“That’s how I’d see it, from the stuff you uncovered.”
“Arsonists are more commonly male.” Lily remembered reading that.
“Maybe those are the statistics. But the first fire was in a boy’s locker, then a boy’s bedroom, then a lover’s lane site. And since the boys were all the victims, it just seems like it had to be a girl.”
“A girl who felt hurt. Or humiliated. Or angry.”
“Or all three. A girl who needed some kind of revenge.”
The more Griff rubbed her scalp, combing fingers into her hair, the more Lily was afraid she’d fall into some drugged bliss state. It’s not as if she was normally a sensualist. She was just a sucker for a head rub, and it’d been years since anyone had given her one. “You think it’s the same girl who’s been setting the fires this week?”
“I don’t know. But two plus two usually equals four. I’ve been thinking how the rest of it adds up. Just supposition. But the three fires in the past weren’t set to deliberately hurt any of those boys. Just to hurt property. To let those boys know she wasn’t happy with their behavior. And the three fires since you’ve been home-they have to be about you. Because you’re the only link. But no one’s tried to hurt you specifically. It seems like an echo. She’s telling you that she’s not happy with your behavior. That you’re here. Looking into this.”
“Griff.”
“What?”
“I think your reasoning is brilliant. And scary. But I can’t think about this anymore. Not right now.”
“How come?”
“You know how come.” But she didn’t move. And his fingers kept up that magic scalp massage. The moon and the sweet, rich smells and barely rocking raft and Griff, his closeness, all seemed to come together like wine. Too much wine. Way, way too much wine.
“I have this feeling…that you’re easy, Lily.”
“I am. I am.”
“You don’t seem impressed by money. I can’t see you lusting after jewels. But I just don’t know about the strength of your character-when you’re so willing to cave for a little scalp rub.”
She needed to correct one item there. “Hey, I like jewels. Or I’m sure I could get into jewels, if I just had the chance.”
“So on a set of scales, jewels at one end, and a scalp rub on the other…”
“All right, all right, I admit it. Nothing compares to a scalp rub. But in general, there’s plenty of greed and selfishness and stuff like that in my character.”
“I think we should encourage those things.” Even though the white boat cushion was long and narrow, he managed to twist her on her stomach without even nominally rocking the boat-conceivably because she was limper than noodles and already completely pliable. His hands chased up her tee, unhooked her bra. She considered expressing a little outrage-or at least surprise-but by then he was already rubbing and kneading and stroking her back.
It wasn’t her fault that she caved. How awful could a day be? Being hauled to the police department. Being almost arrested. Feeling responsible for the fire in the library. Feeling responsible for the fire at Griff’s. Not even knowing why she was feeling responsible. And then uncovering all that messy past stuff at the newspaper office- good information, good clues, but still nothing substantial enough to change the past or present. On top of which, Griff’s dragging her into the diner that morning had been a stomach-clencher. Yes, people talked to her, but initially they’d looked at her with such suspicion, it had felt like wearing a red stripe in her hair. No one looked at her as if they saw
And Griff…damn the man, but he was turning into her vice. The best vice she’d ever taken up. She never thought she could do it-throw everything to the wind for one man, one wild fling of irresponsible sex, and not feel a single ounce of guilt. This was so right that she just couldn’t care. He was so right for her heart, for her soul, for her life at this moment, that nothing else could possibly matter more.
He kneaded and rubbed and stroked, her neck, scalp, down the slope of her spine, pushing her shorts down to just the swell of her fanny, where he could rub the very small of her back. “You’re tense,” he murmured. “Pecan Valley hasn’t exactly been a vacation for you, has it?”
He didn’t mean it as a question. Didn’t mean for her to answer. But if he thought she was tense because of her personal problems, she needed to correct that notion immediately.
She was tense, all right.
Because of him. For him.
She twisted beneath him, setting the raft on a wild rock, startling the vulnerable shine in Griff’s eyes. Oh yeah, she wasn’t the only one who needed love. She suspected he’d never had a shortage of offers for sex. But love wasn’t the same thing at all.
She found his mouth, took it. It wasn’t a moment of pleasure she wanted to offer him-but a moment of risk. It was her turn to rub and knead and stroke. Her hands stole under his shirt, pushed up the fabric, not caring that it bunched, not caring that her knees and elbows seemed to be in the wrong place.
“Hey, sugar…” His voice was lazy as molasses, but his eyes weren’t. His gaze was all fire and heat, his skin already glazed, his intent as explosive as any accelerant could possibly be. “You started things last time. Don’t you think we should take turns?”
“No.”
“No?” The hint of a smile in his voice. “Well…we could argue about it. I can’t think of a more fun argument. But this time, this night, I just can’t let you win, Lily, I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t the least bit sorry. What he knew and what she knew was a little like comparing candlelight to a forest fire. She was a quick learner, but it was hard to catch up with a guy who’d been around as many blocks as he had. And he was so darned fast.
Clothes were pushed and pulled and yanked free.
Some, she feared, went into the water. For sure, a shoe did.
Moonlight caught the gleam of his hair, the glisten of his skin…the need in his face, in his heart. Maybe he thought this was about seduction. But she closed her eyes and just…gave.
Everything she had.
His tongue on her breast, his palm sliding down into her panties, into her…the way he clenched that contact. He knew it would ignite her. He knew.
But she knew a few things, too. She knew as much about loneliness as he did. She knew intimately about traveling life solo, about a heart too damaged to risk any more losses, about always that need, that hunger, that hole deep down that never got filled. It wasn’t something she shared with anyone else. It wasn’t something she could even explain. But she knew Griff at some level, knew his heart at some level. Knew…
Knew nothing. Except to touch and give and lay her wants bare. They slid against each other, skin slick, lips wet, need trembling with more and more ferocity raging between both of them. She used her hands as an accelerant, finding a way to stroke him, to tease the long, firm length of him…until he let out of a growl of frustration. Such a growl that she had to laugh.
She quit laughing when he plunged inside her. Her eyes popped open, met his, matched his. She wound her legs up and tight on his hips, felt him scooch her even higher, felt him driving, driving, driving into her like a lion possessing his mate. He’d have hurt her, except he couldn’t. She was wet, willing, encouraging the wildness, encouraging him to let go, to be. With her. All he was.
He came on a long guttural groan that echoed her own fierce cry. The tight pulsing explosions seemed to go on and on, pleasure that stole both her breath and her heart.
Silence followed that symphony of sensation. He eased his weight off her, but then just pulled her close. She practiced trying to breathe normally, but it was tough, with his fingers softly threading through her hair, his gaze on her face as if she were the sun and the moon and then some.
Eventually frogs got around to burping again. Owls restarted their hoot thing. Maybe those sounds had been happening before, but she hadn’t heard them. She hadn’t heard or seen anything but Griff.
“We can’t ever do this again,” she murmured regretfully.
His brow raised. “Hmm. I could have sworn you were having a good time a few moments ago.”
“Oh. I was. But that’s just the thing. We keep doing this, you’ll have permanently ruined me for anyone else. Before you, I was perfectly happy thinking that making love was a nice thing to share between two people who really, really care about each other.”
