Page 67 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“Hey.” Griff reached over and pulled the glass away from my mouth. “I don’t give a fuck if people talk about me. Hell, they already do. But I don’t want them talking about you. I don’t want them saying that you’re screwing around with me and not concentrating on your job. Or that our relationship was the reason my dad pushed to hire you. I want people to see you as the chief of police. As a capable cop. Not as the woman warming my bed.”

“Oh.” My heart swelled so much it hurt. I had no idea he cared about my reputation. Me, the outsider. “I’ve never slept in your bed.”

“No, you haven’t. But that doesn’t matter. People will talk. They’ll make up their own version of the truth.”

This was the small-town life that Dad had always cussed. It was the reason he’d moved away from Quincy after high school.

People would make up their own minds based on fact or fiction. They’d believe the Emily Nelsens of the world simply because Emily Nelsen’s gossip was the most entertaining. There was nothing I could do to stop it, and living in fear of the rumor mill wasn’t in my five-year plan.

“I don’t care.” I shrugged. “Besides, I’m guessing she’s already running her mouth.”

“Pretty much.”

“Then it’s done.” I raised my glass to take another drink, but before it reached my lips, Griffin took it once more, this time out of my hand entirely.

He set my glass with his on the floor, then he wrapped a hand around my wrist and hauled me off the couch.

“What are you doing?”

His arms banded around my back, pulling me flush against his chest. “If people are going to talk about us having sex, we might as well have sex.”

I smiled, and when he dropped his lips to mine, I welcomed him into my mouth, moaning at his taste. Oh, how I’d missed him. More than I wanted to admit.

Clinging to his broad shoulders, I wrapped my legs around his hips when he lifted me off the floor.

With tongues tangled, he walked us to my bedroom, pausing when he stepped through the threshold to tear away. “This is not the same room.”

I unwound my legs, my toes easing to the floor. Gone were the suitcases shoved against the walls. They were neatly stowed in my closet along with the clothes they’d carried, either hung on a hanger, folded on a shelf or tossed in a hamper. “I unpacked.”

“The whole house?”

“Yes.”

He studied me, like he knew there was more to my answer. It took effort not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. But tonight was not the time to discuss the reasons I hadn’t been sleeping.

I lifted a hand to his hard chest, letting it run up his smooth cotton shirt.

Griff trapped it beneath his wide palm. “Miss me?”

“Did you miss me?”

“Yeah.” His free hand came to my breast, skimming the swell before moving to my neck. He had such large hands and long fingers that his touch started at my throat and wrapped around my nape.

One tug and I was crushed against him again, his mouth closing over mine, wet and hot.

I reached for his jeans, slipping my hand from beneath his so I could undo the button and zipper. Then I dove for his cock, finding it hard and thick beneath the fabric of his boxer briefs.

The moment I wrapped my hand around his velvety shaft and gave him a stroke, Griffin surged, picking me up from beneath my thighs to toss me on the bed.

He came down on top of me, giving me his weight as his mouth left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses across my jaw. Then he tugged and pulled at my leggings, stripping me bare.

“Take your top off,” he ordered as he stood, reaching behind his head to grab a handful of his shirt and yank it free.

Griffin’s body was a masterpiece of rugged lines and masculine strength. The dusting of hair on his wide chest. The sinewed forearms, tanner than his washb

oard abs. This was a man who worked to keep his body strong. Who didn’t believe in waxing or spray tans.

“Winn. Top off. Now.”