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“You can do that?”

“Yes, because of the assigned guardianship. But because of the intimate nature of it, I’ve only used the link in extreme cases.”

“Like Uncle Harold’s zombie attack?”

He nodded. Jemma sat up, and he scooted sideways to give her more room. He detected the sound of her hard swallow and tipped her chin up, revealing the shame etched in her features. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I wish you hadn’t seen it. The fantasy, I mean. I know it’s silly, considering we acted it out in living color.”

Shit, now he really felt like a sneaky bastard. “Jem, if I could take back what I did, I would. Please believe me.”

“I do. And I’m not mad at you. I—I just don’t want you to think that I’ve been secretly lusting after Logan. That fantasy isn’t what I really want.” She traced the line of his jaw, her eyes shimmering with moisture. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

His chest tightened, filling with an almost painful overflow of emotions. He ached to pour out the feelings he’d been forced to padlock away all these years, but they remained hostage to the contract forbidding his verbal confession of love. He burned, shaking with the injustice of it.

“Griff, what’s—?”

He stopped her flow of words with his mouth and tongue, his fingers tangling in her hair. If he couldn’t tell Jemma, he’d show her. His body was the one thing the contract couldn’t control, and by God, he’d use it to his advantage. He nibbled and sucked his way down the arch of her neck, the sound of her breathless moans setting his blood on fire. Undoing the laces on her dress, he kissed her shoulder, following its slope with his tongue.

She sighed and reached for the neckline of her dress, helping him ease it down her torso. He kissed and suckled her breasts, drawing her nipples to stiff, hardened peaks. She tugged frantically at the waist of his jeans, and he stood just long enough to free them of their clothing before returning to his devotion of her body.

Licking over the soft swell of her belly, he ventured lower and nuzzled the downy curls covering her mound. He glanced up, ensured their gazes were locked, and licked her slowly from her clit down to her slit and back up again. He kept up his leisurely pace until she was shivering and gasping, her eyes beseeching him to take her over the edge.

And he did.

Throwing his teasing out the door, he gorged on her, his mouth and jaw voracious participants in the feast. Her sweet honey was delectable. The tiger inside him wanted to wallow in her juices, imprint his flesh with the essence of her scent so the entire world would know he belonged to her. She screamed his name as she came, her clit pulsing beneath the flattened tip of his tongue.

He reared up, settled on his haunches and thrust Jemma onto his waiting cock all in one fluid motion. She cried out, the silky warmth of her pussy rippling around him as she continued to come. He struggled to resist the lure of his own orgasm, determined to give Jemma everything that he was—heart, body and soul. Dropping onto his elbows, he took her mouth in a deep, drugging kiss. Her fingernails scored his back, and he relished the light sting.

“Yes, baby. Mark me as yours.” He shifted his hips, angling for the sweet spot that’d take her to heaven. Her litany of cries filled his ears, along with the four words guaranteed to rob him of his last thread of control.

“Griff, I love you.” Her teary eyes reflecting her declaration in watery excess, Jemma broke on a wrenching cry, her inner walls milking him with strong contractions. He shuddered, unable to hold back any longer, and pumped his seed deep inside her. An agonized roar ripped from his throat, but not the words he longed to return.

Chapter Sixteen

Going downstairs after she’d probably blasted everyone’s eardrums with her rapturous scream was more than a tad embarrassing. Of course, considering what went down in the kitchen, did it really matter? By now, everyone knew she wasn’t exactly mute during sex. Only with Griff, it went miles beyond sex. A more appropriate term would be out-of-body nuclear experience.

Her body heated all over again at the remembrance of their lovemaking. It’d been a perfect union of two souls. The only dark spot was Griff hadn’t said he loved her. She knew he did. There was no mistaking it in the way he touched her, and she could see it in the depths of his eyes every time he looked at her. Still, it didn’t quite extinguish the tiny ache of disappointment that sat like a stone in her heart.

“Ready?”

She glanced at Griff as he buttoned his shirt. The cornflower blue of the tailored shirt really popped against his golden skin and sun-kissed hair. He was so breathtakingly gorgeous she could actually feel her knees liquefying. The fact that he could have any woman he wanted wasn’t lost on her.

The stone in her heart doubled in size. Maybe she was just imagining something that wasn’t there in his touch. In his eyes. Sure, there was no mistaking their sexual chemistry, but maybe what she mistook for love was only Griff’s natural protectiveness. And wouldn’t that just make her a pathetic loser?

Before Griff could offer his arm, she escaped into the hall and sucked in a deep breath. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. And really, considering she needed to figure out how to take down a ghost and stop a zombie uprising, she didn’t have time to puzzle out her mixed-up love life.

Downstairs, she followed the low buzz of voices to the parlor. Logan and Clarissa immediately stopped their conversation the instant she walked into the room. She cocked an eyebrow. “Talking about me?”

A flush crawled along Clarissa’s neck. “No, not at—”

“Yep,” Logan butted in.

Clarissa’s glare threatened to incinerate. “You’re about as subtle as a flying mallet.”

“Maggot? Now is that any name to be calling me, shug?”

“I said mallet. Not—” Clarissa broke off with a growl when Logan flashed his incisors in a grin. “You are living proof that a witch should never pick her familiar when she’s doped up on pain medication for a bad wisdom tooth.”

Logan clucked his tongue. “Shit, I forgot all about that. How’s that tooth treating you these days anyway?”

“I had it extracted years ago.” Clarissa’s narrowed eyes suggested that she wished the same could be said about Logan. She swiveled her focus to Jemma, her glower dissipating. “Actually, we were discussing how you got your magic fired up.”

Which no doubt explained the vivid blush suddenly cresting Clarissa’s high cheekbones. Considering it’d been Logan doing the recounting, he’d probably been more than generous with the details. “Do you really think that’s all there is to it? That I can just snap my fingers and wham-blamo, Nettie’s defeated?”

“No, I doubt it’ll be that simple or easy. But at least now we have a fighting chance of stopping her.” Clarissa settled in one of the ruby-red armchairs and swung one leg over the other. “I was thinking after dinner we could get started on your training. There are several exercises designed to hone your magic.”

“Really?” She gave Clarissa a cautious look, praying that the exercise part didn’t entail breaking a sweat on some magical elliptical trainer from hell. Because that would really suck.

Griff strode into the room, cutting the conversation short and distracting her with his luscious, woodsy smell. Ms. Peach came toddling in right behind him, a scowl on her face. “I’m giving that scatterbrained Gloria a piece of my mind. She left two burners unattended on the stove. It’s a damn miracle the place didn’t catch on fire.”

Clarissa wagged a finger. “There will be no bickering tonight, only celebration.”