Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 1

entire thing was Julia’s fault.

Of course, considering pretty much every mess I’d ever

gotten into since she came along—seven and a half minutes
after I was born—was her fault, that wasn’t exactly a
surprise. If it hadn’t been for Julia, I probably would have
grown up an angel of light and mercy.

Hm. I thought about the fact that I’d spent a big chunk

of last night making out with Ethan on the floor of his
crappy studio apartment and winced. Okay, maybe not quite
an angel. Ex-boyfriend. He was my ex-boyfriend. I had to
start remembering that. Maybe if I wrote it on my hand. Or
got a tattoo. Whatever. At this point in my life I should know
better than to risk life and limb and having my driver’s
license revoked to rush across town whenever Julia called in
tears, even if it was a great excuse not to think about a big-
huge-massive lapse in judgment.

“—please, Nate. You have to do this for me. I can’t go up

there again. I just can’t.”

“You are honestly telling me,” I said slowly, enunciating

my words to the point that it probably looked like I was
chewing on my own face, “that you called me, crying,
claiming it was an issue of life or death that I get here in the
next ten minutes, because you need me to deliver some
coffee?”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Her eyes got big and sincere, and her lip trembled. She

nodded gravely. “If you make me get in that elevator and go
up there again, I’m going to throw myself off the roof.”

“If I—” I sputtered. “Julia, it’s your job. I’m not your

boss. I don’t care if you take the coffee or not. If you don’t
want to do deliveries, then quit. Or ask What’s-His-Name to
do it.”

“Quit? Are you crazy? I love my job! I’m not going to

quit!”

I threw my hands up in the air. “Then box up the damn

coffee, walk to the lobby, and deliver it to whoever the fuck it
is that’s so important they rate door-to-door Starbucks!”

The tears dried up like magic, and Julia’s hands landed

on her hips. “Nathan William Webster, you owe me.”

“For what?” I asked, incredulous. Not that I was exactly

keeping track, but at last count she owed me almost $100
bucks.

“At Mom’s Labor Day barbecue thing, I rescued you

from Grandpa. If I hadn’t been there to drag you away, you
would have been stuck talking to him forever.”

“I like Grandpa! I wanted to talk to Grandpa! You drug

me over and made me spend two hours playing Win, Lose, or
Draw with the Mississippi cousins! They kept guessing
words like ‘sodomite’ and ‘abomination’! And they didn’t even
let me start drawing before they guessed, Julia.”

There was a beat of silence while we both considered

that.

“Fine,” she finally huffed. “We’ll call that one a draw.

What about last week when I steam cleaned the entire
apartment?”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

“It only needed to be steam cleaned because your friend

threw up on the living room floor.”

“Well, I didn’t have to have them do

your room.”

“It was a coupon, Julia. It was going to be the same

price whether you had him do my room or not.”

Another long silence and I started to turn away,

victorious, when she said the one word that never failed to
freeze me in my tracks.

“Prom.”
Well. Fuck. It always came down to prom.
“Nothing to say, Nathan?” she taunted.
Okay, I maybe, possibly, ended up in the hotel room

getting lucky with her date while she sat in the lobby and
played Phase 10 with the night attendant at our senior
prom. But honestly, it was almost four years ago. How long
did I have to pay for one stupid mistake?

“Really? Again, Julia? How much mileage do you think

you can—”

“He was captain of the football team, Nathan, and I had

a crush on him for years.”

I blew out a breath. “Fine. What do I have to do?”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 2

really stupid thing was, when Julia drafted me to

deliver her coffee order, I’d been expecting, I don’t know, one
or two cups in those little cardboard sleeves and maybe a
biscotti. I hadn’t been expecting a stainless steel trolley
stacked with a variety of fifty-eight thousand coffee
confections.

“Wait. How do I know who gets what and—”
“Jeeze, Nate. I thought you were supposed to be a super

genius? Keep it straight, and whatever you do, don’t let
anyone at the Griffin Trust see that you don’t know what
you’re doing. They’ll eat you alive.” She paused for a minute
and shuddered in a way that made my blood go a little cold.
What was I getting myself into, here? Before I could ask, she
plowed on with her rundown. “The lattes are all at the front.
The cappuccinos are labeled CP, but make sure you don’t get
the ones made with soymilk confused with the sugar frees.
‘SF’ is sugar free, just lowercase s is soy. And you know it
has a double shot if—crap!”

“Crap? What crap? What about the double shot?” I

wondered if I was the only one who could hear the note of
panic in my voice.

“Never mind! There’s no time! You’re five minutes late!

You have to leave right now!”

“Wait. The double shot. Are those the capital Ds, or—”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

The elevator doors opened, and Julia shoved me

forward. “Capital D is decaf! God, I already told you that!
Look, just, don’t screw this up, okay. I won’t be able to pay
my share of the rent if I lose my job.”

Distracted keeping the coffee cart from spilling and

trying not to scream at my sister, I didn’t even notice the
man at the back of the elevator until the doors slid closed.
Once I caught sight of him, I had to physically resist the urge
to hit the emergency stop button and throw myself at his feet
because. Oh. My. Goodness.

He was probably in his mid-thirties, wearing a suit that

looked like it cost more than my car. His features were sharp
and coldly handsome. His shoulders were wide. And his dark
hair was dusted with a touch of gray at the temple.

He was a walking Authority Figure wet dream.
And I had a lot of practice with Authority Figure wet

dreams.

Of course, based on the snippet of conversation he’d

heard when Julia was shoving me on to the elevator car, he
probably thought I was a complete idiot. I blew out a breath.
My dick, which kind of like Pavlov’s dog had come to
attention in the presence of an attractive older man, deflated.
Maybe he was deaf.

I tried not to groan when he broke the silence, sounding

amused.

“Long day?”
The words were dripping with wry sarcasm, and my

spine cracked a little as I jerked to attention. Holy cow, my
wet dream had a clipped British accent that had me
checking to make sure I wasn’t going to drool on myself

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

before I answered. I tried to come off cool and pithy, but I
was pretty sure I only managed lame.

“You could say that. I should have had you hold the

door so I could remind her that she’s paid rent exactly twice
in the last two years.”

I felt much less like a loser when, instead of rolling his

eyes, he chuckled. I shivered involuntarily. It was a nice
chuckle. A really nice chuckle. Clearly, I was being tested
today by a deity with a really dirty sense of humor. On the
bright side, if I got wood, at least the coffee cart would cover
it up. I hoped.

“Were you going to choose a floor?”
He sounded mildly curious and definitely amused, and

before I could stop myself, I’d smacked my palm against my
forehead. “Crap. I didn’t ask her what floor I was supposed
to take this stuff to—what kind of place gets Starbucks
delivered, anyway?”

An eyebrow lifted. “The Griffin Trust, then. Looks like

we’re going to the same place.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “How did you—”
“It tastes like burnt hair, but I keep ordering plain coffee

in the hope that maybe one of these mornings they’ll produce
a cup of something drinkable.”

“It’s Starbucks,” I countered. “It’s supposed to taste like

burnt hair so they can charge you for shots of extra syrup to
hide it.”

“Mm.”
I had no idea what to do with that response. There

didn’t seem to be much to say after that, and we fell into an

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

uneasy—on my part—silence during which I had to forcibly
keep myself from doing a mental run-through of all the
cheesy come-ons I wanted to deliver. As soon as I got home, I
was going trolling for elevator porn, and that was that.
Looking for a distraction, I studied the cups and figured I’d
take a second to get the bizarre Starbucks code system down
once I got to the Griffin Trust offices. My organizational plan
went out the window, though, when three seconds after the
door to the trust’s office opened, an onslaught of men and
women in expensive suits—none of whom wore them quite
as well as the man in the elevator—came flooding through
the lobby headed straight for me. It was actually alarming
enough to make me forget about the long-shot possibility
that Plain Coffee Guy was in a perfect position to grab my
ass if he’d wanted to cop a feel.

The wave of people brought a cacophony of sound with

them—none of it the happy kind of noise.

“It’s here! What the fuck took so long?”
“Did you bring my macchiato? I can’t do the Allendale

call without my macchiato.”

“Damn it, I said ‘cinnamon dolce’, not pumpkin spice.”
“Give me that espresso! That’s my fucking espresso!

Don’t you touch my espresso!”

I felt a flash of panic and actually felt a little bit sorry for

Julia. “We were running a little behind today,” I started,
trying to keep my voice soothing. “If you’ll just form a line, I
can—” Clearly, the pack wasn’t in the mood to be
reasonable; someone threw an elbow, and it landed in the
vicinity of my spleen.

Hissing in pain, I stumbled backward toward the

elevator. I might actually have landed on my ass if a warm,

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

wool-blend wall hadn’t broken my fall. The space I’d
occupied at the back of the cart filled in like I’d never
existed, and just like that, I had enough. It was bad enough
he’d seen me let Julia—who was six inches shorter than me
and weighed 120 pounds soaking wet—push me into the
elevator. I didn’t want to look like a douche bag who let a
bunch of crazy people fighting for coffee push him around in
front of Plain Coffee Guy again.

I’d never be able to jerk off thinking about him if I did.
I let out my attempt at a traffic-stopping whistle and

yelled, “Everyone back away from the coffee cart! Right now!”

Heads swiveled and there was a moment of stunned

silence. I was starting to feel pretty good about the reaction
when, from behind me, an icy voice spoke, and I had a flash
that maybe I wasn’t the reason for the instant quiet.

“What do you people think you’re doing?”
One of the women who’d snagged a latte before I could

intervene dropped her cup on the gleaming marble floor.
“Mr.—Griffin?” Her voice was horrified. “Aren’t you—weren’t
you—the private elevator—”

“Is being repaired,” he interrupted coolly. “Everyone,

back to your offices right now. This behavior is unacceptable.
The next person from whom I hear so much as a breath will
find themselves walking to the unemployment office this
afternoon. And for God’s sakes, Glenda, clean up that
fucking mess.”

They scattered like roaches in a lit-up kitchen. Every

single one of them. Not that I blamed them. If I’d had an
office to run to, I probably would have been gone, too. One
lady actually darted past both of us and on to the elevator,

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

frantically pushing buttons until the doors closed. In three
seconds flat, I was alone in the lobby with the coffee cart and
the object of my desire, who I was pretty sure was named
Mr. Griffin. I looked around once more just to make sure.

“Wow. That was kind of—impressive, actually.”
A muscle in the side of Mr. Griffin’s jaw twitched.

“Quite.” His eyes were fixed on the spreading puddle of latte.

“Glenda?”
“In the elevator,” he bit out. “Clearly, it’s time for me to

find a receptionist made of sterner stuff.”

“You go through a lot of them?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“She’s a temp. My third.” There was a pause. “This

month.”

I couldn’t keep in the bark of laughter. “That is just—

look, Mr. Griffin, right?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “You
probably have—I don’t know—countries to buy and world
leaders to intimidate. Why don’t you go do your thing, I’ll
clean up this mess and get the coffee delivered to the right
people?”

He raised a suspicious eyebrow.
I shrugged in response. “I kind of owe you one. I have no

idea what half of the stuff on these cups mean. At this point,
I think you’ve got the troops terrified enough to just drink
whatever I give them.”

“There is that,” he acknowledged. “Carry on, then.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 3

ENDED

up using the extra Starbucks apron Julia shoved at

me as a towel to sop up the coffee mess and then took care
of most of the sticky residue—clearly, Glenda was a fan of
syrup shots—with Clorox wipes I found by the computer at
the receptionist station. Delivering the actual coffee was an
exercise in amusement. No one said a word as I placed
whatever cup I felt like on their desks. I did get a couple of
whispered thank yous, but those came on the heels of furtive
back-and-forth checks to make sure Mr. Griffin wasn’t in
hearing range.

I guess the guy ran a tight ship.
I was finished in less than an hour and found myself

dancing back and forth in front of his door. A blond
scurrying toward the restroom had pointed me toward it
when I’d asked where to find him. She’d refused to speak,
but using an elaborate system of hand gestures, I figured out
where she was telling me to go. Now I just had to decide
what to do about it.

On one hand, someone had to pay for the $200 in coffee

I’d delivered that morning. On the other, well, the terrified
staff had maybe freaked me out a little. Mr. Griffin didn’t
look like the Antichrist, but maybe I’d been too distracted by
my penis to notice. In the end, the money decided me.
Freelance web design paid okay, so I wasn’t a completely
poor college kid, but it wasn’t like I had $200 extra just lying

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

around to give to Starbucks. I considered just standing
around, waiting for him to come back out, but I couldn’t
hear any movement through the heavy wood door, and I
actually did have things to do with my day. Not, you know,
particularly important things, but still.

I knocked.
There was a long enough pause that I started trying to

work out ways to carve the cash out of my budget—because
no way was I opening the door without being invited; I was
poor, not suicidal—when I heard him call, “Yes?” sounding
equal parts irritated and distracted. And okay, it wasn’t a
clear invitation to open the door, but I decided to take it as
such since screaming into a flat mahogany panel didn’t seem
like it would be a good look for me. I pushed down on the
handle and stuck my head inside. Mr. Griffin’s eyes flicked
up.

“Oh. It’s you. Finished, then?”
Was it my imagination or did he sound slightly less

pissed off than when he yelled the first time? Maybe he was
happy to see me?

Hm. Probably not. I told myself to grow a pair and

pushed the door open a little further, anyway. “Yup, coffee’s
delivered.”

Mr. Griffin nodded and said. “Excellent. Thank you.”

Then he looked pointedly down at the open laptop on his
desk. It was a clear dismissal. Crap. I resisted the urge to
crack my knuckles.

“So, yeah, this is a little awkward but—money?”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

His head lifted again, and I realized that wow, even from

here I could see that he had blue eyes. Really, really blue
eyes. “What about it?”

“I, uh, think you might need to give me some.”
A flash of amusement crossed his face, and I felt the

tense muscles in my shoulders relax a little. He was still
terrifying, but it was a more arousing version of fear. “You—
think?” He repeated, his tone vaguely mimicking mine.

“Think. Meaning I’m not actually sure.”
“Why is that? And is there a reason you’re hanging half

in the hall?” He motioned me forward, and I stepped into the
office, feeling a blush start a slow burn up my cheeks.
Believe it or not, I’m actually not used to looking like an
idiot. The heavy door swung shut behind me, and I jumped a
little as it hit me in the ass.

“I—sorry. So the thing is, I’m usually not a coffee

delivery person. I was just doing Julia a favor. If you guys
pre-pay or something, no worries. Just needed to check. And
it didn’t seem like there was anyone else to ask.”

Since looking directly at him seemed like a bad plan, I

let my eyes flick around the office. It was massive—two walls
made entirely of windows, an enormous desk centered
against one of them. There was a conference table with
twelve chairs around it, a sitting area and fireplace with an
adjoining bar, two closed doors and what looked like an
elevator entrance occupied another wall.

“Julia? That’s your girlfriend from the lobby? She

usually does the coffee deliveries, then?” His voice, smooth
and deep, interrupted my casing of the joint.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

When I processed what he said, I choked a little.

“Girlfriend? Uh, no. She’s my sister.” Normally, I would have
stopped there, but a little devil on my shoulder jerked the
words out of my mouth before my brain could veto them.
“I’m not exactly a girlfriend kind of guy.”

And, okay, I’ll admit that my imagination is active. That,

combined with a large reserve of situational pornography to
fall back on, could easily have meant I was projecting, but I
absolutely do not think I imagined the shift in Mr. Griffin’s
features. That was interesting. I was pretty sure. I didn’t
really have time to do an in-depth analysis, though, because
he was getting smoothly to his feet and walking my way.

“Ah. Well, then, Glenda usually sorts the coffee

situation. What do I owe you?”

I nodded. “No problem. And like I said, either nothing or

$211.13. It could, uh, go either way.”

He prowled across the office. Stopping maybe a foot in

front of me, he reached around and pulled out a black
leather wallet. “I suppose safe is better than sorry?”

Okay, was that a—metaphor? Was he trying to tell me

something, or had my brain gone a little haywire at the
proximity? There was a good chance it had, because a foot.
Twelve inches. That was—really close. It was smell-his-
cologne-really-well close. The scent was subtle and spicy,
and before my brain even registered what I was doing, I took
a deep breath. Which, if you think about it, totally was his
fault for riding the line of appropriate personal space
boundaries, and oh my God, that was a smell I wanted to roll
around naked in for the next—shit.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Mr. Griffin had gone still, three one-hundred dollar bills

half way out of his wallet. One of his eyebrows lifted slightly,
and, yeah. I was caught. The blush I’d just managed to
battle back rushed up to my cheeks as I fumbled for words.
Again. Two hours ago, I was a reasonably articulate guy.
Crap. Crap. Crap.

“Uh, sorry. I wasn’t—that’s a—really great smell.” I

floundered. “On you. You know. Your cologne. I was just
smelling it, and—not that it’s overpowering or anything. I
just noticed it because you’re kind of close.”

My eyes got big because, that wasn’t at all what I’d

meant to say. And dear Lord, please make me stop talking.
“Not inappropriately close. That’s just dumb. I mean,
obviously. My dance space, your dance space, right? Okay,
I’m shutting up now. And I’ll. Just—you know what—I bet
you guys prepaid. And if not, call it a freebie. I’ll just get out
of your hair, and we can both conveniently forget that I exist
at all. Sound good?”

“My dance space, your dance space?”
I resisted the urge to smack myself in the head. Of

course that would be what he’d taken away from the insane
rambling. I blew out a heavy breath and flashed back to
Julia. I should have let her throw herself off the roof.
Explaining her death to Mom and Dad would have been less
painful than this.

“It’s a movie reference. I—never mind. Do you know if

this level of the building has roof access?”

The apparent non sequitur clearly threw him, and he

tilted his head. And who the fuck ever heard of a sexy head

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

tilt, anyway? “I believe that would be in the service stairwell,
one floor up. Why do you ask?”

“So I can throw myself off of it.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, and then Mr. Griffin

blinked. “That may be a bit extreme, Mr.—?”

“Nate. Nathan.”
“How old are you, Nathan?”
The sound of my name rolling off of his lips went

straight to my dick, and I stuttered a little when I answered.
Turns out, yes, I’m still capable of getting an erection under
conditions of extreme humiliation. “Twenty-two. I’m, uh, 22.”

“Twenty-two,” he repeated, one arm brushing across

mine as he laid a hand on the door handle. “That is very….”

I licked my lips. There were many ways this could go

from here, but since I now knew exactly how to get to the
roof and I had already pretty much made an idiot of myself, I
figured I didn’t have anything left to lose. “Legal.” I said. “It’s
very legal.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 4

next five minutes were fuzzy. There was the click—

unnaturally loud—the lock made when he pushed it closed
after his muscles unfroze and he said, “Legal. That was
exactly the word I was looking for.”

And there was the feeling of his body, muscular and

hard, pushing me against the door when he kissed me. How
exactly I ended up on my knees between his spread legs on
the leather sofa was lost in the haze. His jacket disappeared
somewhere along the way, and I rubbed my face into the
cotton of his snowy white dress shirt.

“This,” I gasped as he tilted my head back and bit the

cord of my neck, “is probably a very bad idea.”

He paused for a second and said affectionately, “Shut

up.” His tongue ran along my jugular, and I whimpered. Hot
hands ran down my back to my ass, cupping and pulling my
pelvis in to grind against an erection that felt huge even
through two layers of fabric.

“Right. Shutting up. So we’re—right.” I ground up into

him and moaned because, oh God, he felt so good.

This time the pause was longer. He didn’t let go of my

ass but nudged my chin down so he could look me in the
face. “Nathan, we can stop.”

“No! I just—do you do this—a lot?”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

His smile was kind as he reached up and pushed my

hair out of my face. “End up necking on the divan in my
office with substitute delivery persons fifteen years my
junior?”

“Yeah. That.” I was blushing again. Crap.
“I can safely say that no, I do not.”
I curled my fingers into his shirt. “I—that’s—good.”
Then his hands were moving back up my sides and he

was cupping my face. “I believe I told you to be quiet,
Nathan.”

Then he was kissing me again, licking along the seam of

my lips, sliding his tongue in my mouth when I opened it to
tell him that actually what he’d told me to do was shut up,
but that I didn’t mind because I knew he’d said it sexy.
Could you use sexy as an adverb for said? Not that it
mattered, because now he was licking into me, and I
definitely couldn’t talk with his tongue doing that.

And God, why had he taken his hands off my ass? I

pressed into him, wanting the pressure of his palms to push
against while I rubbed my dick, which was so hard odds
were, like, ninety percent sure that I was going to come
before we even got our pants off, against his. I felt myself
crawling up. I needed a little more friction. I just wanted—
but he was—wait, what?

I tried to chase his lips as he pulled back. Because no

way was I done. But he was pushing me away, sitting up,
smoothing hot palms down my shoulders. That was not
where I wanted his hands right now. My voice was shaky
when I finally caught my breath enough to ask, “Why are you
stopping? I don’t want to stop.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

“I think that’s enough for now, Nathan.”
Enough? Was he insane?
“But—” I sputtered. I wasn’t proud of it, but I did.
“Perhaps your sister will require assistance with her

delivery tomorrow?” He was standing up, and Ho. Ly. Crap.
At eye-level, the bulge in his pants looked like it went half
way down his thigh. It was, quite frankly, a little
intimidating. And really fucking arousing.

“I—tomorrow?”
He nodded. “If you’d like.” There was a pause, and his

voice got serious. “Only if you’d like, Nathan.”

I wet my lips. And nodded vigorously. “I’d like. I’d really,

really like. In fact, I could bring more coffee up right now. Or
I could just not leave at all, or—”

“Tomorrow.” His voice was firm.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 5

“

ERIOUSLY

? You want to do that coffee run again?” Julia

was standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips,
looking like she smelled a rat.

I shrugged, carefully nonchalant. “It seems like it’s

stressing you out. I just thought I’d be nice. Do you a favor.”

She slapped her hand roughly against my forehead.
“Ow! Jesus, Julia!”
“I’m just checking to see if you have a fever.”
I shoved her arm away. “I’m fine.”
“No,” she corrected. “You’re insane. But if you want to

deal with those crazy people, it’s fine with me. Just
remember to get the secretary to sign the credit card slip this
time. It’s a different person practically every day. I mostly
look for the person who seems the most suicidal.”

“You didn’t give me a credit card slip.” I was trying to

sound pissed off, but I didn’t quite make it. Who knows how
things would have ended if she had.

Julia shot me another suspicious look. “Seriously. I

think you’re coming down with something. Just remember, if
you get sick, I am not cleaning it up.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 6

HEN

I got off on the 48th floor the next morning, there was

a neat line waiting for me, and when I finished passing out
my goods, I had to clamp my lips shut to keep from
whistling. I knocked on the door to Mr. Griffin’s office and
shivered at the “Yes” that came two seconds later.

“Good morning, Mr. Griffin.”
He was already half out of his chair, and he paused.

“Unless you’ve started working for me in the last twenty-four
hours, which I must tell you would be quite disappointing,
please, call me Griff.”

“Griff,” I said and smiled. “I like that.”
He was wearing another expensive suit today, but he’d

already lost the jacket. His sleeves were turned back and
rolled up a little, exposing muscular forearms. The shirt was
blue, and it made his eyes look almost iridescent. I held up a
cup of coffee, working hard to keep my nerves in check. “So I
brought your burnt hair.”

Griff grimaced. “As lovely as that offer sounds, I believe

I’ve a taste for something else this morning.”

“R-really?”
“Really. Come here, Nathan.”
Probably my feet touched the carpet, but I really wasn’t

sure.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

His arms wound around my shoulders, and he tilted my

head up. The day before, I’d dressed in jeans and a hoodie
over a ratty Flash t-shirt. Since he hadn’t, apparently, been
offended by my wardrobe choices, and I didn’t want to look
like I was trying too hard, I’d kept the jeans but upgraded to
a button-up shirt over Green Lantern. His hands were hot
through the cotton as he ran them over my shoulders and
pushed my shirt off and to the floor. With my collar gone,
you could see the ghost of a pink mark on the side of my
neck. Griff thumbed it and smiled, wrapping a big palm all
the way around my throat.

I heard myself humming lightly as I swayed toward him

because, God, I liked the feel of his hands on me. I’m a
reasonably attractive college guy, and since my prom night
escapade with the captain of the football team, I’ve done
more than my fair share of sexual trial and error. I knew
what I liked. I knew what I wanted. And I knew that
theoretically when you distilled out everything else, it was
mostly an issue of friction. It made absolutely no sense that I
was reacting like this to a virtual stranger who really hadn’t
done much more than kiss me. But, damn it, I wanted him
to kiss me again. “Griff—”

“You’re a very sensual creature, aren’t you, Nathan?”

His hand slid down, cupping my erection, and I almost
choked on my own tongue. He bent his head and kissed me
while he backed me toward the wall. The wood paneling, cool
and unrelenting, was a stark counterpoint against Griff’s
mouth and the planes of his chest. Keeping me pinned with
his mouth, hot and hungry, he slid his palms down my sides
and back to the front of my jeans.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Before I knew exactly what he was planning, he had

them unfastened and pushed halfway down my hips. His
mouth drifted from my lips back to the mark on my neck.

“Oh. Wow. Oh.” I muttered, incoherent, as he sucked

sharply on the tendon. That was going to leave a mark. Holy
Lord, that was going to leave a wonderful, awesome mark.
My cock leapt in my boxers, leaking copious amounts of pre-
come. Then his hands were there, pushing down my
underwear and squeezing my dick, running his thumb back
and forth across the head, smearing the moisture there.

“Griff….”
“Relax, Nathan.” He pulled away from my neck long

enough to meet my eyes and smile down into my face.
Keeping up the pressure with the heel of one palm, he raked
his other hand back up my chest and held it against my lips.
“Lick,” he ordered.

I shuddered against him and did as I was told, wetting

his hand eagerly with the flat of my tongue. “Wetter,” he
insisted, and I felt my eyes close as I obeyed. I didn’t even
realize I was chanting until I felt his wet hand close around
my length.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”
And then he was jerking me off, fingers curling expertly

around my cock, working me wet and slick and just a little
rough. I realized dimly that I was thrusting into his hand,
chin pressed hard into my chest, ass slapping against the
wall. Griff nudged my chin up again and sealed his lips back
over mine, catching all of my little noises in his mouth, never
breaking the rhythm of his strokes.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

One of his thighs pushed between my legs, and I felt his

other hand slip down, cupping my balls, working them. I was
moaning into him now, humping his hand frantically. I was
close. I was really, really close. Probably I should—I tried to
pull my mouth away, warn him that I was going to come, but
he ground his lips forward, thrusting his tongue in and out
of my mouth and growling in the back of his throat.

And just like that, I was coming, hot, wet pulses that

filled his hand and splashed against my underwear.
Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped kissing me, but deep
in the throes of my orgasm, I hadn’t registered when. All I
knew was that he was whispering, low and hot against my
ear.

“Lovely. You’re such a beautiful young man. Absolutely

gorgeous.” And then his wet hand was coming up to my
mouth, fingers pressing inside. “Now, lick for me. Lick it all
away, Nathan.”

And I did, eyes locked with his as I cleaned every drop of

ejaculate from his hand. My breath, when I finished, was
heaving, and I could feel his erection, hard as iron, pressing
into my stomach. His pupils were blown wide as he stared at
me with a look of raw hunger.

I let one of my hands rest on his belt, vague thoughts of

returning the favor swirling in my brain. Once I got my knees
working, and maybe remembered how to breathe, I was
going to blow his—

I realized Griff was shaking his head about the time I

started to feel steady enough to actually tug on the leather of
his belt. He reached down and threaded the fingers of his
other hand through mine. I didn’t completely understand

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

what he was doing until he straightened up and started to
pull away.

“But, don’t you want me to—”
He cut off my words with a light kiss, shaking his head

ruefully. “Unfortunately, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes
that can’t be missed. The washroom is right through there,
though, if you’d like to use it.”

I bounced my head against the wall, feeling like a huge

tool. “Griff, I’m really sorry. That was—”

This time he laid a finger on my lips, and his eyes

crinkled a little with amusement. “It’s not a contest, Nathan.
It doesn’t have to be tit for tat.”

“I know that.” Kind of. “I just—I’d like to come back. If

that’s alright.”

Griff’s smile turned wicked. “I would be quite put out if

you didn’t.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 7

third day I brought coffee to the Griffin Trust—at that

point, Julia had ransacked her room, trying to figure out
what I must have either stolen or broken that I was trying to
make up for—there was a new receptionist. Unlike Glenda,
this one looked like someone’s grandmother. And not the
kindly, soft-lap-and-cookie-making kind, either. She had
iron gray hair, a pinched expression, and an envelope for me
from Griff.

“Mr. Griffin asked me to give this to you. He had to leave

the country unexpectedly this morning,” she said,
disapproval clear on her face.

“Oh. Well—thanks.” I had to tamp down a wave of

disappointment. “Do you know if he’ll be back tomorrow?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say.”
“Okay, then.” I started to turn around, but she was

clicking her tongue.

“No. He asked that you open it in his office.”
“In his—right.” And just like that, disappointment

shifted to curiosity. And arousal.

Even though I’d only been there twice, it felt strange to

go into Griff’s office without him in it. I half expected the
door to be locked, but the handle slid smoothly down when I
pushed on it, and I slipped inside. Considering that two of
the walls were solid glass, dark wasn’t really an option in the
office. But with all the lights off and not even a dim hum of

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

electronics in the background, it felt very still. I had to resist
the urge to say, “Hello,” just to see if anyone would respond.
Nerves humming below the surface, I glanced at the
envelope. It was blank.

I bit my lip and tore it open. Inside, there was a sheet of

Griffin Trust stationary half-filled with a messy scrawl.

Nathan—
I apologize for missing you, but unfortunately I was

needed at our Montreal office. A rather urgent matter,
unexpected but unavoidable. I’ve left something for you on the
conference table, though. I hope you’ll make use of it before
you leave. And if you do, perhaps you might also consider
this: the office is equipped with state-of-the-art teleconference
facilities. If you were to press the red power button on the
triangular console in the middle of the table, and at the prompt
enter the code 3749, a video feed will open automatically on
my laptop. You won’t see me, but if you sit in the chair at the
head of the table, I will be able to see you and, through my
Bluetooth earpiece, hear you.

Perfectly.
I’ll be back in town on Monday, but I do hope to see you

before then. Either way, stay in the office as long as you like.
You won’t be disturbed.

Fondest Regards,
Griff
I read the note twice before I worked up the nerve to go

to the conference table. Sitting directly in front of the head
chair was a squat, gray bottle of lubricant and a white box. I
sucked in a breath that probably drained the room of half its
air when I flipped up the lid and saw an electric blue butt
plug.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Oh. Boy.
My experience with sex toys amounted to not much

more than looking at them with morbid fascination at the
Adult Video Megaplex and a couple of very interesting
experiments with a kind-of girlfriend’s vibrator freshman
year before she figured out that she liked girls and I figured
out that I—really didn’t. At all.

This was far out of my comfort zone. I reached out and

ran a finger down from the tip to the flared end. It wasn’t
huge, probably the size of two fingers at the widest point and
maybe four inches long, but it was scary in a new,
fascinating kind of way. There was a ring at the base that I
knew was the handle. The plastic was firm but not hard, and
my stomach clenched when I realized its color almost exactly
matched Griff’s eyes.

Inside my jeans, my dick pressed hard against my

zipper and I felt a phantom ache in my ass. Was I seriously
going to do this? I picked up the lube and flipped open the
cap so I could dribble a little on my fingertips. Working it
between them, the glide was smooth and easy. Griff had
definitely gotten the good stuff. That deserved some
acknowledgement, right? Some appreciation?

I sucked in more air and, before I could talk myself out

of it, leaned into the table and turned the console on. I
pressed the code, and a computerized voice said, “Thank
you. Your videoconference is now connecting. Broadcasting
in three, two, one—beep—broadcasting now.”

My mouth went dry. We’re talking the Sahara. And I

couldn’t say a word.

Oh this was just—the seconds ticked by.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

I sucked in air again and finally managed to make my

throat work.

“H-hey, Griff.” There. That wasn’t so bad.
“So, Montreal? I’ve, uh, never been there. But it’s

supposed to be a really cool city, right? Hope you’re having
fun. Getting a lot done and everything.” I paused and looked
around the room. “Kind of strange to be in your office
without you. Of course, everything about the last two days
has been strange.”

I licked my lips and thought about that.
“Good strange, though. Really good strange.”
Looking around, my gaze landed on the bottle of lube,

and I reached out to grab it. “Thank you for the presents, by
the way.” I held up the bottle. “This, I absolutely know what
to do with. The other one—well—that’s a little bit over my
head. I mean, I get the basic concept. I’m a little limited on
practical application, though. Wish you were here to walk me
through it. No directions on the box, you know?”

I shoved a hand through my hair and set my jaw. While

I talked, some of the blood had left my dick. Extreme terror
will do that to a guy. I wasn’t sure what to do next. Probably
it should involve taking off some of my clothes, but that felt
like a very big step. All of a sudden, an idea popped into my
head.

“Hey! I almost forgot. I want to show you something.” I

was wearing a jacket and let it slide off my shoulders.
Tugging at my collar, I tried to pull it far enough away for
Griff to see the hickey he’d left on the base of my neck, but I
couldn’t quite get it. I steeled myself and, trying hard not to
think too much about what I was doing, grabbed the hem of
my shirt and stripped it up and off. Naked from the waist up,

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

I tilted my head to the side. The bruise was long and red, a
sharp mark that was tender to the touch.

“You definitely left an impression,” I joked. I don’t know

if it was the slight chill in the room or the fact that I knew
Griff was watching me, but I felt my nipples tighten into hard
points, and I let my fingertips trail down and bump over one
of them. I sucked in a breath. Sensitive.

I pinched and felt my eyes roll a little as I panted. “I’ve

always been a little embarrassed about it, but my nipples are
really sensitive,” I confessed. “That first day, on the couch,
the fabric of my shirt rubbing against them was driving me
crazy.”

Who was I kidding? Everything about that day had

driven me crazy. And it didn’t look like I was getting any
closer to sanity. I slid my hands down to the button of my
jeans and closed my eyes. I tried to keep my movements
casual as I unfastened them and slid the zipper down. And,
okay, this wasn’t so bad, really. My formerly-nervous prick
seemed to be on-board with the idea of getting naked. I was
more than half hard now, and I hissed as the band of my
underwear caught on the head when I pushed my jeans and
boxers down. Toeing off my shoes, I stepped out of my pants.

Probably I should have felt like a complete idiot, but

standing nude and alone in Griff’s office, knowing he could
see me, was one of the most erotic moments of my life. I took
a deep breath and brought my hand up, cupping my balls. I
had almost no practice with sexy talking, but I couldn’t just
stand there in silence. I bit my lip and decided to give it a
try.

“I—thought about you. All day yesterday. I thought

about how much I wished the come I licked off my hand had

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

been yours. Had been in my mouth because you put it there,
because I sucked you until you came in my throat.”

Huh. That hadn’t been so bad. I squeezed my balls one

more time, taking them to the edge of pain, then moved my
hand away to pick up the bottle of lube again. Flipping the
cap, I filled my palm with a long line of the slick liquid. I
rubbed my hands together just long enough to warm them,
and then I sank into the chair and reached down, closing my
fist around my cock.

It was hard enough to drive nails. I moaned

involuntarily at the pressure and slid my palm up and down,
tugging. Leaning back in the chair, I let my legs fall open. My
balls were hard and tight against my body. I wondered if
Griff could see below them, could see my—I let my fingers
dip down and slip between my cheeks, brushing across my
hole.

I shuddered.
“I want you to touch me here,” I whispered. “I want you

to touch me everywhere, actually, but especially here.” I
pushed against the ring of muscle. “I wish these were your
fingers. I wish you were here to open me up.”

I was stroking my dick now, smooth, even strokes. I slid

down in the chair and opened my legs wider, keeping my
fingertip moving back and forth on the outside. Slowly, I
started to push.

I was fourteen years old the first time I realized I liked

having something inside myself. I’d been in the shower,
jerking off for maybe the third time that day, and I reached
down to pull on my balls and accidentally touched my
asshole. It felt like someone touched me with a cattle prod,
and I came in pouring bursts against the shower wall. The

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

next day, instead of just touching the outside, I’d pushed a
finger into myself. I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a minute,
considering I woke up covered in jizz and lying on the floor of
the shower, finger still knuckle-deep up my butt.

Eight years hadn’t changed things much. My dick still

exploded like a bottle rocket whenever I had something up
my ass. This morning, spread across the chair for Griff to
see, I worked my finger in, keeping the hand wrapped
around my cock still and tight so I could concentrate on not
coming. When I was open enough to pull in and out, I added
a second finger. Fucking myself slowly, I let my other hand
start moving again, and I searched for more words. They
came easily this time, because they were entirely true.

“I want—God—I want you to do this to me. My hands—I

can’t get deep enough on my own. I want your fingers. I
want—everything.” I hunched back against my hand, hissing
again and scissoring my fingers. With the hand that had
been jerking off, I reached forward and picked up the toy. My
cock bobbed and leaked against my stomach. I didn’t have
enough hands to put lube on the plug, but I was open and
wet enough that I thought it would go in without a problem.
I’d make it go in if I had to; Griff asked for a show, and I was
going to give him one. Just to be on the safe side, though, I
lifted the plug to my mouth. It was new and clean and tasted
like rubber as I got it wet. I tried to make a show of sucking
it, but at that point I was getting impatient.

I pulled my fingers out of my body and lifted my legs,

catching my heels on the edge of the chair. I ran the plug
around my softened rim a few times before I started to push.
It slid into me slowly, the ring of muscle contracting closed
around it. I was gasping for breath like I was seventeen miles

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

into a marathon, trying to describe what was happening for
Griff, but mostly just choking out strangled bits of phrases.
It hurt more than I expected, but something about that was
sexy, too.

“Oh God, I don’t know if I can do this—I’m not open

enough. Need you here to help me. Griff. God. Griff. Won’t
stop, though. Want you to watch me do it. Need to practice—
I felt your cock—I’ve never taken anything that big, but I
want to. God, I want to.”

By the time I got the plug all the way inside myself, I

was nearly incoherent. But I’d done it. It was in me, just like
Griff wanted. This time, the hands on my dick, which I knew
rationally belonged to me but in my imagination were Griff’s,
moved frantically, sliding back and forth with wet, slapping
motion. I was writhing, squeezing my internal muscles and
humping the air, trying and failing to simulate the in-and-
out motion of being fucked.

I had to come. I was going to die if I didn’t.
From the console in front of me, there was a long beep,

then a computerized voice. “Incoming call from—Charles J.
Griffin. To accept the call, press answer. To decline—”

No way could I take either of my hands off of myself long

enough to do anything, but I kicked out with a foot, and my
heel miraculously connected with the green “answer” button.
There was a static hiss, and then Griff’s voice, rough, sharp,
wrecked. “Come for me. Now.”

And I did.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 8

weekend dragged by. I couldn’t concentrate. I was

snappish and scared and excited, and I couldn’t sit still.
Ethan had stopped by on Friday night. He was a good guy,
and I liked him, but we’d broken up for a reason. A good one.
One I’d spent several months expediently forgetting
whenever it was convenient for me. No matter how easy it
was to drift together, Ethan and I didn’t have the spark I was
looking for; he was a good friend, but that was it.

“Hey, Nate. Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab a

drink. Maybe go dancing?” He flashed dimples from where he
leaned against the door, but the boyish charm wasn’t going
to work this time. The attraction was still there, but I wanted
something different.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Ethan.”
His grin turned sly. “Okay. We can stay in, then.”
I let the corners of my mouth turn up into a goodbye

kind of smile. “That’s not a good idea. You should go,
though. I saw a flyer on campus about Spark—dollar you-
call-its.”

His smile faded a little, and he tilted his head.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Maybe we can get together in a few weeks,

have a drink or something, but right now….” I let the
sentence trail off and met Ethan’s eyes.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

He looked into my face for a long minute before he

glanced down. “We’re done, aren’t we? For real this time?”

“I hope not. I don’t want to lose a friend. But the other

stuff, yeah. It’s time, man.”

His eyes were sharp, knowing. “You found someone.” It

came out like an accusation, but I knew deep down he didn’t
mean it that way.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But I do know neither of us are

going to find someone if we don’t stop falling back on one
another.”

There was a long silence, and then he reached forward

and pulled me into a brief hug. “Just—take care of yourself.”

“You too, Eath. Now get out of here. There are several

hundred gay men at Spark tonight just waiting for you to get
there.”

He grinned. “Now there’s a happy thought.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 9

VEN

Julia noticed that I was twitchier than usual. She

cornered me on Sunday, her usual mask of sarcastic
indifference totally absent. “Nate, are you okay? For real?
You’ve been acting weird since Wednesday. And I—” She
broke off, eyes on the ground. “You know I’m not really upset
about the prom thing, right? It was just an excuse to get out
of doing coffee delivery. And I have rent money. It’s not a ton,
but—”

“Jules, you know I don’t care about that. I’ve had a

couple of good months with programming jobs.” I leaned over
and nudged her with my shoulder. “Everything’s good.”

She didn’t look like she believed me, but she leaned

forward and pulled me into a hug. “You know I love you,
right big brother?”

Oh jeeze. Clearly, I needed to get laid. Unresolved sexual

tension must have been leaking out my ears and making
people think I’d lost my mind. I hugged my twin and patted
her on the back. “I know, Sis.”

We pulled apart a little awkwardly, and there was a beat

of silence. “So, coffee Monday. Are you—”

“I’ll take care of it.”
By the way her eyes widened, I may have been just a

little bit too quick on that. But the moment of sibling
solidarity was strange enough to make her drop it.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 10

WOKE

up at 5:00 a.m. on Monday. I had class at eleven

o’clock, and coffee delivery was at eight. That left me just
over two-and-a-half hours to stress over important decisions
like what to wear, whether or not I should bring my
backpack, and if I should go with the butt plug Griff gave me
in my ass. In the end, I stuck with jeans but dressed up a
little in fitted black button down that I sometimes put on to
go clubbing, took my backpack, and decided to leave the
plug at home. As much fun as it had been, I thought maybe
today I wanted just—Griff.

Maybe I’d get lucky and there’d be other days to play

with it.

If I hadn’t had, oh, about ten thousand other things—

most of them X-rated—on my mind, I might have noticed the
looks Julia was sending my way as she loaded the coffee
cart, but for the most part, I was beyond caring. Even the
Iron Maiden’s dirty look when I stepped off the elevator with
the cart couldn’t bring me down.

I just had to deliver my goods, and then I’d go—“Mr.

Griffin asked that you go directly to his office this morning.”
The receptionist’s disapproving voice broke into my
thoughts, and I jumped a little in surprise.

“Oh—sure. So I’ll just leave the coffee?”
“I’ll be delivering it.” Her face was pinched. “Is there

anything I should know about who receives what?”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

I thought about that for about half a second. “You know

what, it’s pretty self-explanatory. Just—follow the letters.”

And then I was down the hall before she had time to

reply. Probably I was going to rack up some very negative
karma points for throwing her to the wolves like that, but if
anyone could handle it, she looked like a capable kind of
lady.

My stomach twisted a little as I rounded the corner and

saw Griff’s doorway. I stopped and looked at it for a long
minute. On the surface, it was really ridiculous how fast this
was happening. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I’d fallen in
love in the space of three hour-long sexual encounters—well,
two and a half, considering I’d been the only one actually
present for one of them—but I’d fallen in something. Lust?
Definitely. Like? There was some of that, too. We hadn’t done
much talking, but there was something about Griff, besides
his body, that made me want to keep coming back for more.

He—interested me—on a visceral level that I hadn’t ever

experienced before.

Almost at the door, I brushed past a man I vaguely

thought I recognized as venti Caramel Macchiato with an
extra shot of espresso, but his eyes hit the floor before I
could be sure. The tips of my ears heated. Other than the
Iron Maiden, who I was pretty sure disapproved of me even
though she’d only seen me three times, counting this
morning, I had been carefully avoiding any consideration of
what the people who actually worked at the Griffin Trust
were thinking of me.

Then I was at the door, and I didn’t have enough room

in my brain to care.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

My knuckles barely connected with the wood when it

was jerked open and a long-fingered hand wrapped around
my upper arm and pulled me roughly into the office. My
back hit the wood of the door a second after it clicked closed,
air rushing out of my chest. Before I could catch my breath,
hot lips were slanting over mine, feeding kisses into my
mouth. I groaned around Griff’s tongue, immediately on-
board with the plan.

“I.”
Kiss.
“Thought.”
Kiss.
“You.”
Kiss.
“Would never bloody get here.”
I panted as his hands roved up my chest. “Griff—”
“This is a delightful shirt,” he said, then grabbed the

untucked ends and pulled it up. “Now take it off.

I raised my arms reflexively. “Wait. Buttons.”
“It’s either over your head or ripped in two. I want you

naked again, where I can touch you, this time.”

Well, when he put it that way…. I didn’t think getting

tangled up in my own collar was particularly sexy, but Griff
didn’t seem to mind. He walked me backward to the sofa,
hands roving in constant motion over smooth skin. They
stilled at my nipples, tweaking, pinching—clearly, he’d been
listening when I told him they were sensitive—and then
dropped to my jeans, unfastening the snap and pushing
them down my hips. My underwear slid off with them, and I

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

stumbled a little as I forced my feet out of my tennis shoes
so I could step out of the pooling denim. My hand-eye
coordination was shot, and I was working under conditions
of extreme distraction, but I managed to start pulling open
the buttons of Griff’s shirt as we moved, and by the time he
pushed my back into the leather, I was able to curl my
fingers into the mat of hair covering the muscled planes of
his chest. And, oh God, the feel of his skin under my hands
was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Griff hissed when my nails scraped across his nipples.

He ripped his shirt off past his wrists and dropped it on the
floor, and I arched up against his chest. God, he felt good. I
didn’t really register that I was rubbing my erection back and
forth against the soft wool of his pants until I felt his thumbs
press into the cups of my hips.

“You’re making a mess of my trousers,” he growled.
I blushed and rolled my hips up, gasping at the scrape

of fabric over the head of my cock. “Do you care?”

“Not even a little bit.” He sat up a little on his knees and

used his upper thighs to spread my legs. I obligingly tilted
my hips up, arms sliding back to land over my head. I
stilled, letting him look at me, sensing that’s what he
wanted. His gaze raked over me like a physical caress that
ran from the top of my head to the tip of my cock. Griff
reached down and palmed my balls. “I’ve been picturing you
like this since you whistled Wednesday morning in my
lobby.”

I rocked into the touch. “I would have let you, that first

morning. You didn’t have to stop.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Griff clicked his tongue and bent forward, squeezing

lightly. “Darling, I didn’t.” His hand moved up, the backs of
his fingers bumping up my shaft, and my eyes rolled back in
my head.

“Wha-what do you mean?”
He was moving again, sliding his way down the couch. I

was far enough gone that I didn’t realize what he was going
to do until I felt him work his broad shoulders under my
knees. His breath was hot between my legs, and I whimpered
when he rubbed his cheeks, lightly stubbled even though it
was early, back and forth against the head of my dick.

“What do you think the last few days have been,

Nathan?”

“I—I don’t—”
“Foreplay.” Using the flat of his tongue, he licked me

without warning from base to tip.

I cried out, because, oh God, his mouth was just as hot

as I’d known it would be, and when he sucked me all the
way inside, my brain stuttered to a full stop. He cupped my
ass and tilted my hips up, lips sliding up and down my
shaft, tongue caressing the veins running along the back.

“God. Oh. God.” I was rolling my head back and forth

along the arm of the couch, trying to keep my hips still. I
wanted to push up into him, to shove myself down his
throat, but he was holding me down, keeping me from
moving. Something deep in my psyche I hadn’t even known
was there responded to the feeling of restraint, and I
shuddered. I felt myself leaking into his mouth. He hummed
around my dick, a sound I took for encouragement, as his
mouth slid up again. I felt the tip of his tongue slip into my

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

slit, lapping at the juices. I whimpered when he pulled off,
but then he moved down and laved my balls, hard and tight
against my body, and I was very much on board with that
plan.

“Griff,” I moaned again. “Griff.”
“Delicious,” he whispered into my skin. “So sweet and

hard for me.”

“Yes. For you. Just for you.”
One of his hands moved away from my hip, and I

watched with big eyes as he moved it to his mouth, wet
sounds drifting up as he sucked his fingers. His face, eyes
hard and hot, staring up at me from between my legs, was
maybe the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Then he pulled his
fingers out, and I felt him tracing between my legs, pushing
my ass cheeks apart so they could ghost over my hole. Then
he leaned forward again and—

“What are you doing?” I yelped, sitting up reflexively,

shocked when I felt the heat of his tongue where his fingers
had just been.

He pushed me back down, palm like iron on my

stomach, and I could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed
my inner thigh. “You know what I’m doing. Now relax, and
let me.”

I could feel myself hyperventilating a little. Obviously, I’d

read about it and seen pictures, but no one had ever actually
licked me there before. “I can’t—you don’t—”

He leaned back in and dragged his tongue over my hole

again, slowly this time. I brought my fist to my mouth and
keened against it. “Griff.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

“There’s a good boy,” he whispered when we both felt

the locked muscles of my thighs loosen and my legs fall a
little further apart. He used his palms to spread my cheeks.
“Sweet and pink and just for me.”

He lowered his head and ate me out, and I thought my

brain was going to explode. My cock ached. Physically ached.
I was writhing against him, rutting into his face buried
between my cheeks. There was a pool of wet pre-cum
puddled on my stomach. His tongue pushed past the ring of
muscle, and I was shaking all over, mumbling nonsense
words I didn’t even understand because I’d never felt
anything like this before, ever, and I wanted it to go on
forever, but at the same time I thought I might die if I didn’t
get more.

Like he’d read my mind, one of his long fingers joined

his tongue, and he pushed it inside, twisting, fucking it in
and out.

“More, more, another finger.” I chanted, and was that

my voice, broken and begging? It must have been because
Griff obliged, pushing his middle finger in, as well. My hole
flexed and tightened around them as they pushed and
scissored. His mouth moved up, back to my balls, sucking
them in the warm cavity one at a time as he spread me open.

“Turn over, Nathan.” His voice was a harsh command

that made the strange something curl hot again in the pit of
my stomach, and then he was pulling his fingers away, and I
almost cried at the loss. “I want you on your hands and
knees the first time I fuck you.”

Griff rolled gracefully to his feet, moving like a big cat. I

tried to follow him and made it into a sitting position before

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

his hands landed on my shoulders, stilling me. “Take my
pants off,” he ordered.

I leaned forward, eager to comply, and worked the

button open and the zipper down, pushing them off of his
hips. He wasn’t wearing underwear. The first look I got of his
cock made my mouth go dry.

I didn’t know if this was going to work.
Full and engorged, it was long—at least two or three

inches longer than mine—foreskin retracted over a head
wider by far than anything I’d ever attempted to take before.
I reached out to touch, fascinated, but stopped before my
fingers reached it, looking up into Griff’s eyes, uncertain. Did
I have permission? Was I allowed to—?

He reached down and wrapped his hand around my

wrist, pulling it the rest of the way. “It’s alright, Nathan. You
can touch me. You can do anything you want,” he soothed.

My fingers didn’t meet where they curled around him.

Tentatively, I stroked the hard length up and down, letting
his shaft slide back and forth in its sheath of skin. One of
his hands went to the back of my head, and he pulled me
forward. “Taste,” he whispered, voice firm.

I obeyed, musky essence exploding on my tongue when I

bent to lap at the head, and I moaned at the flavor. I cracked
my jaws open wide—I wanted more of his taste—just the
head felt like it filled my entire mouth, but I pushed forward,
trying to figure out how to suck him. Griff stopped me.

“It’s alright. I’ll teach you. But not now.” Then he was

guiding me back to the couch, laying me on my stomach this
time. The cool leather dragged against my nipples and
cradled my cock. My breath was coming faster as I felt a

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

wave of nervousness. I’d hardly been able to open my mouth
around it. How was I going to take Griff’s cock in my ass?

It was going to hurt. I knew it was going to hurt. But I

wasn’t going to say no. I wanted it. I wanted him inside me
so badly. I shivered, resolved. Then warm skin draped over
my back, and I felt small kisses traveling down the length of
my spine, massaging hands following.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Nathan,” Griff whispered

against my skin. “I’m going to take you, but not until I get
you ready. Relax, darling. Don’t be afraid.”

I bit my lip and rubbed my erection against the cushion

underneath me. “I know. I want—it’s—” Griff’s hands
reached my ass, and he squeezed. My words were lost in a
moan.

“Trust me.”
And then his palms were cupping my hips, pulling me

up onto my knees, my head still flush against the sofa
cushions. In this position, I was completely exposed,
vulnerable. I felt goose bumps race to cover my skin, and I
tightened my hands into fists, resisting the urge to cover up
or move. I trusted Griff. It had only been a few days, but I
did. And I wanted to show him that I did. There was a shift
on the cushions, and I felt him behind me. I heard a small,
plastic click, and then his hands were back, slick now with
more than spit and parting my cheeks again.

This time when he worked his fingers into me, he wasn’t

teasing. I could feel him, focused intently on my body,
expertly working me open, stretching and easing,
encouraging me.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

“You’re doing so well, Nathan. You’re opening for me

beautifully. Your body is amazing; it knows just what to do.
Such a good boy. I want to be inside you. I want to bury
myself in you. I knew you’d be this responsive. You love my
fingers in you, don’t you?”

And I did. I absolutely did. I don’t know exactly when I

started fucking back against his hand, but he had four
fingers in me, now, fucking me slow and determined,
occasionally curling up, pressing into my prostate and
sending fireworks exploding behind my eyes.

My cock, which had softened a little with nervousness,

was fully hard again, gliding back and forth across the
leather, lubricated by a puddle of moisture that had dripped
from its tip. Probably when we finished I’d have to apologize
about that, but I was far, far past the point of coherency at
this point.

“Griff. Griff. Griff.” There were other words, other things

my brain wanted to say, but my mouth couldn’t seem to
manage any more than his name.

“So close. You’re so close to ready for me, aren’t you?

You’re going to love the feel of me splitting you open. You’re
desperate for me to fuck you, aren’t you Nathan?”

“Yes,” I hissed, the syllables tearing from my throat,

which felt raw and achy. “God, I’ve never—Griff.”

“That’s because you’ve only slept with boys before. I’m a

man. And I’m going to fuck you.”

The words shot through my synapses like lightning. And

just like that, I couldn’t wait anymore. I shoved myself
frantically back against his fingers. “Yes. That. Now. Now,
Griff!”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

I heard the condom wrapper tear, and he pulled his

fingers out fast enough to leave me gasping. But then I felt
the blunt press of his dick, and he whispered, “Now,” as he
pushed forward, sheathing himself inside me in one long
stroke.

I screamed.
And I came, pouring into the sofa cushions.
Griff didn’t mind. He fucked me through my orgasm. It

wasn’t anything like the slow, deliberate strokes of his
fingers. This was hard and fast and brutal and amazing.
Pinning me to the couch, he pistoned his hips in and out,
balls slapping against my ass. His cock raked my prostate
with every thrust, and I hadn’t even gone soft before I
realized I was hard again.

“Yesyesyesyes,” I chanted.
We were wild and wet and drenched in sweat and lube

and my come, and when one of Griff’s hands left my hips
and curled into my hair, pulling my head back so he could
see my face, arching my neck and exposing my throat, I felt
an overwhelming swell of want like I’d never felt before.

“I’m going to come,” he panted. “I’m going to come in

your ass, and then I’m going to pull out, strip this condom
off, and you’re going to clean me up.”

“Yes,” I moaned, because as soon as he’d said it, I

wanted it. I wanted everything. I wanted to do everything
with this man. For this man. Anything. I could sense it
beneath the surface, the things we could do together. The
things he could teach me. And whatever it was, I’d let him do
it. Anything he asked, just so I never lost this feeling. His
hips snapped forward again and again, jabbing my prostate.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

I met him thrust for thrust, using my ass to coax his orgasm
from him. “Yes, Griff. Please. Come for me. Come for me.
Come in me.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He slammed into me. His

breath coming in ragged gasps now. He was close. He was
close. He was so—his body went still and his dick, if
possible, swelled even further inside me. I felt him pumping
into the condom, his fingers digging bruises into my hips
where he held me still. Then one of them dropped down and
wrapped around my cock, jerking once, twice, three times,
and I realized with utter amazement that I was coming again.

I knew it happened. I was twenty-two years old. There’d

been nights I’d had to jerk off twice to get things under
control. But never twice like that with a lover. Never twice
from someone fucking me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around
it, but it didn’t really matter, because Griff was pulling me
onto the floor, rolling over so I was on top of him.

I landed on his chest, sweaty and heaving from exertion,

and immediately I shimmied down his body. I didn’t wait for
him to tell me what to do. I peeled the condom off of his dick
in one swipe, then I was licking, lapping up the come that
stayed behind, burying my face in his balls and just—it was
maybe the dirtiest, most erotic thing I’d ever done. I don’t
know how long Griff let me stay licking and sucking at his
softening dick. It could have been five minutes, it could have
been five hours for all the processing my brain was doing,
but eventually he dragged me up his chest and pulled me
into his arms, where he cradled me like I was something
precious and rare and fragile.

My head under his chin, his biceps surrounding me,

hands running up and down my back, I felt a wave of

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

contentment unlike anything I’d ever experienced. This
was—this was—Griff nudged my head up and kissed me
lightly on the lips.

“You are extraordinary.”
I felt a blush creep up my cheeks and turned my face

back into Griff’s neck. “You’re, um, not so bad yourself.”

His chest vibrated with quiet laughter, and I curled

against the planed muscle involuntarily. How was it even
possible that a man who obviously spent his days doing
something that involved obscene amounts of money was
built like he was? I might have asked, but his hands trailed
down further, cupping my ass, fingertips running gently
down my cleft to flicker gently against my loose, wet opening.

“Would you like a shower?” Griff asked, voice sated and

indulgent. I felt a flash of pride at having been the one to
make him sound like that.

The idea of moving was not appealing in the least, but

now that he mentioned it, there really wasn’t much sexy
about post-coital stickiness. Of course, showering was going
to mean putting my clothes on, making my way back to my
apartment. The logistics were very unattractive. I must have
been thinking loudly, because a light tug on my hair
interrupted my train of thought.

“Obviously you didn’t explore before. The washroom has

a shower.”

He sounded amused again, but something a little bit

ugly flickered across my mind. I thought about our half-
conversation the first day, and felt a flash of doubt. Before I
could stop myself, I muttered, “Oh—that’s—convenient,” and
then had to grit my teeth at how that must have sounded.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

It wasn’t like we’d had a serious conversation about—

anything—actually. Regardless of what he’d told me the first
day, maybe scoring with random service people in his office
was something he did all the time. Really, there was no
reason to think the last few days were anything special for
him just because they’d been kind of incredible for me.

There was a beat of silence, and then Griff’s hand was

back under my chin, forcing me to look up and meet his
eyes. I did, for about half a second, then looked away and
flushed, trying to roll to the side. “Sorry. I don’t know why I
said that. So, a shower?”

Griff’s hands were implacable on my back, holding me

still.

“Nathan, look at me.”
I pressed my lips together, thought about it, and shook

my head.

“Nathan, please.”
Well just—I made myself look up, and something in my

chest squeezed a little when I saw the serious look in his
face. Griff waited until he had my full attention, and then he
bent his head and brushed his lips across my forehead. It
was sweet and affectionate, and not at all like the hot
urgency between us earlier.

“I know you’ve really no reason to believe this, but my

behavior these last days, with you—it isn’t something I’ve
done before. At all. I was telling the truth, that first
morning.” He paused and laughed. “Quite frankly, if it
weren’t such an—odd—time in this office, I believe members
of my executive staff might be questioning my sanity.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Suddenly, I felt guilty. Guilty for doubting him, and

guilty for expecting him to give me reassurances I shouldn’t
have needed. Maybe—maybe he’d like some of those, too. I
lifted up on my elbows a little and looked down at Griff. I
wasn’t sure exactly what to say, but it felt like my reply was
going to be important. I licked my lips and was a tiny bit
gratified at the way his eyes darkened. I told myself to focus,
though, and picked my words carefully.

“I—don’t usually do stuff like this, either. I mean—I’m

not—you know—I wasn’t—but this—” I made a vague hand
gesture that I desperately hoped Griff could interpret as I-
wasn’t-a-virgin-by-a-long-shot-but-this-is-still-far-out-of-my-
realm-of-experience-even-though-I-acted-like-a-total-slut.

Apparently it worked, because Griff’s eyes went soft

again. “I know, Nathan.”

I blew out a sigh of relief. Thank God. “I’m glad you

don’t—” another gesture I hoped he could interpret, “—
either.”

I could really get used to this mind reader stuff. For

some reason, when I want to keep my mouth shut, words
tend to pour out without my permission. But when I need to
actually have intelligent conversation, my brain mutinies.
Griff kissed me again, and I let myself relax back into his
hold. My muscles were starting to protest a little, and the
shower was sounding more and more appealing. But I
wanted just another few minutes of this. My mind drifted
and then latched on to something he’d said.

“What do you mean, that it’s an ‘odd time’?” I asked,

then added, “Not to, push or anything. It just seemed like
the kind of phrase that has a story behind it.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Griff stilled for a half a second, like he was trying to

decide whether or not he wanted to answer. “There is a bit of
one, yes.” He sounded, for the first time since I met him on
the elevator a week ago, a little uncertain. “Are you—familiar
with the Griffin Trust? The organization itself?”

I snorted into his neck. “I know you guys go through a

lot of coffee.”

“True.” Griff laughed. “As a whole, the trust is rather

like a very large, private company with several divisions. This
office manages my Midwestern property holdings—here in
Chicago, Indianapolis, St. Louis. A little over a month ago,
the vice president who operated the division had a heart
attack. He was a good business man and a friend—ran a
tight ship—but he wasn’t particularly skilled at delegating.
And passing as he did, so unexpectedly, left things here in a
mess. It’s been more than a challenge, getting everything
sorted.”

His words were light, but underneath them, I could

sense stress and pain. I squeezed his sides in an attempt at
gentle comfort. “I’m sorry you lost your friend.”

“Thank you.” He took another deep breath. “There has

been a bright spot, though.”

It took me a minute to realize he meant me.
“So, does that mean that once things get back to

normal, you’ll be—leaving?” I kind of hated the note of
please-don’t-break-my-heart evident in my voice, but I
couldn’t keep it out.

“I’d thought to,” Griff replied. “But then about a week

ago I chanced to meet an extraordinary young man, riding
up one of my elevators, and since then I’ve begun to

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

reconsider. I travel often enough that, really, I can be based
anywhere. And I’ve always meant to get to know more about
Chicago. Perhaps we could discuss it further over lunch?”

I grimaced a little. “I actually have class at eleven

o’clock, but,” I bit my lip, “I’m free for dinner. How do you
feel about Chicago-style pizza?”

He pretended to consider the question. “Pizza?”
I nodded. “Yup. I’m thinking it would be in my best

interests to show you a few really good reasons why making
Chicago your home base is a great plan.”

Griff raised one eyebrow and gave me a long look.
“And if after the pizza, you still need more convincing… I

have a few other ideas.”

A predatory smile spread across his face. “Pizza sounds

delicious. I believe delivery is in order, though. You’ve yet to
see my flat.”

“Your—flat?”
“Mmhmm. I think you’ll quite enjoy it.”
I nodded slowly. “Does it have a bed?”
“Several.”
“I like it already.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 11

DROPPED

a kiss on Griff’s shoulder as I hoisted my

backpack. “Whatcha reading?”

He looked up from the file spread across the dining

room table in front of him. “Nothing good—due diligence on a
German factory we’re considering offering for. All things
considered, I’d much prefer Stephen King. Are you off, then?”

“Yup. Class all day long, then I have a design project I

have to finish if I don’t want to be homeless next month.”

Griff looked up at me and frowned, and I knew what he

was thinking.

“Don’t say it,” I warned. We’d been dating-slash-having-

a-lot-of-really-incredible-sex for a few weeks, and the state of
my finances was something I could tell bothered him. My
parents paid my tuition, but taking care of my own rent and
food was a point of pride for me. I didn’t have a ton of extra
money, but I did okay. And maybe freelance web design
wasn’t exactly the glamorous modern art I wanted to do
when I grew up, but it was mine and I was good at it.

The fact that my boyfriend—lover, whatever—was a fully

functional adult and had more money than God sometimes
made things awkward on the picking-up-the-check front, but
we were figuring it out.

“You could—”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

“Griff, I’m not taking any money from you,” I

interrupted, irritation creeping into my voice. Okay, I thought
we were working it out. “We’ve talked about this.”

A muscle in the side of his jaw ticked, and he tilted his

head, voice mild. “And I wasn’t going to offer it.”

“I—oh.” I bit my lip. “You were—uh—saying?”
“I was going to suggest that you might like to come back

after you finish at school. You can work just as easily here,
can’t you?”

The thought was appealing. Not only was his Internet

connection lightning fast, Julia was having people over
tonight. Plus there was just the fact that he was here. But I
knew it was going to be a long night, and when I finished—

I started to shake my head. “By the time I get done

tonight, I’m not going to have the energy to do anything but
crawl in bed and hibernate. My class tomorrow morning is
canceled, so I was thinking I’d sleep in, maybe do some
laundry. Exciting stuff, but necessary, you know? Do you
have plans tomorrow night?”

Griff turned around in his chair and reached out slowly,

threading his fingers through mine. I let him pull me toward
him, stepping between his legs, anticipating a bone-melting
goodbye kiss and maybe some details on when I’d get to see
him again. My dick twitched a little at the thought, but
between last night and this morning in the shower, my body
wasn’t really in a position to get on board with being
unreasonable and skipping class for a morning quickie.
Although maybe we could—Griff’s voice distracted me.

“As I said, you might like to come back here and work.”
I frowned. “I won’t—”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

“Sex—or lack thereof—doesn’t preclude you spending

the night.” He interrupted.

I felt my eyes get big. This was uncharted territory for

us. “You mean—”

Griff cut me off again. “I have another meeting with the

fellow I’m looking at to fill John’s slot, but you’re welcome to
sleep as long as you like.” He reached into his pocket and
pulled out a key and pass card, sliding it across the table
toward me. “I’d been meaning to give this to you. And as far
as laundry, if you leave it in the hamper, Matilda can just
add it to mine.”

I stared at the keys for a long minute, then looked him

hard in the face. His words were casual, his expression
bland, but his eyes were—tumultuous. Surging forward, I
bent down and crushed my lips to Griff’s. “Well, since you’re
throwing in an offer of free laundry—”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 12

“

, Mom.” I bit my lip and thought fondly about the days

when phones had cords you could twist. The only thing I
could do with my iPhone was pick at the screen protector,
and that wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

“Nathan! Honey! This is a surprise!”
I felt a shot of guilt. I made it a point to call my mother

once a week, every Sunday at five o’clock, whether I wanted
to or not. Usually, I didn’t want to. It wasn’t that I didn’t love
my parents. They were amazing. They were the kind of
parents kids dreamed of having. Everything I’d ever wanted
to do, they’d been behind me one hundred percent.

Sometimes it made things really hard, because more

than anything in the world, I wanted not to disappoint them.
Me calling on a Tuesday was going to tip Mom off to the fact
that something was up, but if I’d waited, I might have
chickened out—and by might, I mean definitely would have.

“Is it—uh—a good time?”
“I always have time to talk to you, baby.” A note of

concern entered her voice and had me wincing with guilt. “Is
everything all right?”

“Yeah. It’s—it’s great actually. I—met someone.”
There was a pause, and then, “Sweetheart, that’s

wonderful. Tell me about him.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

I felt a swell of affection for my mother for the fact that

she didn’t even hesitate over the pronoun. Mom and Dad
didn’t always agree with or understand my choices, but they
always made sure I knew they loved me.

“He’s—older than I am. He’s smart and successful,

and—well, we’ve been together for almost two months, and I
was thinking I might invite him home for Thanksgiving. If
that would be okay. It’s a little fast, but—”

“Of course.” She paused for a second. “What about his

family?”

“He’s British—well, it’s a dual citizenship thing, I think.

His mother was American. But he was mostly raised in
London, and Thanksgiving isn’t a big deal for them.” I
paused and laughed, thinking about the insanity that was
our family Thanksgiving. “Best to break him in right, you
know?”

Mom laughed. “You’ll certainly know if he’s made of

stern enough stuff to stick around after a holiday with us.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Chapter 13

HERE

were benefits, it turned out, to dating someone who

actually appeared on those wealthiest-people-in-the-world
lists (technically, all that money belonged to the Griffin
Trust, but since Griff was the Griffin Trust, it was pretty
much the same thing), and one of those benefits was not
having to fly home commercial for Thanksgiving break.

“I’m not entirely certain this is a good idea,” Griff said,

eyeing Julia’s two pink-zebra striped suitcases and my
battered duffel bag.

“Can’t back out now, rich guy. You’re our ride home.”

Julia said crisply, dropping her laptop bag beside the table
with a clank that made my inner geek—not ever very far
from the surface, if I’m being honest—wince.

“I assure you, Daniel is more than capable of piloting

the jet to St. Louis whether I’m on it or not.”

His voice was crisp and wryly amused, and between the

tone and the accent, if you didn’t know him well you would
have assumed Griff was riding the line between utter
boredom and polite disinterest. In the three months I’d been
sleeping with him, though, I’d gotten to know him well
enough to realize that under the urbane Brit, he was
nervous.

Really, really nervous.
“No dice, Casanova.” Julia continued blithely. “Besides,

Mom and Dad are already confused enough about why we

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

aren’t driving, how we could afford plane tickets at the last
minute, and where the heck they’re picking us up. No way
are you ditching out on explaining that. It would be like—
boyfriend abuse or something.”

His smile went another degree of urbane, and his eyes

clouded. I felt a shot of alarm. Griff had clearly had all of
Julia he could take right now. I sympathized utterly but
knew there wasn’t much I could do. Some battles you had to
fight on your own. That didn’t mean I couldn’t be an ally,
though. I rounded the breakfast bar and squeezed Griff’s
arm, looking up into his face with a smile. He let his lips
twitch up a little, but the faint tension around his eyes didn’t
dissipate.

“Griff, it’s going to be fine. Mom and Dad know I’m

bringing someone home. They’re looking forward to meeting
you.”

His brow lifted slightly. “To meeting a boy you’re dating,

or to meeting a man sixteen years older than you who is
somewhat—well known—and who you’ve been sleeping with
for two months?”

Well known might have been a bit of an

understatement. Since I knew to look for him, all of a sudden
it seemed like Griff was everywhere. I accidentally walked
past a television tuned to Fox News the other day—slowly
enough to look at it—and saw my boyfriend doing a segment
with Warren Buffet. My dad watched the news. A lot. Odds
were he already had a pretty good idea who Charles J. Griffin
was. I was trying hard not to think too much about it.

“Hey, if nothing else, it can’t hurt that you’re flying us

into a private airport in your own jet,” Julia interjected

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

helpfully. “And you’re only like, six years younger than they
are. You should have a lot in common.”

This time, actual panic flared in Griff’s eyes, and I had

to resist the urge to murder my twin. I appreciated her
treating him with her version of fraternal affection, but
enough was enough. Griff didn’t have siblings. He didn’t
know this was normal.

When I introduced him to my sister about three weeks

after the morning we had sex in his office, there had been
some tension—mainly because she was incensed that I’d
stolen the world’s twenty-seventh most eligible bachelor right
out from under her nose. She remained convinced that if
she’d been the one to get in the elevator that day, she’d be
the one sleeping with a “fucking Greek god who owns half of
the world.”

But I liked to think that even though she was a touch

jealous, her general happiness for me overrode the emotion.
It also helped that when she shared her theory with Griff
over dinner one night—“I’ve googled you. You date women
too. Maybe you and I would be even better together.”—he’d
tilted his head and motioned for the waiter, asking him to
take Julia’s wine glass away because “Clearly, the young
lady has overimbibed. She’s having delusions.”

Griff’s reward for making it clear to Julia that what he

and I had was more than just an accident involved handcuffs
and a blindfold, and, okay, so I’d been kind of planning the
handcuffs anyway, but I was the only one who had to know
that, right? Since then, Griff’s relationship with Julia had
shifted a little into vaguely siblingish teasing. And just like
she did with me, Julia knew exactly which buttons to push. I
shot her a look, and she snorted.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

“What? Come on, he knows I’m just kidding.” She

turned to Griff. “You know I’m kidding, right? Nate told Mom
and Dad that he’s dating an older man. The money thing—
that might be a little bit of a surprise—but it’s all good.”

“Julia,” I ground out. “Why don’t you go down and see if

the car’s here?”

Julia glanced out the window. “Nope, not here.”
“Then perhaps you could go down and wait for it.”

Griff’s voice was tight and snappish, and the tone took both
of us by surprise. Whatever might be going on in his head,
Griff was always unfailingly polite.

Julia blinked, and realization that something was

actually going on spread over her features. “I—yeah—that’s a
good idea,” she said, shooting me a concerned look over her
shoulder as she headed toward the door, mouthing, “Is he
okay?” as she went.

I ignored her, waiting for the door to click shut behind

her. As soon as it did, I stepped forward and reached up to
twine my arms around Griff’s neck. Griff’s breath was
coming a little faster, which for him was the equivalent of a
panic attack.

“Hey, talk to me.”
He was perfectly still for a minute, then blew out a

heavy breath and wrapped his arms around my back,
burying his face in my hair. “Your sister should be in
politics. She’s very good at sussing out vulnerabilities.”

I smiled against his cheek. “She must have really gotten

to you this time. You’re using Oxford slang.”

His brow furrowed. “Vulnerabilities?”
“No, ‘sussing’. But it’s okay. That’s a sexy one.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Griff rolled his eyes. “You think they’re all sexy.”
“Not even close,” I protested. “Remember last week when

you said ‘acta’, and it took me fifteen minutes to figure out
that you were talking about my driver’s license, not Marlon
Brando? Now quit trying to distract me and talk.”

There was a long pause. “I may be a bit—nervous—

about meeting your family.”

I felt my heart melt just a little. Going up on my toes, I

bumped our noses together. “Believe it or not, Griff, I
actually knew that.”

And if I were entirely honest, I was nervous about him

meeting them.

The thing was, on paper Griff and I shouldn’t work. At

all. There was the age difference, but it was more than that.
Griff had grown up in the lap of luxury as the heir to a huge
fortune, a fortune that he’d taken control of and started
growing around the same age I’d mastered the art of creating
fake IDs.

He went to Oxford and studied global finance.
I was a graphic design major at the University of Illinois

in Chicago.

My parents were both teachers in the Belleville public

school system.

Griff had never actually been inside a public school.
But somehow when we were together, that didn’t matter

so much. The first night in his apartment, eating dinner,
there’d been a few minutes of awkward silence, but then we
started talking, and things just—clicked. Plus, the sex was
insanely hot, which I had to admit was a huge bonus.

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

In spite of all that, I knew our fledgling relationship

wasn’t perfect. He was a fiscal Republican, for God’s sake,
which, let me tell you, still threw me for kind of a loop. He’d
explained it with a shrug of his shoulders. “You Americans
let the social issues bog down your politics. What does men
getting married have to do with the price of gold on the open
market?”

And the first time he took me to a business dinner as

his date, I’d been so nervous, I threw up and had to change
my tie before the car even got to Griff’s apartment to pick us
up. But I’d made it through. What got me over the hump had
been replaying what he told me in the bathroom as he
pressed a damp washcloth into the back of my neck.

I reached up and cupped Griff’s cheeks. “I won’t make

you do this. But please understand, I very much want you
with me.”

Griff’s eyes lightened a bit. “Hm, now where have I

heard that before?” he teased.

I tried to mimic his raised eyebrow, but the fact that

both of them went up at the same time no matter how hard I
tried to do the single lift probably ruined the effect a bit. “A
very wise man said something like that to me not that long
ago. I thought it seemed worth repeating.”

“Wise?”
I leaned up and kissed him playfully.
“And handsome.”
Another kiss, a little longer this time.
“And smart.”

Slow Burn | Dawn Douglas

Kiss number three, slipping my tongue between the

seam of his lips.

“And very, very sexy.”
I rubbed against his thigh, letting him feel my erection

through our pants.

“You are a terrible tease,” Griff protested with a growl.

“And don’t think I don’t know that you’re trying to distract
me.”

“Is it working?”
“Yes.”
The best thing about a private plane is never having a

line to get through security. And the second best thing is, it
never leaves without you. Even if you’re half an hour late
because you got distracted deep-throating your boyfriend in
your dining room.

About the Author

AWN

OUGLAS

moved to suburban San Antonio, Texas,

from Illinois in 2004. She realized she wasn’t in Kansas
anymore when she went to a meeting of her local Democratic
party and she and the organizer were the only ones there!
Dawn was a reporter for several years but now works in
marketing. Next to spending time with her husband and
daughter, writing anything from freelance news features to
fiction is her favorite thing to do. In 2010, Dawn placed third
in a national humor writing competition sponsored by News
Portal Corporation.
You can write to Dawn at

dawndouglas1981@gmail.com

or follow her blog at

http://dawndouglas.blogspot.com

Also from

AWN

OUGLAS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Catt Ford

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon
conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No
part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To
request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 382 NE 191st Street
#88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

Released in the United States of America
July 2012

eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-605-1

Document Outline

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About the Author
Also from Dawn Douglas
Copyright

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