Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(97)

He cradled her determined little jaw. “My sweet girl, you never need be lonely again.”

Refusing to analyze what those words truly meant, Griffin lowered his head and kissed her.





CHAPTER Fifteen



As Griffin’s mouth descended to hers, Justine vaguely noted how odd it was to be spitting mad at a person one minute and in the next be ready to forgive him all sorts of things. But when Griffin had explained his behavior during dinner, it made sense. His seductive manner was clearly so much a part of him, coming to him as easily as he took in breath. For all she knew, it was completely unconscious, an instinctive response to the enthusiastic female attention he attracted the minute he stepped foot into a room. She might as well tell the tides to cease rising as to expect him to react contrary to his nature.


When his hand dipped under the lace of her bodice, she started to tremble. Her cautious nature struggled to reassert itself over her rising excitement, and she instinctively grasped his wrist to hold him still.

His head come up. Her heart skipped a beat at the hard, hungry glitter of his gaze and the taut cast to his features.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“Um, I don’t really know,” she stammered, sounding like a dimwit. She truly didn’t. A war was going on inside her, between her head and . . . well, she wasn’t sure it was her heart, but it was certainly her body. She’d never felt so reckless. Always, she’d been the opposite of reckless, or at least had been until she met Griffin. But she wanted this, wanted him so much that it almost frightened her.

Almost.

“You have to be sure, Justine,” he said. “I cannot make this decision for you.”

“I know,” she replied in a breathless voice. And even though he’d stopped kissing her, he still held her in an encompassing embrace. Nor had his hand come up from under the trim of her bodice. In fact, his fingers continued to play absently with her, lightly stroking and sending shivers through her body, even as his attention remained on her face.

“The trouble is,” she said in a rush of candor, “that I don’t want you to stop. I know it’s perfectly demented, but I want this. Is that stupid of me?”

His hard mouth curved into a rueful smile. “Probably, but why don’t we be stupid together, at least for tonight?”

She searched his face in the uncertain light, trying to deduce what lay behind the cool, handsome features. He’d pitched her off balance, and she couldn’t help wishing that some little part of him felt the same. But in the shadows of the carriage it was difficult to tell. She couldn’t help worrying that she was making a tremendous mistake, allowing him to push her where she didn’t wish to go.

But he wasn’t pushing. He simply held her, his fingers barely moving on her, waiting for her decision. And, truthfully, the only place he clearly wanted to take her was exactly where she wanted to be. She’d given up hope long ago that any man would want her in this way. Given up hope that any man could make her feel this way . . . special enough to risk her heart.

But he did. Griffin Steele, the rake and reprobate who’d treated her with more genuine kindness and consideration than any man she’d ever known.

She was tired of holding back. For once, she wanted to throw her caution aside and face the consequences later.

“I do want this,” she said, smiling up at him. “I want it more than anything.”

His eyelids shuttered for a second, then opened on a dark gaze lit with passion. “Then you shall have it, Justine. Everything I have to give.”