Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(46)

I wrapped my legs around his body and guided his member to my opening. “Can’t you see how perfect I think you are?”

And then he was inside me.

This time he was perfect. He fit into me wonderfully, and if I felt stretched, it was in a thrilling, delicious way. I felt complete, filled up, satisfied.

He drew out of me slowly, gazing down into my eyes, and then he pushed his way back in.

I gasped.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed.

His slow rhythm continued, dragging almost all the way out of me, and then plunging in so deep.

I shook my head, my breathing shallow, my pulse racing. “You.”

“Us,” he said, burying himself in me again, piercing me.





Chapter Ten


“So,” Griffin was saying, his body curled around mine in bed, “you’re coming to Morgantown to go to grad school, right?”

It was morning, but our hotel was still a dark cocoon. I didn’t think there was anything nicer than feeling his naked skin against mine, than being so close. “That’s the plan. If we don’t die, that is.”

“I won’t let you die,” he growled.

His voice did things to my insides. I closed my eyes and snuggled even closer to him. “You better not.”

He chuckled low and deep. “I want you alive for some time yet, doll. I have all kinds of plans for you.”

“I want you alive too.”

He kissed me.

“I love you,” I said, feeling safe and happy in the circle of his arms. I didn’t want to move.

“I love you too,” he said. “We should get married.”

It took a second for the words to sink in. “What?”

“I said we should—”

“No, I heard you.” My heart had picked up its pace.

His grip on me loosened. “Well, okay, then.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

He rolled away from me. “Exactly.”

“Griffin.” I pressed my body against his back, flattening my bare breasts against him. “Yes.”

He turned, and I had to extricate myself from him again. “Yes?”

I nodded. It wasn’t too soon, and we weren’t too young. I was a college graduate. Griffin and I knew each other very well. And I was in love with him. I wanted to be married to him. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said.

“That’s it? Good?” I poked him under his ribs. “You suck at this, you know?”

“I suck at it?”

“Yes, you do. You’re supposed to get down on one knee. You’re supposed to have a ring and stuff. And you’re supposed to actually ask, not just say what we should do.”

“Oh,” he said, grinning. “So if I’d done it that way, then you wouldn’t have responded with, ‘What?’”

I shrugged. “Well, you’ll never know now, will you? That was the moment you proposed to me, and we’ll never get another chance.”

He rolled on top of me, grasping my wrists and holding them over my head. “I guess I ruined everything, then, didn’t I?”

“Pretty much,” I said.

He brought his lips close to mine, almost touching mine.

When I tried to kiss him, he yanked his head back. “Nope.”

“You’re awful,” I said.

“Will you marry me?” he said.

“I don’t even know anymore.”

He kissed my chin. “Will you marry me?”

“Maybe,” I said.

He trailed kisses up the line of my jaw, settling on the spot just below my ear. The spot that made me shiver. He kissed me there. “Will you marry me?”

I groaned.

“What was that?”

“Griffin,” I sighed.

“You’re not answering the question.”

“And you’re not on one knee either.”

He raised his head to face me. “And I don’t have a ring.”

“You don’t.”

“I’ll fix it,” he said, kissing me. “Later.” His hand snaked down my torso to find my breast.

I gasped.

“Little busy right now.”

*

“It’s not very traditional,” said Griffin.

“We’re not traditional,” I said, admiring my hand. The ring was settled on my finger there, a large, tear-drop-shaped stone. But it wasn’t a diamond. It was deep red—the color of passion, the color of blood. And it was a better representation of the way I felt about Griffin that any delicate colorless stone would ever be. This stone was blocky, rough, big, and bold. That was my love for him. “It’s the one I wanted.”

“You should take it off,” he said. We were sitting outside at a café. The waitress had taken our breakfast orders a few minutes before.

I shot him a reproachful look. “Take it off? You just gave it to me. You’re taking it back?”

“Give me the ring, doll.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

I yanked it off my finger and slapped it into his palm. “You’re very mean, Griffin Fawkes, and I hope you realize this.”