The Austen Playbook (London Celebrities #4)(35)

Her fingers curled lightly against his shirt. “Charlie said you were in Henrietta’s office before half past six. I think you have a problem with delegation.” She moved her hands, flattening her palms against his chest. Her doe-brown eyes moved over his face, then locked on his, studying him. An increasingly familiar teasing glint appeared. “Hello.”

Griff felt a crease tuck into the side of his mouth as his lips curved. “Hello.”

Freddy rubbed slightly with her fingertips, and he felt her touch as a jolt from chest to groin. One tiny stroke and his breath was deepening, becoming weightier. He’d always despised not feeling in control of his surroundings or his body’s reactions; it was one of the reasons he loathed flying and couldn’t stand being ill.

He could imagine Freddy’s reaction if she knew she was being mentally compared to a head cold.

Reason, then, would suggest that he should release his hold on her, and break hers on him.

He didn’t.

“I need some parameters,” Freddy said, and he wondered where her erratic thought processes were skipping off to now. “Because fair warning, I’m a chronic toucher when I’m with someone I have any kind of close relationship with. I kiss and I cuddle, and if I’m sexually attracted, I touch a lot and often don’t realise I’m doing it, so if you’d rather I keep my hands to myself, you can say so.”

Griff looked at her without blinking. “Do you always leave yourself this wide open?”

“No. Professionally, I’ve rarely been as frank as I should be. With my family, I’ve just sat back and avoided rocking the boat. But I’ve always been transparent when it comes to my private life. I just need to apply the principle to other areas,” she said, her mouth briefly turning down. “Ask people what they want, say what you want, and it’s all out on the table. Everyone knows where they are.”

You could also employ a bit of subtlety, and not lay yourself bare for the world to tear strips off. There were aspects of her philosophy on life that he found appalling. “There are more effective ways to get what you want.”

“Oh God, the Slytherin.” Freddy coughed delicately. “So, licence to snog?” She hesitated. “For now.”

Officially the strangest conversation he’d ever had with a woman, but he couldn’t say he hadn’t had adequate warning that Freddy was likely to throw him unexpected curveballs.

She looked up at him with a definite challenge in her gaze, but also a flicker of vulnerability. Exactly to be expected if she was going to merrily open herself up to rejection from all angles, but it hit him right in that new, growing core of protectiveness.

He cupped her cheeks and bent his head. They were staring at one another from a distance so narrow that the slightest movement would bring his lips in contact with hers. “Touch away,” he said. A heartbeat, a whisper of warm breath on his mouth. “For now.”

She took him at his word and brought her bare arms around his neck, pulling him forward into a kiss. There was no slow, questioning build-up this time. It was like plunging headfirst into a hot spring, enveloping heat and a rush of physical sensation that was almost suffocating in its intensity.

Wrapping his hand into the frizzy tangle of curls at the back of her neck, Griff held her in the shelter of his arm and she curved her body, angling perfectly so they came together like a couple of puzzle pieces. She opened her mouth, stroking her tongue to his, and he grunted low in his chest as his body reacted with a speed he’d thought he’d aged out of. She smiled against his cheek, and did something with her hips, rotating them into his in a teasing shimmy.

“Fuck.” They were still within plain sight of the house, and that reality was rapidly sliding away from him.

“That was my signature move from the Chicago segment of the royal charity performance. I believe you compared it in the Post to a millipede being electrocuted.” Freddy’s voice was husky in his ear, but her laugh seemed to hit him in the chest. “Ain’t irony fun?”

Then their mouths were meeting again, kissing over and over, and his hands were shaping over her back, and lower. Charlie needed to keep his opinions and his eyes to his fucking self, but he wasn’t wrong about certain...attributes. It was round, and he was painfully hard. His hands stroked her thighs, and Freddy took his wrists and moved them back to her waist without breaking the kiss. His hold drifted back after a few seconds, and she sighed against his lips.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “Keep fondling my cellulite, then.”

“What?” His mouth went to her neck, lightly sucking, his hands addicted to the feel of her warmth and softness, and she shivered, an abrupt jerk, and cuddled into him.

The sound of equipment crashing to the gravel around the front of the house, and muffled voices, brought them both out of the sexual fog.

“I wonder if that was our stuff breaking or yours.” Freddy leaned back against the tree, smoothing her tumbled curls out of her face with trembling hands.

“If it follows the general trend of this summer, mine.” Griff fastened his belt. He hadn’t even felt her tug it open. Jesus. He released a short, hard breath.

“Gee, thanks,” Freddy murmured, and he looked at her.

“Not you.”

She looked back at him silently, and after a moment, he checked his watch. “I need to get going. Are you late back to rehearsal?”