Page 10 of Griffin Food

The proprietor—a kindly middle-aged woman with a stout bearing and a no-nonsense manner—is listing the tavern’s facilities, including a small bathhouse, which would normally garner my avid attention. I tug ineffectively at the collar of my blouse and press the back of my hand against my throat.

Goddess save me. I’m burning up.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, my lady?”

“No, thank you,” I say, glancing around the serviceable quarters—a day room with a dining table and two adjoining bedrooms. “I’ll wait for my— ” I stumble over the word. I really don’t like calling them guards but calling them my men suddenly feels far too intimate. “I’ll wait for my companions to return. And then we’ll see about some supper.”

“Of course, my lady.” She bobs her head and shows herself out.

We’ve been riding all day and I ought to be hungry, but I don’t think I could eat a morsel if my life depended on it. I walk to the window, open the latch, and throw it wide, letting in a breath of cool air.

The breeze feels wonderful. I arch my back and moan—then catch myself, startled by how high and needy the sound comes out.

The material of my shirt scrapes against my hardened nipples. Before I can think better of it, my hand slides from my throat to cup the swell of my breast. I brush my thumb across the peak.

And moan again.

My eyes snap open.

My hand drops away.

And then I go very still, because the window looks out onto the courtyard at the back of the tavern. The courtyard that leads directly to the stables.

Rafe and Lark are standing in the stable doorway, staring straight back at me.

I step back in a rush and bump into the table.

Did they see?

Did they hear?

My mind races, trying to work out the angles. Maybe the frame was in the way. The low-pitched awning below, blocking the view. Maybe the sound wasn’t as loud as I thought.

Only their expressions…

Goodness. They are on their way up. After I just… after I just touched myself and moaned.

I glance around frantically like there might be somewhere to hide.

I can’t face them.

Not after that.

They’re probably going to think I’m—what? Issuing an invitation?

The urge to flee to my bedroom is strong. But there is no escaping this. I cannot bury my head in the sand. I will have to face them at some point, whether that is today or tomorrow.

A knock sounds on the door. They do not normally knock yet I already know it’s them. And isn’t that telling?

A small squeak escapes me.

“Come in.” I clear my throat. “Come in!”

The door swings open.

Rafe enters first. His scent comes with him, hitting me like a wall of warm, spicy male goodness. Lark is right behind him, and the second wave of pure masculine enticement slams into me.

My nipples peak further.