His words tickled her ear. “It’s definitely more intimate. I hope you don’t snore tonight.”
“I never snore,” he said in that haughty voice. “You, on the other hand, could put a train to shame.”
She snorted. “Now I know you’re lying. I’m a Southern girl. We don’t snore, and we don’t cuss.”
“Mmmhmm. Southern girls are clearly out of touch with reality.”
She tickled his sides before he grabbed her hands and tucked them into his grasp. Then she cuddled against his chest, his mouth teasing her neck, Maylee somehow drifted off to sleep.
***
The next morning, Griffin woke up with a raging hard-on, wild white-blonde curls tickling his nose, and an urge to spend the day in bed.
He sat up and reached over the woman clinging to his front to flick off his alarm, and noticed with amusement that Maylee didn’t even stir. Well, actually, all she did was burrow deeper against his chest, increasing his morning wood problem.
Damn, but he’d liked last night.
He stroked a hand over her out-of-control curls, admiring the way they fluffed and made her look thoroughly, adorably f**ked. So they’d had a pajama barrier. He couldn’t deny that fooling around with Maylee had been the best thing to happen to him in a long time. And for the first time, he was rather grateful for the royal wedding and Kip’s inconvenient chicken pox.
Leaning down, he kissed her cheekbone. “Maylee, darling, wake up.”
She mumbled something about feeding the hounds and flicked a hand at her cheek as if brushing away a mosquito.
That was . . . charming. With a grin to himself, Griffin reluctantly released her and made his way to the bathroom. He’d shower and then wake her up when he got back.
He undressed and examined himself in the mirror. He was smiling like a loon. No, he realized, like Reese did whenever someone mentioned Audrey. He normally just rolled his eyes at that dopey, lovesick smile on Reese’s face and figured Audrey could do amazing stunts in bed.
But Maylee hadn’t done amazing stunts. She’d simply been herself—excited, breathless, and wild with need—and he’d thought it was the most erotic thing ever.
Just thinking about her made his dick twitch, and he took himself in hand as he got into the shower, turning the water on. There were small red scratches on his shoulders from her nails, and that made his c**k ache all the more. He poured a bit of conditioner on his hand, flattened a palm against the tile, and jerked off, imagining her kneeling before him and burying his hands in those wild blonde curls as he f**ked her mouth.
When he finally got out of the shower some time later, Griffin wrapped a towel around his h*ps and emerged from the bathroom to see Maylee sitting on the end of the bed, blinking sleepily, her hair nearly standing on end.
“You didn’t wake me up,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes.
He moved to her side and leaned down to kiss those crazy, springy curls he was coming to love. “You seemed tired. I thought I’d let you sleep a few minutes more.”
Her cheeks flushed red at that, and she jumped up from the bed. “I should go get dressed so we’re not late for breakfast.”
As she hurried away, he admired the way her ass filled out his boxers. He was going to hide those godawful camouflage pajamas so she’d have no choice but to sleep in his clothing. He liked the look of that quite a bit. She looked like she completely belonged to him.
As she should, he decided.
Griffin dressed, throwing down a few ties to let her pick out one for him. She returned to his room a short time later, those delicious curls tamped down into a tight bun and her even more delicious body encased in a shapeless, demure skirted suit that he was pretty sure he’d seen the princess’s mother wear once. It made her look at least ten years older than she was. He frowned. He’d turned his delicious, tousled Maylee into this frumpy creature.
But she sailed over to him with a beaming smile, plucked a tie from the pile he left for her, and crooked her finger, and he forgot all about anything except that sexy little gesture.
“One of these days,” she teased as she looped the tie around his neck, “I’m going to show you how to tie your own tie. They have tutorials on YouTube, you know. Very informative. And they go real slow so you can follow along.”
“Lovely,” he murmured.
“And just think of how independent you’ll be.”
“Independence is overrated if it means I lose out on your putting your hands on me,” he said boldly, and was rewarded with her blush and a happy giggle.
“There,” she said with a final tug on his tie. “All done. Now come on. We have to eat a quick breakfast today because your schedule is full.”
He sighed. “I don’t see how it can possibly be full. The wedding is in two days and I swear I’ve visited every dignitary, museum, and charity group in all of Bellissime at this point.”
She laughed and gave him a saucy look. “I didn’t make your schedule, Griff. I just manage it.”
True. He could blame Kip for that.
They put the emeralds back in their velvet box, stopped downstairs to lock them up in a secure safe in the manager’s office, and then continued on to breakfast. They’d barely sat down before Maylee opened the computer and began to type, a look of concentration on her face. “We should ask the kitchen for a couple of sandwiches before we go,” she told him absently. “It’s going to be one of those days.”
He crossed his arms as a waiter put a cup of coffee in front of him, frowning. Damn it. The last thing he wanted was “one of those days.” He wanted a day of relaxation. A day of spending time with Maylee and seeing that beaming smile of hers again. He wanted to see her face light up like it had when she’d bought those ugly, ridiculous souvenirs. He most certainly did not want to spend it listening to a charity or three describing how his money would be best spent by them.
Griffin looked over at Maylee. There were hints of smudges under her eyes. She looked tired, and it wasn’t just from last night. He suspected his grueling schedule would exhaust anyone. He knew he was certainly tired of it. He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. “Have you had a chance to see much of Bellissime, Maylee?”
She was reading emails and her lips moved, as if she were committing the information to memory. He had to repeat the question again before she looked over at him. “What? Oh, no. We’ve been much too busy for that.”
Even as she spoke, she put her hands on the keyboard and began to type again. Then, she pulled out that ridiculous Post-it stack and began to make notes. He constantly found them stuck in the back of the sedan. He’d even found one stuck to the bottom of a shoe once. Just like him, she was running herself ragged.