Accuse her of stealing, that dark side of me whispered, battling my heart and mind. If I did that, I knew with her attitude, she would never let that accusation go. There was something missing. It hadn’t all been a lie. A governor’s secretary, aka his mistress, had lost a tennis bracelet at brunch. When I’d questioned them, there was a guilt to her eyes that told me she was full of shit or up to something.
And even if it was the bracelet, I knew Marty wouldn’t steal. But why hadn’t she told me what she’d pocketed?
“Are you a good girl or a naughty one, Marty?” The words slipped past my lips, and I couldn’t stop them.Mine, my heart and soul shouted. Who the fuck was I kidding? I couldn’t accuse her of stealing! She was mine. Whatever hang-ups I had about whether or not I could be her man went out the fucking window the moment she licked her lips and left them glimmering with want.
“Griffin—“
“Uh-uh, spitfire. That’s not what you called me three nights ago, baby girl.”
She was mine.
I don’t know why I tried to deny it, to fight it. A hand slid to her hip, and I didn’t miss the way her breath hitched. She made this sweet sexy sound that was between a hiss and moan. My free hand rose between us, and with one single finger, I let the tip graze the soft line of her jaw.
“What are you doing?” Her voice shook, but her eyes didn’t waver from mine. Fuck, there was so much in that dark stare that fed into this thing I hadn’t known was possible a mere week ago.
“What would you do to stay?” I asked, toying with her. Taunting her. It was sick. It was such an asshole move, but my feisty spitfire didn’t disappoint.
“Are you threatening to fire me?” Her pretty, little chin rose with defiance, but it was the way her body melted against mine, swaying that much closer, that gave her away.
“You took something.” I was no longer talking about whatever was in her fucking pocket.
Three days ago, with one fucking look, she’d reached into my fucking chest and pumped up my heart to near bursting, to the point where fucking love songs suddenly made sense and colors seemed brighter.
“Something that wasn’t yours, spitfire,” I rasped. That quiet side of me, the leery one when it came to life, shrank inside of me, turned smaller and smaller as my heart and soul took control until it was gone.
“Griff—“ she whispered. I tipped her head up, forcing her to look at me.
“Now… I don’t want it back.”
“But—“ Her brows bunched, and the cutest little lines formed between her eyes.
“I don’t need it back.” It was hers. My heart. My soul. My body. Every part of me and everything I owned was hers. Jesus, I was a fucking mess. Whipped by pussy I hadn’t even tasted, lips I hadn’t even fucking kissed. But I didn’t need to. Martina Gomez was mine. I knew it with the same confidence I knew the sun would rise in the morning.
“Wait, Griffin—“ I shot her a look, and that pretty face of hers bloomed to life with the prettiest shade of pink. “Daddy,” shewhispered. I had to bite away a groan. “What if…” she started to say, and I blinked.
“Wait… what if…”
“What, little girl?” She moved closer. The hands she held at her sides slid up my chest, grazing the edges of my leather cut until they made it to the collar of the white shirt I had on.
“What if I can make a deal with you, Daddy?”
“Deal?” I croaked.Shit. Shit. Shit. My stupid plan of telling her how I felt after slightly messing with her about stealing something and getting fired backfired on me.
“A mutually beneficial kind of deal. The club makes those all the time, don’t they?”
“Spitfire,” I warned, not sure where the hell she was going with this.
“I’m not stupid.” Her nail dragged up and down the cotton material of my shirt, making me wish I could rip it off to feel her skin to skin. “I see the way you look at me.”
“Marty—“
“The way you want me.” She pressed herself against me, making sure to get close enough so her belly bumped against the hard bulge behind my jeans. “Maybe we can make a deal.”
“Deal…” I repeated. Everything inside of me was yelling to take her up on what she was offering. To toss her over my shoulder and not have her say a goddamn word until we reached my room, because if she did, I’d lose my goddamn mind.
“A deal,” she repeated. Her pretty gaze dropped to my lips as the flat of her palms firmed against my chest.
My sweet little devilish minx stroked up and down, slowly making her descent to the waistband of my jeans. We both knew exactly what she was doing. Tempting me. Making it virtually impossible to turn her down.