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His shower feels like it takes forever, and by the time he comes in a few minutes later, I’m zinging with anticipation.

I rise up on my elbows, the sheet draped over me.

Griffin’s wearing nothing but a towel.

Heat rushes between my legs at the sight of his narrow hips, the towel hanging low.

“Hey,” I say as he heads for the dresser.

Griffin pauses but doesn’t turn around. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

He gives this weird curt nod, then turns back to the dresser.

The tiniest prick of confusion twinges in me, but I banish it instantly. He probably thinks I want to go right back to sleep.

He pulls pajama bottoms out of the drawer and closes it softly.

I tsk. “You don’t need those.” Unable to wait any longer, I flip back the blanket and crawl over the bed to him.

He must have heard the creak of the springs, but he still hasn’t turned around.

I press myself against his back, slipping my arms up over his ribs.

The cool dampness of his back against my bare breasts and toweled ass firm against my stomach feel so good I let out a whimpery little breath.

“I had to work hard not to touch myself while you were gone,” I whisper. “I wanted to save it for you.” I slide my hand down his front and grin. Either I’ve made him very close to ready or my words have.

I move to slip my hand under the fold of his towel, but Griffin takes my wrist and presses my palm against his stomach. “Sasha, it’s late.” His voice sounds slightly tight.

I go still, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

Griffin lets go of my wrist and turns around, taking me in. There’s a clear rush of desire on his face as his eyes rake over my naked body.

He curses softly to himself. I hear afuck. But then he runs a hand over his face and says, “I was going to sleep out on the couch tonight so I didn’t wake you.”

My stomach was already tightening, but now it clenches into a knot. What the hell is he doing?

“Well, I’m awake now.” I know I sound defensive, but I can’t stop myself.

“You should go back to sleep.”

“You’re too tired?”

A beat passes just a moment too long, so I know he’s not being truthful when he says, “Yes.”

I pull back. “If you don’t want to fuck me, Griffin, just say so.” I get back onto the bed, feeling wounded. I don’t care about how petulant I sound. This about-face is bullshit.

I pull the sheet up tight around my breasts.

“Jesus, Sasha. It’s not that.”

“Then what’s the problem?” I’m being obtuse now, I know it. But I don’t care.

“The problem is I need to keep my fucking wits about me. It’s like I’ve told you from the beginning. I’m letting…feelingsget involved, and it’s not good for either of us.”

I sit up. “Who said anything about feelings? I’m just throwing myself at you for pure physical pleasure.” I wonder if he knows I’m the one lying now. I’ve missed him so fucking much, and it hasn’t been only physical. I missed his brooding presence. His calm and thoughtful responses to my questions. His eye on everything I’m doing like he’s pretending he’s not watching. That little curl of his lips when I’ve made him laugh that he tries to frown away. “You’re just a source of pleasure to me, Griffin.”