The security officer left, and Maylee shut the door behind him. Now, it was just Griffin and Maylee in her room. He kept his eyes on her face as she turned around, all soft and curvy in his shirt. Her round face looked exhausted, though she tried to give him a game smile. "I guess we've had our excitement for the evening," Maylee said.
Griffin examined her face closely. "Are you all right?" She didn't sound like her normal cheery self.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I feel like a ninny. Maybe I should have just talked to him instead of screaming my fool head off."
"He broke into your room. You absolutely did the right thing." He squeezed her shoulder.
She gave him a tremulous smile. "I guess."
Griffin was already impressed at her trustworthiness. She hadn't even considered giving details to the paparazzi. She'd immediately thought of defending his reputation. That kind of loyalty couldn't be bought, no matter the price. He'd give her a nice bonus when they got home, he thought. But she still looked so troubled and that bothered him.
I need a hug, she'd told him when she was drugged up on the plane.
He considered her. She still seemed lost and small and lonely.
So he pulled her closer to him and gave her an awkward hug. It wasn't his normal thing to do. He was terrible at comforting, in fact. But she'd wanted a hug in the past when she'd cried. This he could do, he supposed.
Maylee stiffened in surprise and then melted against him a moment later. She was all warm curves, and he was surprised at how good she felt in his arms. His hand rubbed her back, and he tried not to think about her being na**d under the flimsy fabric of his shirt.
Then he released her. "Better?"
A giggle escaped her. "I have to admit, Mr. Griffin, I didn't peg you for much of a hugger."
"It seemed appropriate."
She turned and looked at her room again, then bit her lip.
"What?" he asked.
The knuckle went back to her mouth, and she bit down on it. "I don't feel safe. I'm sorry. Could you check my room for me?"
He relaxed. "Of course. Go wait in mine."
She tensed again. "But . . . what if there's someone in yours?"
She was in there earlier, wasn't she? He didn't understand this reluctance, but Griffin nodded and put an arm out, gesturing for her to move in. "Come here, then. Stay by my side."
Immediately, Maylee trotted to him and moved under his arm. Her breast brushed against his side and her fingers went to the waistband of his sleep pants, as if she could somehow hold onto him in case he tried to escape her.
It should have been irritating. Griffin hated clinging, and he hated hovering. But . . . for some reason, having Maylee against his side, warm and soft and sweet, was rather nice.
Together, they checked out her room, opening up the wardrobes, going through every cabinet, the closet, and even checking under the bed. There was nothing. Griffin checked her front door again and tested the locks twice, then latched the chain. "From now on, you should keep this locked. You can just exit out of my room."
She nodded at him. "Thank you."
He glanced at the clock. "It's getting late. You should probably head to bed."
Her face went white again but she nodded, releasing him. Those soft fingers slid away from his waistband, and for a moment, Griffin felt regret, which was foolish. She was his assistant. A very temporary one.
"Thank you again," Maylee told him, her voice soft. She gave him another smile, but it didn't hold its normal brilliance. "I really do appreciate it."
"I know," he said, his tone a bit more abrupt than it should have been. She was fragile at the moment, damn it. There was no point in him biting her head off. He gave her a quick nod. "Get some sleep. We have a full schedule tomorrow."
"Of course," she murmured, and stepped away.
After a moment's hesitation, he gave her another nod and retreated to his room, shutting the door behind him. Griffin leaned against it for a moment, exhaling heavily.
Good God. He should have been upset about the fact that the paps were all over him on this trip, enough to warrant sneaking into his assistant's room to hash out a deal. He should have been furious that someone had breached their privacy.
But his brain kept focusing in on Maylee's bare legs under the hem of his shirt, the soft curve of her breast pressing against his side, those fingers brushing against his waist as she held onto his pants.
His c**k was hard as a rock. Griffin reached into his pants and adjusted himself, but it was no good. This wasn't going down anytime soon, not with Maylee's softness and near nudity in his mind. He kept flashing back to her running into his room, dripping with water, the towel barely containing her heaving br**sts-