Okay, maybe he was imagining that last part.
Either way, he grabbed his dick, gave it a couple of strokes to ease the pressure a bit, and then he thrust, pushing into her while she lifted her ass and opened herself even more fully to him.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re almost too much for me to handle.”
But he tried. He tried his damnedest. He pumped into her, one hand tweaking a nipple while the other stroked between her legs. She reached up and grasped his hair, bunching it into her fist until it was almost painful. The entire time, she begged him to give her more.
More, and more, and more.
He gritted his teeth and willed his orgasm to hold off; he flicked her clit and nipped at the skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She arched, twisting her hand in his hair, and cried out, her inner muscles clamping down so tightly that they pulled his own climax out of him, milking him until he had nothing left.
On a gasping breath, he said, “That’s all I’ve got.”
“It’s perfect,” she said, sighing, and relaxing in his arms. Within moments, her breathing had become steady, her eyes were closed, and she’d fallen back asleep.
Not Griffin. He rolled onto his back and rested his hand on his stomach. And wished with all his might that his life had turned out differently.
That he wouldn’t have run into Sofia four years ago. Because if he hadn’t, he never would have given in and slept with her the first time. Which would have changed the trajectory of their second meeting.
Oliver would have assigned him to her protection, and he would have done his job, appropriately, as an unemotional gargoyle should. He would have successfully kept her safe from her brother. He would have won Oliver’s favor and proven his worth.
And he wouldn’t have fallen in love.
Chapter Fourteen
Sofia came awake as something—or someone—insistently shook her shoulder.
“Wake up, Sofia. I need to go.”
She blinked open her eyes. Griffin sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, looking down at her with an earnest expression on his face. She glanced at the French door leading outside. It wasn’t quite dark, but not full daylight either. She guessed it was shortly before dawn.
“Where?”
She watched as he lifted his gaze to the door as well. “I need to speak to Oliver.”
Of course. What else had she expected him to say?
She threw off the covers and snagged her robe, viciously tugging it over her arms and cinching the waist. “Why did you even come back?” she snapped.
His head drooped. If she weren’t so furious, she might feel sorry for him. Except he’d brought this on himself. He shouldn’t have come back. Gotten her hopes up.
And she shouldn’t have had any sort of expectations in the first place.
“Just go already.”
“I don’t want to leave you like this.”
She shoved him out of the way so she could climb out of bed. “How do you want to leave me?”
“I…I don’t. But I have to.”
Nope. Her heart would not thaw. She would not feel a smidgen of…anything at all. Except anger. She needed to cling to the fury or she’d do something foolish like beg him to reconsider. And he’d just said he couldn’t.
“Bye.” She added a little wave and a shoulder twitch while glaring at him.
He stood and sighed. “Please don’t be mad.”
She pointed at the door. “You never should have come back.”
“You’re right.”
If he walked any slower, he’d morph into a turtle.
She waited him out, maintaining her best woman-scorned stance. When he reached for the door handle, he glanced over his shoulder. She glared right back.
With another sigh, this one worthy of an actor during his big moment on stage, Griffin opened the door, stepped through, and closed it behind him. Abandoning the turtle act, he immediately hopped onto the porch railing and then leaped off, shifting into his gargoyle form. His flapping wings caught the wind. and a moment later, he disappeared from view.
Her dragon pouted.
“Shut up,” she snapped, storming into the attached bathroom so she could brush her teeth and wash her face. “He’s not worth it, no matter how much you like the sex.”
She liked it too, and she could freely admit it. But sex was not enough to sustain a relationship. Not when one of the participants kept disappearing like smoke.
She headed down to the kitchen in search of coffee. As she reached for the cannister containing the grounds of precious caffeine, she noticed an envelope with her name on it lying on the counter.
That was weird. Who would leave a note for her here? Unless Antoinette had, maybe? Except she’d gone to bed before Sofia had last night. And it couldn’t be from Griffin, because he’d left by flying off the second-floor balcony.
Although if it was from him, she’d burn the damn thing.
Snatching it up, she flipped it over and slid the folded stationary out, reading the brief note scribbled in blue ink.
I need access to the reeve’s laptop. You will get it for me. Figure out the password, write it down on a piece of paper, and tape it to the computer, then place it under the cushions in that box in the gazebo. Tonight, after everyone has retired.
You know what will happen if you do not.
There was no signature, but Sofia didn’t need one. Darius had written this note. The question was, how had he gotten into the house? Sneaking into the yard on a cloud-covered night moments before a storm was to start was one thing; actually stepping foot into the house was entirely another.
It meant he was far more dangerous than probably even Antoinette suspected.
And if he
