Текст книги "Take Me for Granted"

Автор книги: K. A. Linde

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Chapter 8: Aribel

My hands were shaking as I dashed across the open quad. People were staring at me from all directions. I hated the spotlight. I was supposed to be invisible. I was supposed to get high marks in all my classes, graduate at the top of my class, and then start my career as a lab researcher. My parents expected me to eventually meet the right kind of guy—someone confident and ambitious, a Princeton alum preferably. These things were important to me. I couldn’t forget that the next time I was trapped in Grant McDermott’s heated gaze. Better yet, he just needed to leave me alone.

When I made it to the chemistry building, I plopped down into the first available seat in the lecture hall, and I placed my hands flat on the desk to keep them steady. What is wrong with me? I’d never acted like this before.

Cheyenne’s words rang in my ears. Grant McDermott does not ask people out.

That had to be an exaggeration, right? Because he had just asked me out again.

“Aribel,” Kristin said in welcome. With a big smile, she took the seat next to me. “I just saw you with Grant McDermott on the quad!”

“Oh,” I said softly. “How do you know Grant?”

“ContraBand, duh! Like, everyone knows who Grant is. If you don’t follow the band, how do you know Grant McDermott?” she asked, her brown eyes wide.

I debated if I should just tell her that I didn’t know Grant, but she would probably want more details if I gave her that kind of answer. “My friends dragged me to the band’s show last night after Benjamin broke up with me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was wondering what that was all about with Grant since I knew you were taken. That sucks so bad,” Kristin said.

I hated sympathy, and I hated false sympathy even more. Kristin and I coincided in the same group of mutual friends, but that didn’t mean she knew me well enough to be this sorry about my breakup.

“It’s for the better. It’s not a big deal.”

“I still can’t believe you were yelling like that on the quad,” Kristin said.

Had we been yelling? “He was bothering me.”

“He’s gorgeous. He can bother me all he wants.”

“I’d prefer that,” I said dismissively.

“So…you have no interest in him at all?”

“Did I look like I did when I walked away?” I asked. I was getting irritated again. Is everyone going to be in my business about this?

“You guys looked like you were going to kiss.”

“Well, we didn’t.”

“Okay, jeez, I was just asking,” she said, pulling up her laptop.

At that moment, the professor walked up to the front of the lecture hall and clapped his hands. “All right, class, let’s get started.”

I tried to push aside the events that had transpired. I’d gotten rid of Grant McDermott. That was all that mattered. People would forget about our encounter on the quad. Everything would go back to normal.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my chemistry assignment. I passed it over to Kristin for the TA to collect.

“Hey, darlin’,” I heard as I ducked my head under the table.

My head snapped back up and smacked into the desk. “Shit,” I cried, rubbing the back of my head. I saw Grant’s standing in the aisle and nearly groaned. “What are you doing here?”

Grant smiled back at me broadly with his eyes wide and innocent. I knew that he was anything but innocent. His eyes averted to Kristin sitting next to me. Her mouth was hanging open.

“Babe, you mind relocating? I’d like your seat,” he said, laying on the Southern charm thick.

“Um…sure,” Kristin said breathlessly. She picked up her laptop and started shuffling her papers together.

“Is there a problem back there?” the professor asked.

“Sir, we’re just getting our seats situated, sir,” Grant spoke up confidently.

“Well, get situated quickly. I have a class to teach.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kristin stared back at me in disbelief before scurrying to a seat across the aisle. I didn’t even know what to say as Grant slid effortlessly into the vacated chair. He slunk back and tossed his arm across the back of my seat. Some of his dark hair fell forward across his forehead, and he wore his sexy smirk like a god.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed as the professor started teaching.

“You told me to enroll at Princeton. I’m not bad at chemistry, but I thought I’d sharpen up.”

“Grant, seriously, this isn’t a game.”

“No, princess, it’s not. Now, shh…you’re interfering with my learning experience.”

“Interfering?” I managed to gasp out.

“Shh…” he said, pressing his finger to his lips and looking at me with his peripheral vision.

I snapped my mouth shut and tried to focus on the class, but my mind wasn’t in it. I was too busy trying to figure out Grant’s motive. I wouldn’t suddenly go on a date with him because he stalked me to my chemistry class.

Partway through the lecture, Grant’s hand slid from my chair to my side and landed on my thigh. I swatted at him, and he moved his hand away, but then he replaced it a minute later.

“Ever heard of sexual harassment?” I growled at him.

“Nope.”

“You should look into it,” I said, pushing his hand away again.

He turned to face me again, and his gaze felt hot on my face. I tried to focus on the professor.

“Go out with me.”

“No,” I groaned. “Find someone else, and leave me alone.”

“I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

“Tough shit! You don’t always get what you want.”

“Fine. Just come to my show in the city this weekend.”

“If I won’t see you here, why would I drive to New York City to see you?” I demanded.

“Because it’s the city that never sleeps, and neither will you.”

“Oh my God.” Where the hell did he come up with this stuff?

“Just go out with me. Anywhere. Dinner, the city, coffee. I’ll fucking sit out on the quad with you, and we can let people stare at us again. Just give me a chance.”

“Why?”

What I wanted to ask—but I was actually holding back for the first time in my life—was, Why me? I wasn’t some slutty sexpot. Even if we went out, I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. I understood that I had said no and so that had made me appealing to him in some way, but it wasn’t enough to justify all of this.

“Because I know what I want.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know I want you.”

“And that’s enough?” I asked desperately.

“For me.”

We were staring at each other so intently that I hadn’t even noticed the professor had walked up the aisle to stand in front of my desk.

“Since you two seem unable to contain your conversation, perhaps you should continue it outside.”

My mouth fell open. “I’m so sorry. We’ll be quiet.”

“Sir, it was my fault,” Grant said, taking the fall.

That surprised me a bit.

“I don’t care whose fault it is. I expect you to pack up your things and leave. Return when you will not disturb the class,” he said before turning and walking back to the front of the room.

I grabbed my things and rushed out of the classroom in shame. I had been kicked out of class. I couldn’t believe it. By the time I exited the room, I was fuming.

Grant followed behind me a minute later. “Aribel, I’m really sorry.”

“You got me kicked out of class!” I yelled at him.

“I know. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t think—”

“That’s right! You didn’t think. You have no idea what this means to me or how this could affect me. All you care about is your stupid game. Newsflash, Grant—I’m not going to sleep with you!” I screamed in his face. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours, and you’re already messing up my life. So, do me a favor, and just get out of it!”

Chapter 9: Grant

Thirteen years.

It had been thirteen years since I last pushed too hard for what I wanted…since the last time I had failed. All of that came crashing down around me as I stood there and let Aribel lay into me like I was no better than the scum on the bottom of her shoe.

In all honesty, I probably wasn’t, not compared to someone like her. She seemed like a package deal—smart, really fucking smart, hot, and feisty. Why the hell would she want to go out with a guy like me anyway?

And that should have made me back the fuck off. It should have made me want to walk dick-first into the next easy pussy I stumbled across. But it didn’t. As she rambled on about my utter douchiness, all I could think about was how I could fix this. So, I let her walk away. I was already going to be late for rehearsal, and if I were late one more time, Miller would have my ass.

Arriving just on time, I hopped out of my lifted dark blue F-150 and strolled into the garage. When I’d first bought the place, I’d renovated the garage, so we would have a place to rehearse. I’d only left enough space for my sleek red Ducati.

“Bro, where the fuck have you been all morning?” Vin asked.

“With your mother.”

“Fuck off!” Vin yelled back at me.

I sauntered over to my baby and picked her up from her stand. She was a cherry red Gibson SG that I loved more than anything else on the planet. She had gotten me through the rough times, and every day that went by when I wasn’t strumming her to life made me feel like I was dying.

“Seriously though, Grant,” Miller started his best reprimand, “can’t you ever manage to be on time? You’d think a label scout coming to our show tomorrow night would get you to be more serious about rehearsals.”

“Miller, chill the fuck out. I’m serious about rehearsals.”

“Then, can we fucking get started?” McAvoy leaned back against the wall, balancing precariously on two legs of his stool. He flipped a drumstick between his fingers.

“Yeah. Are we playing ‘Hemorrhage’?” I asked.

McAvoy started the beat to our lead song.

The words were spilling out of my mouth. My hands were flying across my baby as I coaxed the chords and rhythms out of her. My body was super heated from the bright lights on the stage, and sweat collected on my brow and the back of my plain black V-cut T-shirt. My dog tags hung loose around my neck, moving in time with me.

McAvoy was shirtless and fully tatted with his hair swinging as he slammed the sticks down on the drums in front of him. Miller’s bass beats were thumping into my body. He looked completely unfazed in his crisp jeans and polo as the heat intensified through the set. Vin’s shirt was a size too small, and somehow he was flexing as he played his shiny black guitar next to me.

We were killing it tonight. Most nights, I’d felt like we were in sync, but nothing could compare to tonight. It was a Saturday night in September, and the dive bar in New York City where Miller had gotten us a show already looked like they were breaking the fire code with how many swaying, drunken bodies were crammed into the small space.

A blonde chick was standing in the front row in the lowest cut shirt I’d ever seen. Her tits were nearly bouncing out, and I could almost see her nipples as she danced and jumped to our music. She hadn’t looked away from me for one second the entire set, and I was sure we’d be fucking in the restroom before I even knew her name.

As I finished off our last song, the light panned across the room, and the crowd cheered to a deafening volume. Performing was an adrenaline rush unlike anything else. I felt perfectly in control and in my element.

“We’re ContraBand. Thanks for coming out,” I called out to the crowd before swinging my guitar onto my back and exiting the stage.

The venue actually had a real backstage, unlike The Ivy League, and the other bands were lounging on couches and chatting with fans. McAvoy immediately made friends with the dudes who had gone on first, and Vin was already fondling a chick near the stage door.

Miller shrugged. “Feels weird, not being bombarded.”

“We would be if we took one step out that door.” I pulled a joint from my pocket and lit it up. I didn’t typically smoke in public, but who the hell is watching now?

“You going for the blonde in the front row?” Miller asked intuitively.

The guy was sharp. He always picked up on the moods of the guys, and he was able to keep us cohesive.

“We’ll see.”

About ten minutes later, the next band started their set, and a wave of girls ran backstage. A crowd was forming for us, and Blondie was at the lead.

“Hey, sexy,” she said, walking right up to me and running her hand down my dog tags.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“I loved your show.” She stuck her chest out, and her tits pressed against me, emphasizing how much she would enjoy an aftershow.

“Thanks, babe. This your first ContraBand show?”

“Mmhmm…I sure hope it’s not my last.”

I smiled down at her in a way that I’d heard melted panties and nodded my head toward the back room. She arched an eyebrow and winked. All the confirmation I needed.

“You made it, Cheyenne,” Vin called out next to me.

My head snapped to the side, my conversation with Blondie completely forgotten. Cheyenne? As in, Aribel’s roommate? Is she here? She might have been pissed with me, but maybe her friends had dragged her along. It was wishful thinking maybe, but I had to know.

“Will you just give me a minute?”

She pouted with her gloss-coated full lips. For a second, I envisioned the mess that would make on my dick, and I shuddered. Blondie had a nice rack, but she needed to take that shit off.

“Come on, baby,” Blondie purred.

“Just one minute.” I held up a finger, pulled myself from her grasp, and walked over to where Vin was standing with a tall, curly-haired ginger.

I looked around, but I didn’t see a short blonde in a cardigan. Maybe she was hidden behind the mass of people who had just come backstage. “Cheyenne,” I said in greeting.

“Oh, Grant, hey,” she said, smiling warily at me.

Not the reaction I was used to. I wondered if Aribel had told her what had happened or if gossip had traveled to her.

“Bro!” Vin said, trying to nudge me out.

He still didn’t realize that I had no interest in the girl in front of me.

“Hey, is Aribel with you tonight?”

“Aribel? Hmm…” Cheyenne glanced back at the two girls standing behind her.

One of them, a nondescript brunette, shook her head, and her eyes bulged slightly. All right, so they are going to play it like this.

“She’s not with us,” the other girl with a blonde pixie cut said so softly.

I barely caught what she had said.

“Oh, she didn’t show?” I couldn’t hide my disappointment. How the hell am I going to get to this girl?

“We tried to get her to come, Grant,” Cheyenne spoke up.

The brunette chick smacked her.

“What, Shelby? We did! Nothing wrong in telling him.”

“She’s not interested in him,” Shelby whispered.

“She’s an idiot for not being—”

“Ladies, it’s fine,” I said, shutting them up.

I didn’t want them to keep bickering, and if they kept talking about her, it was going to bring me down from the high I was on from the show. I liked to hold on to my adrenaline rush for as long as I could.

Blondie was making her way over to me, and she had a scowl on her face that did nothing for her. After just talking about Aribel, the thought of fucking Blondie in the restroom stall didn’t sound that appealing. Who the fuck am I?

“Guys,” Miller said. He had a huge smile plastered on his face. “The scout wants to talk to us!”

“What? Really?” Vin asked.

“Scout?” Cheyenne asked curiously.

“A label scout,” Vin told her. “We’re gonna get fucking signed. We’re gonna be fucking famous!”

“Vin, keep it down,” Miller said, punching him on the arm.

“Sorry, girls,” Vin said. He leaned forward and planted a bold kiss on Cheyenne’s lips. “Next time you see me, I’ll have graduated to rock god.”

Cheyenne laughed and shook her head. Yeah, she wants him.

I nodded at the girls and didn’t even glance at Blondie before turning and following my brothers to where we would meet with the label scout. Anticipation buzzed through every inch of my body, and by the time we made it to a private back room, I was practically bouncing from the shot of adrenaline. This was my future right here, my boys’ future. Our moment for fame was dangling before us on a string, and all we had to do was walk into this room and take it.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” a guy in a black suit said.

With greasy short hair, a fake smile, and beady, observant eyes, he looked exactly how I’d pictured label scouts.

“Please, sit. You want beers or water or something?”

We all shook our heads.

McAvoy was last into the room. He shut the door and took a seat.

“Great. We’re all here. I’m Frank Boseley with BankHead Records. I’m glad that I was able to come out and hear you guys live. Look, I’ll just cut to the chase. I’m not sure you’re exactly what our label is looking for right now.”

My stomach plummeted. Shit! The boys deflated around me. I knew that this was just the first of many rejections we would likely see in this industry, but we had killed it tonight. If a label didn’t want us off of that performance, when would they want us?

“Thanks for inviting me out. I wish you luck in your future.”

Miller, always the best of us, walked up and shook Frank’s hand. Miller handled the business side of the band, so he’d had the most contact with Frank. It must have hit him the hardest even though it was clear we all felt like someone had punched us in the gut.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” Miller said and then he turned back to us. “Come on, guys.”

I stood in dismay and started to leave with my friends. I couldn’t believe what had just gone down. My high was diminishing quickly, and I was going to need a drink and at least a blow job to get over this.

“Grant,” Frank called, stopping me in my tracks. “My man, do you mind staying after for a minute?”

What the fuck did he want? Miller, McAvoy, and Vin looked like they wanted to know the same damn thing. I was too curious not to stay though even if the man gave me the creeps.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Just close that door for a minute.”

I nodded at the guys reassuringly before shutting the door. “What’s up?”

Frank crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “I know I said that the label isn’t interested in ContraBand, Grant, but that’s only partially true.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“They’re not interested in ContraBand. They’re interested in you.”

Oh. Motherfucker thought I was a sellout?

“The reason I’m here today is because of you. We’re looking for a front man. Solo acts are selling right now, Grant, and I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime to sign with BankHead Records.”

“What about the other guys?”

“Fuck the other guys. You don’t need them. You carry that band. You’re the it factor, and you’re the person fans come to watch. The screaming crowd was for you, my man. People were cramming into this bar for you. You’re filling a dive bar, and we’ll fill arenas together.”

I laughed and scratched the back of my head. Arenas. Shit.

“So, what do you say, Grant? You with us?”

“What do I say?” I said. I looked straight into that fucker’s beady eyes and told him exactly what I thought, “No. I’m going to have to say no.”

“No?” he asked in shock. “You have no idea what you’re missing out on.”

“You’re a fucking piece of shit if you think I’ll ditch my brothers for you. I’m not a sellout. I’m not a fucking dick you can jack off with the delusional promise of sold-out arenas. If I’m fucking selling out arenas, then it’s happening with my boys behind me. Without them, this business isn’t worth the headache of dealing with pieces of shit like yourself.”

I stormed out of that room like someone had lit a fire under my ass. I pushed past the guys and ignored their questions. They could see the murderous look on my face, but I didn’t have it in me to tell them the audacity that prick had.

Blondie was waiting for me as well, but I wasn’t in the mood for that bullshit tonight. I’d barely been in the mood for it before Frank Boseley had fucked up my entire night.

Now, I was only in the mood for one thing.

“Where do you live?” I asked Cheyenne as soon as I reached her.

Chapter 10: Aribel

I was not sulking just because my roommates had all gone to the ContraBand show in the city and left me behind. I hadn’t wanted to go, and I certainly hadn’t wanted to see Grant McDermott.

But I couldn’t concentrate on my homework, and for the first time in forever, I felt a bit silly for doing homework on a Saturday night. My shoulders ached from hunching over my desk all day. I rolled them back a few times and closed my book. I might as well try to get some sleep.

As I was about to change into something more comfortable, a knock on the door stopped me short. Who the hell is at my door? I hoped it wasn’t my drug dealer neighbors. The last time they had stopped by, they had asked if they could stash their weed in our house until the cops passed through, and then they’d had the nerve to be angry when I’d refused.

I looked through the peephole in my door to see who it was, and my eyes widened in shock. Grant McDermott was standing on my front porch. I flattened myself against the door and took a few heaving breaths. I didn’t care that I had been thinking about him all night—or all day, for that matter. I couldn’t answer the door.

“Aribel!” Grant called, banging on the door again. “I know you’re in there. Cheyenne said you would be home.”

Cheyenne! That traitor!

“Aribel! Are you there?”

I sighed heavily. Well, what should I do now? He looked like he might stand out there all night. Not that it would really bother me, but I did want to get some sleep tonight. Just as he started attacking my door again, I pulled it open with a scowl.

I smoothed my blonde hair back and then tried to stop fidgeting. “What do you want, Grant?”

“Can I come in?”

“To my house?” I asked incredulously.

“Where the fuck else would I come, babe?” He arched an eyebrow, and the first hint of a smirk crossed his face.

Is everything sexual with him?

Yes.

“No, you can’t come in. Aren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“You’re not in New York,” he said plainly.

“How observant. Didn’t you have a show?”

I was stalling, and he could tell. He took a step toward me. I stood my ground, which took real effort because of his nearness.

“I finished my show,” he growled. “Now, can I come in?”

Jesus, what is up with him? He seemed even more…primal than normal.

“I already told you no.”

“I drove all the way from the city to see you. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Not sure what you want it to count for. I thought I made myself perfectly clear after you got me kicked out of my class yesterday.”

“So, you won’t let me in then?” He hovered mere inches away from me.

“I’m not sure how many more times I have to tell you that you can’t come inside,” I said irritably.

A smile crossed his face, the same one that had done me in the last time we’d been together. I could feel the tension crackling between us, like a struck match or a zap of static.

“Fine,” he said.

Then, he grabbed me around the waist, yanked me outside, and dropped his mouth down onto mine hungrily. I lost myself in his lips. His hands ducked under my sweater, and his fingers dug into my soft flesh beneath. And without even realizing it, I was grasping his T-shirt for dear life and feeling the cold metal of his dog tags in my hands.

Holy shit! I’d never been kissed like this before. My whole body was on fire, and his lips were just fueling the flame. Burning desire snaked through me, starting in my fingertips, scorching through my chest, and settling in my core.

Grant walked me backward into my apartment and slammed the door shut. My back hit the wall, but our lips never broke apart. His hands ventured up my shirt, and I stopped breathing as he trailed his fingers lightly along my ribs. He skimmed the underside of my breast, and a groan escaped my lips. I squirmed against him, wanting what he was offering and silently freaking the fuck out.

“Grant,” I groaned.

His mouth left mine, and he started kissing down my neck. My chest rose and fell heavily.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” I repeated mockingly.

He pulled back and stared down into my eyes. “Princess, Aribel, Ari, whatever you want me to call you.”

Bending slightly, he seized the backs of my thighs and hoisted them around his waist. I gasped out and instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” I cried in shock.

He started walking toward the living room without answering me.

“Grant, put me down!”

Once we were standing over the couch, he lowered me onto it and covered my body with his.

Oh my God, he is rock solid. I could feel every inch of him as he lay there on top of me. He wasn’t overly built, but he was all lean muscle, and the way his body was moving against mine was making me forget sense.

His lips found mine again, and then I felt his erection slide up against the thin material of my yoga pants. My mind immediately started firing on all cylinders again, and I knew exactly what he’d wanted when he laid me down on the couch.

“Grant, stop!” I said, pushing at his chest.

Holy shit! How had I let myself get this carried away? I never got carried away. His kisses had done things to me that I didn’t understand. I’d completely lost myself…and I’d liked it. But as much as I’d liked it, I couldn’t let it continue.

My breathing was ragged as I tried to get myself under control. His body still covered mine, and I was sure he knew exactly what he had done to me.

He groaned and pulled back to stare at me with his pleading brown eyes. His body was still aligned with mine, and when I shifted, he gripped my hip tighter in his hand.

“Oh, come on. You want me.”

I shook my head and swallowed. I didn’t want this even if I had gotten lost in his lips.

“You seriously want me to stop after you kissed me like that?”

At least I knew it had affected him, too. Actually, as I shifted out from under him to sit up, that became very clear. “I didn’t kiss you like anything.”

“Bullshit!”

“Well, are you happy? You got what you wanted.”

“I got a tenth of what I wanted, princess.”

“A tenth is all you’re going to get. Now, you should probably go,” I told him.

“Go?” His eyebrows shot up. “You’re kicking me out after I just got permission to enter?”

“I didn’t give you permission.”

His hand ran down my jawline. “How many other people do you kiss like that when they ask to come inside?”

I swatted his hand away. “What are you really doing here, Grant? Besides the other nine-tenths that you want.”

“I thought you would be at the show.”

“I bet plenty of other girls were at the show, offering a lot more, that you didn’t have to drive home to see.”

“Would you prefer I was with them?” he asked.

He was waiting for me to contradict him, but that smile on his face held my tongue.

“You answer my questions with questions a lot.”

Grant shrugged and glanced away. “Do you really want to know? I haven’t even told the guys yet.”

I hadn’t expected him to actually answer when I asked him the question, but he wasn’t advancing on me at this point, so that was a positive.

I might as well keep him talking. “Sure.”

“We had a scout for a label come to the show tonight.”

“That’s good, right?” I asked uncertainly.

He didn’t look like it had been a good thing.

He scoffed. “It should have been. Fucking prick.”

I fiddled with my fingernails and tucked my legs up underneath me. “Did the scout not like your band?”

“He liked me,” he said plainly.

He was fuming and trying desperately not to show it. I wondered how often he talked to people about the shit in his life because he seemed incredibly uncomfortable with it. I couldn’t blame him though. It wasn’t like I was particularly forthright about my own life.

“I’m not following.”

He jumped out of his seat and stomped angrily across the room. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, and the muscles in his arms bulged. I noticed a tattoo peeking out of his shirt on his bicep, but I couldn’t really see what it was.

“They wanted me but not the band. They offered to sign me if I left ContraBand.”

It sounded like a pretty shitty deal if he was that invested in the band, but maybe he just wanted to be famous. Looking at his scowling face, I couldn’t see that being the case.

“I’m guessing you didn’t do it?”

“Do I look like a fucking sellout to you?”

I glared at him. “Don’t yell at me! I was just asking. You’re the one telling me about your shitty night. I don’t have to listen!”

“Fine. I didn’t mean to blow up. I’m just…I’m not a fucking sellout.”

“I never said you were. I just thought you might want this as a career, and someone offered it to you, so it makes sense that you might have taken it. I guess I was wrong.” I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth.

I had asked him one simple question, and he didn’t have to be such an ass about it.

“As long as I have my guitar, I’m fucking solid.” He mirrored me and crossed his arms. “The band isn’t just a band. Those guys are my brothers. It would be like getting rid of family, and I’m not fucking doing that.”

That was probably the nicest thing I’d ever heard come out of Grant’s mouth, and we’d managed to have a semblance of a conversation without him making some dick sexual reference.

“Then, it sounds like you made the right choice. Why are you so pissed off about it?”

He shrugged and turned.

I stared at his profile. His jaw was strong and defined with stubble growing in. His lips were full, and his nose was angular. I could make out his high cheekbones and the intensity of his gaze.

“Grant?” I prompted.

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Are you just going to stand there all night and try to figure it out?”

“I’d rather get back to my nine-tenths, princess,” he said, walking back over to me and sitting down.

I stood hastily. “I don’t think so, Prince Charming.”

Grant laughed at the nickname and leaned back casually on the couch. “Charming, huh?”

“Or maybe you’re actually a frog.”

“Does that mean I get to kiss you again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You know, I think what irritates me is that I can’t release my frustration. Are you sure you can’t help with that?”

I rolled my eyes. Nice try. “Not a chance. You should probably go actually, so I can go to sleep.”

“Want some company?” He stood and his fingertips circled my waist, drawing me toward him.

How did he do that so easily?

“Um…no company.”

Seeing that I wasn’t going to change my mind, he grumbled something under his breath. “All right.”

He trudged across the room, and I followed him.

He reached for the door. “So, Ari, can I see you again?”

I smiled despite myself. He’d used my name. Even if it was a shortened version of it, it was my name. Improvement.