Was that Griffin’s weird way of asking her if she liked him? If she wanted to kiss him? Simply telling her he was bad with people and leaving it out there for her to interpret?

Suddenly, she needed to know the answer to that.

She flicked on the light and jumped out of her bed, crossing the room to the adjoining door. Without stopping to think about the hour or if it was polite to do so, she knocked quickly.

There was a loud rustling on the other side of the door, and a moment later, Griffin flung it open, his eyes slightly wild, hair mussed. “Maylee! Is—is everything all right?” He pushed into her room, and she noticed he had the bedside lamp in hand, brandishing it like a weapon once more.

Oh, dear. She’d scared him. “It’s all right,” she told him. “There’s no one in my room but you.”

He exhaled slowly and then looked over at her. With a low breath, he nodded and relaxed. “You startled me.”

“I’m sorry.” She crossed her arms under her br**sts, tucking her hands in and feeling a little stupid. “I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

“Don’t be silly.” He rubbed his face and returned back to his room to put the lamp down. “What do you need?”

I need you to like me for me, she thought, and was surprised at her own thoughts. “I was just, um, curious what you meant earlier.”

“What I meant earlier?”

“When you said I was impressive.”

His face flushed. That, combined with his messy hair, made him look adorably boyish despite the long, lean chest that was currently exposed to her view. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Oh.” She rocked on her feet, hating that he was dismissing her already. She felt like they were so close to some sort of breakthrough that if she didn’t say something now, the moment would be gone forever. But was she stupid to say it? Even as she stood before him looking like her normal self instead of the elegant woman she was earlier?

“Get some sleep,” he said in a gentle voice. “I’ll check your room for you if you like.”

“No, it’s okay,” she told him. “I just would like to talk right now.”

“About?”

She ignored that sharp, clipped word. “You and me.”

“What about us?”

Maylee gave him a straightforward look. “I want to know why you’re constantly trying to change me if you like me.”

He looked incredibly uncomfortable at that. “I’m not trying to change you.”

“You are.”

Griffin rubbed his face again. “It’s not that simple. These people live and breathe protocol. I just don’t want . . . I don’t want anyone to hurt your feelings by making you feel inadequate.”

“The only person who’s done that to me is you.”

He flinched and looked away.

“It’s true. Every time I let my guard down, you hurt me. And I . . . I like you. But I don’t know if I should.”

“I’m an idiot,” he declared harshly. “It was never my intention to hurt your feelings. Anything but that.”

“And do you like me?” It felt weird to throw it out there so boldly, but she did wonder if he didn’t know how to ask. She would simply have to do the asking. “For me?”

He was silent for so long that she thought she’d made a mistake in being so blunt. Her stomach churned nervously.

Then, he looked slowly up at her and reached out to finger a lock of her hair. It was damp, the corkscrew curl loose. As she watched, he wrapped it around his finger. “I missed seeing these tonight.”

“You did?” Her breath caught in her throat.

He nodded, seemingly fascinated by that curl between his fingers. “I kept thinking your hair looked messy and unkempt and wild, but I didn’t realize how much I liked that look on you until it was all smoothed out. You were beautiful but you weren’t . . . you.”

And that was what she wanted—no, needed—to hear.

Maylee stepped forward, moving toward him. She put a hand on the center of his chest, over his heart. He was incredibly warm. He didn’t move, but she felt him tense against her. “Can I sleep in your room tonight?” she whispered.

His gaze met hers, and she saw hope and passion there. His fingers lifted, traced the lines of her cheek. “Are you scared to sleep alone?”

“No. Can I sleep with you anyhow?”

He groaned and dragged her into his room.

Chapter Ten

Griffin’s warm hands took hers and he pulled her into his room. The lights were off, but from the light streaming in from her connected room, she could see a heavily rumpled bed. It was obvious that he wasn’t exactly sleeping soundly, either. Was he thinking about her, too? Unable to sleep because he had her on his mind? Or was that wishful thinking?

He released her hand and shut the door to her adjoining room.

It was pitch-dark.

“Should we get the emeralds?” she asked. “I feel strange leaving them in the other room without being nearby.”

“Fuck the emeralds.” His hands moved to her shoulders, and he gently steered her further into the room. “Come to bed.”

She giggled nervously. “You didn’t need much convincing, Mr. Griffin.”

“Please drop the ‘mister’, Maylee. And actually, you can just call me Griff, if you like. All of my intimates do.”

He was implying she was one of his intimates? A warm flush ran through her body at the thought, and her hands moved to cover his where they rested on her shoulders. “Griff, then.”

“That’s better,” he murmured.

“I didn’t bring pillows,” she said in a soft voice. “To put in between us.”

“I’d rather hoped we didn’t need them.”

“Me too, but I didn’t want to presume.”

His hands tightened on her shoulders, and he turned her around. In the dark, she could barely make out the line of his jaw, the gleam of his eyes, and that rumpled hair that rose so adorably from his head. “Maylee . . . before we get into bed, I just want you to know that I have no expectations of tonight. Whatever you want is fine with me. If all you want is some company, I’m fine with that, too. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. Understand?”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she told him, “but I’m a little confused as to why you feel it’s necessary to throw that out there.”

“Because, like it or not, I’m your employer, and I don’t want to use my position to hold power over you. That would be unfair to you. Outside of this room, I’m in charge. In here, what you say goes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” His fingers brushed her neck again in a soft touch that made her skin shiver with want.

“Anything I say goes?”

“Anything.”

“What if I told you to bark like a dog?”

He stilled. “Almost anything.”

She laughed again, mostly because he sounded so very disgruntled. Her hands moved to his chest and slid down the warm skin. “What if I asked you to take off your pants for me, instead?”

“Will you take off yours?”

“No, because I’m the one in charge.”

He grunted at that. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“I’m just flexing my muscle,” she teased. “But if you don’t want to, I understand.”

“So now you’re backing down?” There was a sly note in his voice that surprised her to hear.

“Well, since you put it that way. . . no.” Where was all this playfulness coming from? She didn’t know, but she liked it. “Off with your pants.”

“Done,” he murmured, and he pulled away from her. She heard the rustle of fabric and a soft thump as his sleep pants dropped to the ground. “I’m all yours.”

A sudden wave of shyness took over her, and Maylee giggled again.

“You know, Maylee,” he said, his voice taking on a clipped tone, “most men don’t appreciate a woman laughing when they drop their pants.”

“It’s not at you,” she assured him. “I’m just a little nervous.”

She heard him suck in a breath. “You’re a virgin?”

“Nope,” she said softly. “You make me nervous.”

“Until I take my pants off, upon which you burst into laughter.”

“I can’t see a darn thing,” she admitted. “So it’s not you, Griff.” His nickname felt odd, but pleasant, on her lips.

“We could turn on a light, I suppose, but I’d rather not.” He reached for her then. “You know, the blind see with their hands.” He found hers in the dark and placed them on his chest. “I think they have the right idea.”

She sucked in a breath. Her fingertips brushed along his chest, and she felt the delicate lines of his collarbone. “You want me to explore you?”

“I’d like nothing more,” he said, voice husky.

Maylee shivered at that, and she stepped a bit closer to him, only to feel his erect c**k brush against her thighs when she moved closer. Oh. He definitely was naked. Heat scorched her cheeks and she wanted to check him out with her hands to see if he was as long as he seemed to be, but she wasn’t ready to do that just yet.

So she let her fingers draw tiny circles on the skin of his shoulders, feeling the muscles there. Then, she slid them lower and felt his biceps, giving a sigh of appreciation when he flexed under her hands. “I thought you were more of a scholar.”

“I am.” Oh, his voice sounded so close to her ear, and so elegant. She could listen to him talk for hours and hours about nothing in particular.

“You have quite big muscles for a scholar.”

He chuckled. “Sometimes the only chance I get to catch up on my reading is in the gym. So I visit it fairly often. I like to be in shape in case one of trips is someplace off the beaten path. In college, Jonathan and I recreated Hiram Bingham’s original journey up the Peruvian mountains to Macchu Picchu and it nearly kicked my arse. After that, I decided I needed to be fit.”

“Mmm.” He definitely kept in shape. She squeezed his arms again, and then moved her hands back to his chest. Her fingers slid lower, and she brushed them over his ni**les, pleased to hear his sharp intake of breath. She wanted to put her mouth on them, to see how he reacted if she took one in her mouth and gave it a little tug with her teeth, but she couldn’t bring herself to drag her hands from him. Instead, she raked her nails lightly down his chest, a little breathless moan of pleasure escaping her when she felt him shiver in response.

“I love your hands, Maylee,” he told her in that elegant, husky voice that was knotting up her insides. “I was thinking of ridiculous lines when I came back here, to try and figure out how to get you to put them on me. I thought about burning myself with a curling iron like Alex, except I didn’t have one. And then I thought about simply telling you that I had a burning ache in my pants, but then I thought that sounded like an infection.”

She giggled again. “You really aren’t very good with people.”

“I’m really not.” He sounded rueful.

“All that just so I’d put my hands on you?”

“I would do anything and everything so you’d put your hands on me,” he admitted.

Oh. Such sweetly romantic words. Maylee moved in and put her hands around the back of his neck, drawing his mouth toward her own. She wanted to kiss him so badly, to make sure that what they’d shared the other day wasn’t simply a figment of her imagination.

His mouth descended on hers hungrily. She was taken aback by the intensity of his kiss, but only momentarily. Being devoured by this man, she decided, was a wonderful thing. And as his tongue slicked into her mouth and danced with her own, she gave herself over completely to the long, passionate kiss that seemed to arouse every last inch of her body.