my head. “It can’t happen.”

He laughs, the overconfident beast. His next kiss is both dominant and coaxing, long, deep, and completely intoxicating. “You’ll change your mind.”

My mind? I can’t think. I can hardly breathe. “Is that a challenge?” I manage to ask. “Because I can be very stubborn.”

Griffin’s deft fingers find my breasts again, stroking, cupping, learning. He’s not kissing me now. He’s watching me with a smoldering intensity. Sizzling currents race beneath my skin. The low rumble of thunder in my veins makes my whole body quake. I lean into his touch, and he makes a noise that’s gravelly and almost savage.

“This isn’t a game, Cat. That’s not how it works when it’s real. When you want it to last.” He lifts both hands to my face, keeping me from turning away from him. “When the other person means more to you than your own life.”

I swallow hard as my stomach dips. Wholly unsettled, I press my lips together and don’t say anything.

Griffin shifts me on his lap so I’m straddling him, my hands on his shoulders. “When I first saw you, I thought you were older, more experienced.” His voice deepens, turning rougher. “I wanted to throw you over my shoulder, carry you out of the crowd, and make you mine behind the amphitheater. It would have been dark and hot, with only the sound of our panting echoing off the stones.”

Heat crashes through me. I instantly see the starry sky, feel the rough stones…and Griffin’s hard body.

His hands glide up my ribs, his wide palms brushing the outer swells of my breasts before sliding back down to my waist again. His glittering silver eyes turn heavy-lidded. “I wanted to push you against the wall, rip those tight pants off you, and bury myself in your heat.”

My lips part as arousing, carnal, appealingly rough images flood my mind.

Griffin’s fingers press into my sides. “I might have left the boots.”

I suck in a quick, shallow breath as my imagination supplies a vivid picture. The night cloaking us in darkness. My legs clinging to his waist. My back scraping the wall. Griffin’s hands gripping my hips, grinding me down on him while he thrusts into me with powerful, driving strokes.

The tension inside me turns volcanic, growing molten, wanting to fracture, needing to explode. My whole body starts pulsing with a single-minded chant. Take. Me. Take. Me. Take. Me.

Ignoring the urgent call to join with Griffin is like cutting myself in half. “Was this before or after I turned poisonous?” I ask tartly, sounding only a little unsteady.

“Weeks before.” He presses his lips to mine for a slow, seductive kiss. Then his mouth turns more insistent. Hungrier. “And every day after.”

His words sink into me, working their way into my very foundation. Every time he kisses me, or touches me, or tells me something I secretly long to hear, I feel changed, irrevocably altered.

“And when you realized I was younger?”

Griffin’s lips curve into that heart-stopping smile of his. “When you popped back into sight scrubbed clean and looking twenty years younger, I knew I’d found something special.”

I grin like an idiot.

“And full of hot air.”

Wait. What? I scowl, and he laughs, leaning in to capture my mouth again. He kisses me so deeply that I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. Holding my hips, he rocks me forward and up, sliding me along the steely length of his arousal. I gasp, desire streaking through me. He guides me against him again, harder this time, and my blood simmers, my core muscles straining for more—more contact, more friction, more…filling.

My eyes drift shut. A torrent of sensation overwhelms me. “This is madness. How can madness feel so good?”

His response is guttural, unintelligible, and makes me tremble with need. I push up on my knees, sliding along his erection in an effort to ease the growing ache between my thighs. A tremor racks his solid frame. I do it again, and Griffin’s fingers convulse on my hips. A groan tears from his throat.

His hands and mouth make me wild. I arch my back and press into him, hoping it’ll relieve some of the mounting pressure, but my gut just tightens with longing, and the friction of our bodies makes me insatiable for more. Slick between my legs, pulsing with liquid heat, driven by a crescendo of unbridled want, I swirl my hips and scatter hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck and jaw, flicking my tongue over his skin to taste him.

A harsh breath explodes from Griffin. He wrenches me down, grinding roughly. My breathing quickens. My knees spread until there’s not a whisper of air between us, only scalding need and his burning arousal. My fingers spear into his hair. My thighs clench, clasping his hips as I rub against him, moaning his name.