Page 94 of Griffin

Waking up with Griffin in his bed is something else. He dots kisses down my neck to wake me, his hand stroking my stomach as he whispers in my ear.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Butterflies erupt in my stomach at his husky voice, and within seconds my panties are off, and we’re making love.

“God, I’m so fucking lucky to wake up to you.”

His whispered words, as he fills me with thick, long strokes, make me shudder with delight.

“I know,” I pant, lifting my hips to greet every thrust as I cry out. The vision of Griffin staring down at me is still enough to make me unravel.

Somehow, we keep it quiet, knowing Melody is asleep in the other room. But when I’m ready to explode, Griffin picks up the pace, slamming into me repeatedly as he kisses me hard on the mouth.

My mouth opens in a gasp, and my body refuses to move, frozen in the perfect orgasm as Griffin smirks against me.

“God, I love feeling you come.”

My core throbs around him as I nod, unable to say a word.

He does this every time — renders me useless. I vow I will have the upper hand soon, but he keeps beating me to it.

“Mmm. Blood.” Finally, I find my voice, and it’s making a joke.

“I don’t care.”

“You’ll never heal.”

Another smirk, accompanied by a flicker of his tongue against my nipple.

“Coffee?”

I can’t get enough of him.

I watch as he dresses, then listen to him making coffee in the kitchen below us. Curling up in the duvet, I shift on my side to gaze out of the window.

The sun is shining, but the heatwave has eased off somewhat, leaving it a mild summer’s day. My mind drifts to the conversation we’d had last night — and how Griffin said he’d make me a mother and a wife if I wanted it.

He has no idea how much I want it with him.

But first thing is first.

I need to speak to my dad.

I tell Griffin as much over coffee, and he agrees.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay. I want to go alone,” I say, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s a dad-daughter thing.”

Griffin hesitates but nods once he sees my expression. I’m a stubborn woman when I want to be, and I think he realizes that.

“You know,” Griffin says, wincing at a hot sip of coffee. “I still don’t get why your dad was pissed about Shelby and me.”

I cluck my tongue at him, and he laughs, reaching over to rub his hand on my thigh. “What?”

“Shelby and me,” I parrot back to him, making a face. “There was never a you and Shelby.”

Griffin chuckles, and I sip my coffee.

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