IKICK OFF MY BOOTS AND THEN FALL BACKWARD ONTOour new bed in Castle Sinta. A satisfied groan rises from deep within my chest. I spread out my arms and legs, wiggling into the softness of the feather mattress and relishing the feel of high-quality linens.
After settling comfortably in, I turn my head and watch Griffin splash water over his face, rinsing away the dust of travel. The room is fully furnished again. There’s even a new window seat and a grand total of eleven rugs on the floor.Eleven!
“You’re very clever to have ordered a new bed before we left,” I tell him. “And the rest is nice, too.”
Griffin threads his wet fingers through his hair, slicking it back. He flashes me a roguish grin and prowls over. “You’re very clever to recognize my cleverness.”
Awareness licks through me at the marauding gleam in his eyes. “I wish I’d thought of it. I would have ordered a bed twice this size.”
One midnight eyebrow creeps up. “How many people are you planning to fit in it? It’s already big enough for Lycheron and his Nymphs.”
I make a face. “Let’s not bring them into our bed. They were hard enough to deal with on the road.” Talk about temper. And libido. The Ipotane make Griffin and me look tame.
I grab the pillows above my head and drag them down next to me, finishing my complete destruction of the neatly made bed. “When we dropped them off, they made such a stink that the entire border must smell like horse manure by now.”
Griffin laughs. The rich, deep sound melts into me, warming my insides. He smiles easily enough, but he doesn’t often laugh outright unless it’s with me. I love being the one to make him happy.
I smile back—a wide, idiotic, joyful grin.
“They were great protection,” he points out. “Not a single creature bothered us on the way back.”
“True. Some even ran the other way.” I toss the pillows aside and then lock my gaze with Griffin’s. “So what’s next?”
His eyes heat up. “You. Me. Bath. That new bed.”
Desire whips through me on a web of white-hot lightning. It’s been days since we were last alone together. Still, I can’t help teasing. “Poor old man. So tired he needs to sleep. No more adventures for you.”
I prop my head in my hand, watching Griffin’s eyes narrow as he stalks the last few steps toward me—predatory, confident, all strong, loose limbs ready to snap into action.
“Old man?” he growls, looming over the bed.
I grin. “If I’m going to marry you, I should probably know how old you are. I’m guessing really old. Just look at you.” I poke his rock-solid abdomen. “So soft.”
Griffin moves fast, seizing me around the waist and lifting me high into the air. I shriek, my hair flying and my arms flailing as he turns, sits on the edge of the bed, and then drops me into his lap with me straddling him.
Laughing, I spear my fingers into his damp hair and grip the jet-black locks, tugging a little. His eyes turn hooded, silvery-hot, and he makes a gravelly sound in his throat. Griffin slips his hands under my tunic, settling them over my hips and backside. He yanks me hard against him, showing me just how soft he definitely isnot.
His thumbs skate over the strip of bare skin above the waistline of my pants. “Are you asking for a spanking?” he demands quietly in my ear.
Heated shivers branch out from the base of my spine. I pretend to pout, which feels ridiculous. “Poor dear. You’ve forgotten already. Iaskedhowoldyou are.” I enunciate carefully, since he’s obviously hard of hearing and going senile.
Griffin’s gorgeous, distracting mouth twitches. “Thirty-four.”
I gasp. “Youareold!”
He chuckles. “And you? I should know, too.”
“What’s the date?” I have no idea. All I know is that it’s raining outside for the first time in months, and the sound of the heavy drops hitting the marble below is like the constant, steady beat of a drum. The air smells steamy. Damp. Renewed.
Griffin tells me, and I laugh. “I turn twenty-four tomorrow.”
He frowns, stopping the light stroking around my middle that was driving me to distraction. “You weren’t going to tell me?”
I shift in his lap, trying to recapture the tightening and tingling in my lower body. “I forgot. It’s not important.”
He frowns harder. “Stop wiggling, or we won’t make it to the bathhouse.”
“Stop doing this?” I grind down on him with a leisurely swirl of my hips, moaning at the exquisite spark of sensation where our bodies meet.
