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“It’s okay, love,” Griffin assures me, taking my hand and helping me into the tub, the water kept warm by the heated jets.
I sink in and it feels like heaven. Then Griffin strips off his bottoms and steps in behind me and I have my own devilish angel to caress the sponge over my skin.
And wickedly toy with my flesh.
A shiver runs through me as his hands circle around front to cup the underside of my breasts.
“Fuck, love, you’re so sexy like this,” he says, his breath steaming my ear.
I laugh because there has not been a stage before, during or after my pregnancy when he hasn’t said something similar. There’s no disbelieving him, either, not with the way his hard cock presses flat against my spine.
Griffin leans back, pulling me with him. The angle of our bodies makes it easy for him to slide a hand between my thighs and begin his first gentle exploration of the night.
“Got a text,” he tells me as my eyes drift shut. “Harriet and Philip arrived safely in Italy. She wants a picture of Maddy at breakfast.”
A lazy smile settles across my face. I didn’t think we would actually convince the couple to take the trip. There is no shared blood between them and Maddy or between them and Griffin, but they are every bit the doting grandparents.
Harriet is already dropping hints about how Maddy needs a sibling, that it’s not only convenient, but also recommended, to raise them in the same age cluster.
“Do you think they’ll last a full two weeks away from her?” I ask.
“Probably not,” he laughs, rubbing a sponge in wide circles along my collarbone while his free hand leisurely teases my clit. “They will need at least half a dozen Skype sessions or Harriet will go into withdrawal.”
He nuzzles the side of my head as he changes subjects.
“Speaking of withdrawals, did you decide which grant request you’re going to fund?”
My mouth twitches. I would like to fund them all, but not even Griffin Montgomery is that rich.
“The concept on the oil skimming is really strong,” I start. “But, organizationally, they are a mess.”
“So that’s a hard ‘no’?” he asks.
“Unfortunately,” I agree.
He gives me a quick peck on the cheek, one of those autopilot “thank you” kisses he is prone to. That such a kiss should have any place in the bathtub perplexes me.
“Why’d you do that?” I ask, a good-humored suspicion coating the question.
“RiverRefresh can do just as much good for about the same price but turn a profit,” he answers. “And they have some patents I’m interested in.”
“Are you trying to poach one of my charities and turn it into a company?” I tease with mock outrage.
Griffin gives my nipple a gentle pinch.
“Your charities, love?”
I turn to face him, my wet, soapy breasts pressing against the hard plates of his chest. He doesn’t mean they are “his” charities because it is “his” money, but that they belong to their organizers, volunteers, and have more than just the Madeline Foundation writing them checks.
“You know what I was saying.”
“Yes,” he answers, delivering a kiss meant to smooth things over. “But I really do think they’ll serve the planet better as a business. Plus…”
The speculation in his tone and the quirk of one dark brow pulls my mind in a direction that has nothing to do with polluted rivers. My hand slides between us. Finding his still hard cock, I wrap my fingers around it.
His head rolls back, his eyes close.
“You’re killing my concentration, woman,” he lightly growls. “I was going to say I plan on giving you a little more work—and more staff to do it with. If that suits you.”
