She couldn't let him know. Instead she kept trying to remember her motive for ending up in Griffin's bed.
Revenge affair, revenge affair, revenge affair.
That's all it was. A one-night stand to soothe her pride.
Just like that, however, shock waves racked her, and she felt herself splinter and come apart.
Griffin raised himself up and held her until her body relaxed again.
When he smoothed a stray hair away from her face, her eyes met his.
Her lips parted. "Carter never wanted to—"
"Carter is an idiot. Haven't we established that already?"
Despite his dark tone, his expression held masculine satisfaction—as if he was pleased he'd already outplayed Carter.
She slid her hand along his muscled thigh, giving in to the overwhelming urge to touch and caress him.
He tensed and caught her hand. "Ah, kitten. Not a good idea right now."
She looked at him questioningly, and then heated as understanding dawned.
"I've got to be inside you," he said roughly. "I'm right at the edge."
"Yes," she breathed.
He positioned her, and then slid inside her, inch by inch, filling up all the empty space within her.
When he entered her completely, he expelled an explosive breath.
She'd underestimated, Eva thought dimly, what it would be like to be possessed by Griffin.
He began to move in a steady rhythm, his hands and mouth working to evoke a response from her and having an unerring sense of where her pleasure points were.
Another orgasm racked her, her fingers digging into his back, but Griffin just kept taking her higher…until they hung there in the balance, a stretched moment of tension that let them savor the intimacy.
And then with a harsh groan, Griffin arched back, the tendons standing in relief against his neck, and drove into her, spilling himself inside of her and triggering her own final, blissful topple over the edge.
Eight
G riffin awoke the next morning with a smile on his lips. He had the pleasant sensation of emerging from the mists of an erotic dream.
As the last remnants of fog dissipated, last night came back to him.
He'd bedded Evangeline Tremont.
He'd never felt so connected during sex.
The bed shifted beside him, and he leaned over, propping himself on an elbow.
Eva's eyes remained closed but it was clear she was waking up.
Her midnight hair fanned out on the pillow, her lashes inky against the milky softness of her skin. Her lips were parted and looked puffy, soft and inviting.
His mind replayed scenes from the night before. He remembered how passionately she'd kissed him back and how expertly she'd used her mouth—and he felt the stirrings of arousal.
Eva moved, and her leg slid against his.
After a moment, her eyes fluttered open.
"Good morning," he said.
"Er—Hi."
"I was just watching you wake up."
Her eyes widened. "Were you?"
"Last night was—" he searched for a word to do it justice, but settled on "—fantastic." He slid his hand down her leg in a leisurely caress. He'd enjoy a repeat of last night's performance right about now. In fact, he thought, focusing on her mouth, he couldn't think of a better way to spend the morning.
He leaned down to kiss her, but just as he was about to lower his mouth to hers, she tossed back the sheet and sprang out of bed.
He watched her, bemused. "Where are you going?"
At the same time, he couldn't help enjoying the view. She had a fantastic body. He pictured the photo he'd seen numerous times in Marcus's study: a teenage Eva, dressed in her ballet outfit and doing a pirouette.
Eva grabbed her bra and panties from the floor, and then glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. "It's Saturday. I—I've got to get to work. There's a function at the MOMA tonight."
"I'll be there."
"You're not invited."
"I've got connections," he teased. "And the most important is a certain well-known party planner."
She didn't answer. Instead she yanked on her panties, not sparing him a glance.
The easy amusement playing at the edges of his mouth died away. He was getting the distinct impression he was on the receiving end of a brush-off, and he didn't like it.
You're my consolation fling. Her words came back to him, though the night before they'd been lost in a haze of desire.
Like hell, he thought.
After what they'd shared, he wasn't about to let her dismiss them as a casual anything.
He threw back the covers on his side of the bed, and stood up.
She put on her bra as he prowled toward her.
"Leaving so soon?" he asked.
She looked around the floor. "I—I've got to find my shoes."
When she bent to search, he grasped her forearm and stopped her. "I'm not going to let you run from this."
She tossed her hair back as she straightened. "I don't know what you mean."
"I mean, you're scared and you're running, Evangeline."
"Scared of what? You?" she asked scornfully. "I'm not Little Red Riding Hood and you're not the Big Bad Wolf."
"That's too bad," he responded, "because I'm definitely hungry for you."
Last night, he'd just about devoured her.
She paled, but recovered her bravado quickly. "Let's not make last night into more than it was, okay? Thanks for helping to restore my confidence after Carter. You can check it off your list."
"Great," he said smoothly. "Now let's run off to Vegas and elope. I'll check that item off my list, and your revenge will be complete."
"What?"
She stared at him in such open astonishment, he almost laughed.
"You're crazy!"
He arched a brow. "I'm offering you a way to walk away from Carter and get the last word. A way to get everything you want, including a baby. But you're turning me down. So who's crazy?"
"Both your siblings are having kids," she tossed back, her tone tinged with suspicion. "Is that the reason you're so willing to have a child with me? Because you're feeling left out?"
His jaw set. "Let's just say I had a chance recently to discover what I really wanted."
He'd gotten a wake-up call, all right. Just not in the way she believed. The fact that she'd almost slipped through his hands and fallen into Newell's had been his reveille.
Now, he saw emotion flicker in her eyes, and sensed a weakening of her defenses.
He pressed forward. "What have you got to lose?"
They both knew her fiancé was gone, and her prospects for going out and getting another one anytime soon were dim.