She raced to the connecting bathroom, her fingers crossed that Clarissa had stocked it with the essentials. What she discovered in the spa-like room was a fantasy come true—a floor-to-ceiling glass-enclosed steam shower unit that boasted an enormous rainfall showerhead and twenty—holy hell, twenty—side jets. Nearly orgasming at the sight, she hurriedly stripped and cranked on the controls.
Roughly twenty minutes later, her muscles the consistency of Jell-O, she staggered back into the bedroom. She finished wrapping the towel around her torso and swiveled in the direction of the bed. A startled yelp hiccupped from her when she spotted Griff parked on the mattress. Her hand flew to her clavicle. “You really know how to give a gal a heart attack.”
“Sorry. Should I have knocked first?”
Griff’s soulful eyes brimmed with enough worry she decided to let him off the hook. “Don’t sweat it. If all of today’s zombie excitement didn’t manage to scare me to death, nothing will.” She padded to the bed and settled beside him, tucking the towel securely beneath her butt. “So how did the grave-digging party go?”
A nerve ticced in Griff’s jaw. She patted his cheek. “That good, huh?”
“Clarissa and I shared a few tense moments, but the corpses are the only ones buried six feet under. All in all, a good sign.” He captured her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the center of her palm.
Remembering the unpleasant task he’d recently been engaged in, she cleared her throat. “Um, at the risk of spoiling this incredibly sweet moment, you did wash your hands, right?”
“Yes. And what’s this sweet stuff? I was going for sexy.” The tip of his tongue traced her heart line before he nipped the fleshy juncture between her thumb and index finger. Awareness tingled through her synapses, prodding her steam-relaxed body to suddenly return to life. She shifted restlessly, trying not to moan at the surge of arousal that moistened her sex. Griff seemed to notice her discomfort and grinned impishly. “Which reminds me…Clarissa sent me up here bearing gifts.”
She tugged her hand free and clasped it to its mate in wistful supplication. “Please, please say it’s a change of clothes. I really don’t want to resort to wearing this towel the entire time I’m here.”
“Afraid not.” He dropped his scrutiny to her décolleté. “And in my opinion, you look delectable just the way you are.” He followed up his statement by lowering his head and licking the water droplets beading on her collarbone. “Vanilla?”
It took a moment for her fuzzy brain to register that he was referring to the body spray she’d doused herself with. “Mm-hmm. It kind of makes me want pie.”
His tongue slid toward the valley between her breasts. He nipped her lightly before giving a low growl. “I’d rather eat you.”
Her breath hitched. Thank God she appeared to not be the only one who suffered raging horniness after escaping death. She dove for his zipper, but he strategically blocked her move by stuffing one of the sequined boudoir pillows in his lap. “I haven’t given you your gifts yet.”
The only gift she gave a rat’s ass about was the one swelling behind the fly of Griff’s jeans. “Later.” She lunged for the pillow.
“No. Now.” His laugh caressing her ear, he rolled onto his side and reached beneath the silk spread before sitting up again.
She gaped at the two items clutched in his fist. “Um…that’s a vibrator.”
He ran the pad of his thumb along the purple shaft of the jelly-like apparatus and flicked the bow tied just beneath the plump head. “Very observant of you, Jem.”
She glanced at the other object—a tube of lubricant—before blinking at him. “Why the hell would Clarissa buy me a vibrator?”
“She didn’t buy it for you. She conjured it.”
“Like from thin air?” She couldn’t shake the visual of a rubber cock materializing from the ether and thunking to the ground, where it kind of just bounced around on its fake ball sac. Crazy. She pressed her fingers into her temple in an attempt to get her brain back on track. “Anyway, I still don’t understand why Clarissa would—” A possibility slammed into her consciousness and she bolted upright. “Oh my God. It’s supposed to be a substitute for you, isn’t it?”
He choked on a stunted cough. “What?”
“Clarissa changed her mind about her insane plan of me sleeping with you and Logan and that—” she pointed a stiff finger at the vibrator, “—is her warped idea of a consolation prize.”
Shoulders shaking with restrained laughter, Griff rolled his lips so tight they almost appeared white. She snatched the sequined pillow and smacked him in the head. “I’m happy you find this hysterical, jackass.”
“Jemma…” Griff dropped the vibrator into his lap and wiped his watering eyes. “Where do you come up with these kooky theories?”
She started to shove from the bed, but he snagged her by the waist and hauled her against him. He nibbled the lobe of her ear and she made a halfhearted attempt to swat him away. Sliding lower, he nuzzled her neck. “You’re one of a kind, you know that? And I fucking adore that about you.”
Okay, maybe he wasn’t a total jackass. “Hmm, what else do you adore about me?”
He chuckled. “The fact you’re immodest enough to dig for compliments?”
She pinched his thigh. “That just lost you the few meager points you managed to score, Trudeau.”
“Ah, sweetheart, you’re killing me here.” His hands roved to her breasts and squeezed them through the towel.
She was killing him? Between his devious massaging and the vibrator poking her in the butt, it was a miracle she could formulate a coherent thought.
He traced the sensitive hollow behind her ear with his tongue. “You’re so goddamn sexy you make my knees shake.”
“I can so relate to that condition.” Moaning, she flopped her head back against his shoulder.
One hand abandoned her breast and followed the arch of her throat. His finger tapped her mouth, and she reflexively parted her lips. Needing no further invitation, his thumb brushed the sensitive inner tissue of her lower lip. “Baby, I was waxing poetic over your adorable qualities. Remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.” She scraped her teeth across his nail and earned his sharp, husky exhale. “Continue.”
“You let me win at Monopoly.”
“Not really. I just suck at that game.”
“Okay.” He paused for a millisecond, presumably to ponder further. “Your Miss Piggy impersonation is a dead ringer for the real thing.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Oh man, you really had to dig for that one didn’t you?”
Rumbling laughter floated down on her. “Fine, do you want me to point out that you have the endearing habit of bawling every time that ASPCA commercial comes on?”
She sniffled. “I can’t help it. Those sad little kitties get me every time.”
“I know, baby. You’re just a softie.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her brow. His knuckles brushed her cheek. “The truth is you’ve brought me sunshine every damn day of my life, Jemma. If I can give you half the same bliss…” The hand cupping her breast dipped lower and insinuated beyond the fold of the towel. He stroked over her navel before gliding across her mound. His fingers skimmed over her labia. She squirmed and he pressed against her inner thigh, encouraging her to straddle his legs. With a firm tug, he disposed of the towel.
Cool air wafted over her damp skin, raising goose bumps and her pebbled nipples. He plucked at one of the tightened buds the same moment his forefinger teased over her clit. She jerked at the contact, the sensations almost too exquisite to bear.