Griffin dropped her off at her hotel room with barely a word, and that was fine by her. She had to plan. Her bus ticket was still valid, and if she hurried with packing, she would absolutely be able to make it in time, and then she could go back to college and put everything else behind her.

 

Unfortunately, she was a terrible over-packer, and in her attempts to put together a normal outfit for the funeral, she had thrown her clothing around the room. She moved as fast as she could, gathering what clothing she could, but as her hands started shaking, she almost wanted to leave the entire thing behind.

 

Should she get a gun? The idea of it was terrifying, but was it really? Her father had taught her to shoot when she was younger, and she needed all the help she could get. The gravity of her situation made her feel almost dizzy…but she could do it. She just had to leave town first.

 

“What are you doing?” a voice asked from behind her. The rough and raspy voice was unrecognizable at first, and it almost made her scream, but turning around, she saw that it was only Griffin, and she felt a rush of both relief and frustration.

 

“Nothing,” she said cryptically, zipping up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

 

“You’re running,” he said. “Damon told you that it won’t matter if you run.”

 

“I don’t care what Damon says; I’m getting out of here. Maybe if you were smart, you’d leave, too.”

 

Throwing her half-packed bag over her shoulder, she moved to the door as quickly as she could, but Griffin was quicker and blocked her way. Annoyance once again burst through her, as she stared up into his handsome, impassive face.

 

“Let me through,” she said through gritted teeth.

 

“Not if it means you’re going to go out there and get yourself killed,” he replied through equally gritted teeth.

 

They were standing so close that Natasha could almost taste his skin from where she was standing. Anger, frustration, fear, and desire flowed through her with such intensity that she thought her heart might explode. She could hear the heaviness of his breathing and could feel the intensity of his own emotion. Her heart began to beat wildly, as the lust started to edge out all the other far more rational feelings.

 

God, I can feel his heat, she thought. She reminded herself of how powerful his arms had felt while wrapped around her on the motorcycle and of the hardness of the muscles in his chest that were pressed against her back. None of that mattered now, however, not when there was so much danger around.

 

She darted to the right in another attempt to get past him, the frustration edging out the other feelings into a more tolerable balance. He blocked her, of course.

 

“You’re not going to get your way this time, princess,” he growled at her. “I think you should just calm down and stop trying.”

 

“I’m not a princess!” she yelled at him, balling her hands into fists, as though wanting to punch him. She had never hit a man before, at least not in earnest, and the thought of it ran wildly through her mind now. Would he stop her? Would he take it? Did it matter if he did? Did he know who she was? She wasn’t sure her father had ever spoken about her to the other members of the club, and Griffin was young enough that Natasha had learned to keep her distance by then. Is that why he called her a princess? Because she had some obligation?

 

No, she wouldn’t accept that. She couldn’t accept that.

 

“If you’re not a princess, then stop acting like a princess,” he said.

 

“Well, if you’re not a jerk, you should stop acting like a jerk!” she snapped back.

 

Griffin stared at her impassively, almost as though his heart was made out of stone. Natasha wanted to see him break; she wanted him to lose it and actually fight back, maybe then she would be able to see who he really was instead of this sexy, dangerous stranger. Griffin was a man born to be undone, and part of her wanted to be the one to do it, no matter how inappropriate it was to be thinking such a thing right now.

 

“It doesn’t matter what I want; I’m on orders.”

 

“Oh, that makes me feel better.”

 

“Maybe it should!” he snapped, clearly trying to keep his temper, as she tried over and over again to get beyond him. At this point, Natasha knew that this wasn’t the way, but she felt as though she had to do something.

 

Plus, the more worked up she got, the closer they stood, and the more aroused she felt. A little voice inside of her head kept whispering, “Just do it!”—as she looked at the strong lines of his face and stared into those piercing blue eyes.

 

No, she thought.

 

She had to get out. That’s all it was; this attraction was due to her stress. There was no point in really acknowledging it, no matter how attractive he was. No matter how much she wanted it.

 

She raised her chin at him, almost as though she were begging to be kissed. “Do you always do everything that your boss tells you to do?”

 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and they stood there in silent tension.

 

“When it seems worth it I do.”

 

Refusing to acknowledge how that response made her feel, she took the moment of tension to attempt to move past him one more time. This time he grabbed her by the arms, holding her in place, pulling her close and staring directly into her eyes. For a moment, she couldn’t speak.

 

This is it, she thought wildly. It’s going to happen.

 

Instead, he merely moved her several steps back and took the spot in front of the door again.

 

Natasha’s heart pounded wildly as she saw him standing there, and she took a deep shaky breath. “Fine,” she replied coolly. “But can I at least shower and change?”

 

He smirked a little bit at her, and she fought the urge to slap him across the face. Or kiss him. Or both. Natasha gestured to her rumpled dress in exasperation.

 

“If I’m going to be facing potential assassins in a little bit, I’d like to at least be wearing pants when I do.”

 

Griffin looked around and shrugged.

 

“Sure,” he said.

 

“I don’t need your permission,” she replied without thinking.

 

“Then why did you ask me for it?”

 

For what felt like the millionth time, frustration overtook her, but she wasn’t going to let it get the best of her. She turned on her heels and grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt off of the mess that was the bed. Natasha could feel Griffin’s eyes on her as she gathered a few things, her hair dryer, some toiletries, and a hairbrush. She took her time a little more than she probably should have, bending over the bed and feeling her dress ride up as she did so, showing the backs of her thighs and the beginning curve of her ass. If Griffin’s eyes were lasers, they would be boring a hole right through her.

 

She couldn’t help but take a little enjoyment in that in spite of everything. Turning around, she fought the urge to toss a little wink his way as she strutted away from him and into the shower. Closing the door behind her, she made sure to lock it as hard and loud as she could so he would be able to hear it. Through the door, she heard him laugh a little, obviously getting the message. She grinned and began to disrobe.