Part 8 (1/2)
He'd heard of people pa.s.sing out when they had an o.r.g.a.s.m. For the first time in his life, he thought that might be possible.
Taking Emma's hands, he tugged her down to lie on top of him. Her heart beat wildly against his chest. Her warm breath coasted over his damp skin. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, content to simply lie there until morning.
She ran her fingertips over his chest. ”I don't think I can move.”
”You don't have to.”
”Yeah, I do. The air-conditioning is blowing right on my b.u.t.t.”
Griff chuckled. ”Then I guess you need my help, huh?”
”I would appreciate it.”
Still holding her tightly to his body, Griff rolled them so Emma lay on her back with him between her legs. ”Better?”
She smiled. ”Much.” She cradled his head and pulled him closer for a kiss. ”I have a question.”
”Okay.”
”Why do you keep your hair so much shorter than Rye's or Dax's?”
He had a simple answer to her question-because Jana had liked it short. But he refused to talk about his late wife when Emma was in his bed. ”It's easier this way. Just wash and go.”
Emma grinned. ”True. That's why I keep mine short. It's naturally curly, so I wash it and let it dry by itself.”
He liked her short hair. It was incredibly soft. He touched a curl by her ear, and smiled when it wrapped around his finger.
”I like it when you smile,” she said softly.
”It's been a long time since I've felt like smiling.”
”I know.” She cradled his face in her hands. ”You can talk to me anytime, about anything. Please remember that.”
A tightness formed in the center of Griff's chest. Emma had so many good qualities, the kind that a man wanted in a woman. But no matter how much he liked her and desired her, he wouldn't fall in love with her. He couldn't, not when his heart had been buried with his wife.
”Talking is highly overrated, especially in bed. Don't you think?”
A slow grin spread across her lips. ”Do you have a better idea for what to do in bed?”
He pressed his hardening c.o.c.k against her p.u.s.s.y. ”I'm sure I can think of something.”
Chapter Eight.
A delicious nibbling on her neck lured Emma from dreams to reality. Smiling, she rolled to her back to see Griff leaning over her. ”Good morning.”
”Good morning.” He dropped a kiss on the upper curve of her breast. ”Sorry to wake you, but I wanted to tell you I'm leaving. I have some errands to run.”
She remembered him telling her that last night after dinner, before he'd asked her to stay with him. ”Okay. I'll get dressed and leave.”
”Take your time. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Shower if you want to, or soak in the hot tub.”
”You have a hot tub?”
”Yeah, off the laundry room.”
Letting all those jets caress her sounded wonderful. It would be even more wonderful if Griff was with her. ”Maybe we can try it out together tonight?”
Griff smiled. ”Sounds good to me.” He touched her cheek while he kissed her. ”See you later.”
She watched him cross the floor, waving to him when he winked at her from the doorway. A few moments later, she heard the garage door open and his van start.
That's when she realized she had a silly smile on her face.
The smile didn't surprise her. Good s.e.x always made her happy. Great s.e.x made her ecstatic. Last night-and early this morning-had definitely been great s.e.x.
Emma sat up, leaned against the headboard and let her gaze slowly sweep the room. It was a nice bedroom with its double bed, chest of drawers and silk flower arrangements hanging on the walls, but not nearly large enough to be a master bedroom in a two-thousand-square-feet house. It was more the size of a guest bedroom, or an office.
Curious, she climbed from the bed and went to the closet. A brown terrycloth robe hung on a hook inside the door. After slipping it on, Emma examined the closet. Griff's clothes hung on one side of the small walk-in, shelves holding various boxes filled the other side. She curled her hands into fists to keep from exploring the boxes. She had no problem opening a closet door, but looking in boxes would be invading Griff's privacy.
Another thing that made her believe this couldn't be the master bedroom was the lack of a private bathroom. Griff's house was beautiful and obviously only a few years old. It would definitely have a private bath off the master bedroom.
She thought back to the white door at the end of the hall she'd seen last night. Following a hunch, she left the bedroom and walked down the hall.
One look at the s.p.a.cious room and she knew she'd been right. The master bedroom was decorated in muted tones of blue, gray and ivory. An ivory chenille bedspread covered the queen-size bed. A huge dresser sat across from the bed, a small sitting area complete with wing-back chairs filled the s.p.a.ce before the large windows. The chairs were pale blue with gray and ivory throw pillows. More small pillows in the same muted colors were propped on the bed. Silk flower arrangements hung on the walls, the same as in the bedroom she'd shared with Griff.
She wrinkled her nose. How boring. The room needed more color, more pizzazz. Maybe some jewel tones. Griff looked gorgeous in brown. Perhaps dark earth tones would be better in here. And metalwork or paintings on the walls to replace the silk flowers.
Shaking off the decorating pest nagging at her, Emma opened the door to her left. A light automatically came on inside the huge walk-in closet. One side held women's clothes and shoes. The other side held nothing.
Her chest tightened at the thought that Griff had moved from this room into that small bedroom when his wife died.
She touched a pale blue dress on a satin hanger. It appeared Griff hadn't disturbed one item of Jana's. Ten months had pa.s.sed since her death, yet all her clothes still hung in the closet. Her shoes still lined the floor. If she opened those drawers at the end of the closet, she had no doubt she'd find more of Jana's things.
Emma closed the closet door and leaned against it for several moments. Several pictures on the dresser drew her attention. She crossed to the dresser and picked up a silver-framed photograph. The dark-haired couple smiled at the camera, both with their mouths and their eyes. They looked happy and completely in love.
”h.e.l.lo,” a feminine voice said from the doorway.
Emma jumped and caught herself before she screamed. She juggled the frame in her hands, but managed to right it before it crashed to the dresser. A lovely redhead in her mid-fifties stood in the doorway, a curious smile on her face.
”You must be Emma.”
”I, uh...” Emma cleared her throat. ”Yes.”
The woman's smile brightened. ”I'm Beverly Coleman, Griff's mother.”