“I’m mortified.”
“You’re turned on.”
Her mouth fell open. “I am not?—”
I slid my hand up her thigh, thumb tracing the seam of her leggings. Her breath hitched.
“Liar.”
“Griffin,” she whispered, but she didn’t push my hand away.
Hazel chose that moment to stir in her bassinet, making soft baby noises. Christ, she was going to grow up to be the champion cockblocker in her friend group. Kid had timing that would make a Swiss watchmaker weep with envy.
Violet immediately moved to check on her, but I caught her wrist.
“She’s fine. Just settling.”
“But what if?—”
“What if you let someone else worry about her for five minutes?”
Violet’s fingers tightened around the armrest, her gaze flicking between Hazel and me, then away, jaw working like she was chewing through arguments I couldn’t hear.
“Holly,” I called softly.
The flight attendant appeared instantly, professional smile in place. “Yes, Mr Michaels?”
“Would you mind keeping an eye on Hazel for a bit? We’ll just be in the back.”
“Of course, sir.”
Violet’s eyes widened. “Griffin, we can’t just?—”
“We can.” I stood, offering her my hand. “Holly’s got three younger sisters and a childcare certificate. Hazel will be perfectly safe.”
“But what will she think?” I hissed, keeping my voice low.
“That we’re adults in a relationship who want some privacy.”
“She’ll know what we’re doing.”
“So?”
Violet stared at my outstretched hand like it was a live grenade.
“Live a little, gorgeous.”
That did it. Her chin lifted, that stubborn spark flaring in her eyes. She took my hand.
“Five minutes.”
“We’ll see.”
I led her toward the bedroom at the rear of the jet, my pulse already quickening. The space was compact but luxurious with a king-sized bed, soft lighting and, most importantly, complete privacy.
“This is mad,” she whispered.
“Best kind of mad.”
