“Sorry, baby. I’ll warm your ass up in a second.” He winks at me before turning on the shower and checking the water temperature.
“Not sure my ass can handle anything else this morning.” Heat floods my body at the look he gives me.
“Oh, I think your ass could handle plenty more with the right prep.”
When my thighs clench together, he totally notices. With an ever-wider grin, and satisfied that the water temperature is perfect, Griffin lifts me off the sink, cradles me to his body, and pulls me under the spray. Between the heat of his chest and the warmth of the water, my chilly ass is quickly forgotten.
“Don’t want to put you down,” he murmurs with his forehead resting against mine. “But I can’t wash my hair while I’m holding you.”
We wash quickly, trading heated kisses and teasing touches. It’s…everything. This is what I always dreamed marriage could be like when I was a girl. Okay, so I didn’t imagine butt stuff and smoking-hot sex, but the tenderness, the closeness, the undeniable feeling of safety? Those, I imagined. The other stuff is merely a bonus.
It has my mind wandering to what the future with Griffin could look like. I’ve been finding myself daydreaming about it a lot lately, and it still freaks me out a bit, but not nearly the way it did when we first woke up married. I know Griffin doesn’t like that I’ve asked him to keep this a secret, and I hate that we’re lying to my brother and Isla, but I’m still not ready to let the world in. I need to know my own mind before I invite the opinions of others.
The crazy thing is, I’m realizing that my mind, and heart, are softening to my accidental husband more and more each day. That, when I picture being married, Jared’s stupid face isn’t even a shadow in my mind’s eye any longer. No, when I picture waking up each morning next to someone, he’s blond with shaggy hair, an impeccable jawline, hazel eyes, and a scruffy jaw. I think I did love Jared, in my own way, but those feelings have been so easily eclipsed by my feelings for Griffin that it’s clear Jared and I never would have had a lasting love.
But could Griffin and I? Is that what I want? Can I let myself hope for that? He’s every woman’s dream, isn’t he? Handsome, funny, so very kind, tall, muscular, supportive, smart…the list goes on. But he was my brother’s best friend, so I never let myself picture him any other way. Never thought he’d want me. I know Griffin believes he’s cursed, but I think he just dated shallow women who didn’t try to see past his easy smiles tothe incredible depth beneath. Some part of me is worried he has latched on to me because Ihaveseen past the surface. But I’m not the only woman who will. What happens when he meets someone prettier or richer or more interesting? Will I be enough?
I wasn’t for my dad.
“Hey.” Griffin palms my cheek. His voice is gentle as his hazel eyes search my face. “You’re thinking awfully hard right now. Want to talk about it?”
Shaking my head to clear it, I force a smile. What would I even say?
I thinkmaybe I’m developing feelings for you, and I’m scared you’ll realize you settled for me, then leave like my dad did?
It sounds pathetic, even in my head.
“Nah,” I say instead. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Griffin frowns as his eyes bounce over my features. Hesitantly, he asks, “Do you regret it?”
My body jolts at the worry in his tone. “What?”
His cheeks flush pink and his shoulders tense. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”
Shit. “No, not even a little. Not for a second.” I press my palms to his chest and my heart twinges when I feel how fast his is racing. “I’m sorry. I got in my own head for a minute, but I swear I don’t regret anything. I’m really happy.”And that’s what worries me.“You make me happy.”
“You make me happy too,” he murmurs, eyes softening. My stomach decides this is the perfect moment to growl. He grins. “Really fucking happy, sunshine. Now, let’s dry off and get dressed so we can feed you. We don’t want a hangry Mira.”
“No,” I agree. “We really don’t.”
twenty-seven
MIRA
A few days later,the incessant beeping of Griffin’s alarm clock has me groaning and pulling my pillow over my head. It’s early—the guys have practice at six a.m., so Griffin sets his alarm for five—and it’s not like him to hit the snooze, let alone ignore it altogether.
Reaching out blindly, I push Griffin’s naked chest, shaking him. He’s uncharacteristically far away from me in bed. And warm. Normally, he’s wrapped around me like a koala. “Griffin? Your alarm is going off. Get your sexy ass up.”
He simply groans, so I shake him again, then blindly feel for his face so I can poke his cheeks. When my fingers touch his skin, my eyes open, and I push the pillow off my face.
He’s burning up.
“Griffin?” Sitting up in bed, I find my husband sprawled out, arms and legs akimbo, in nothing but his boxer briefs. He’s pushed the blankets to the side so I’m still wrapped in them, but he’s completely uncovered. Sweat beads along Griffin’s furrowed brow, and his face is flushed. “Babe?”
He groans, stirring, but not opening his eyes. I grab his phone and turn off the alarm, relieved to end the squawking. Griffin must be relieved, too, because his brow smooths ever so slightly. “Baby?”
“Hey,” I murmur, running my palm over his forehead. He’s hot to the touch. “Can you open your eyes for me, big guy?” I need to get him some water and Tylenol, but first I need to see those hazel irises and make sure he’s with me.
