Grip Trilogy Box Set

“Alone?” the guide asks with a frown.

“I was gonna take her with me.” I’m knock-me-over-with-a- feather shocked when Grip tips his head at me. Since he’s barely acknowledged me in days. “You down to ride, Bristol?”

Maybe it’s the desert heat suddenly beading sweat on my neck, sand in my throat so I can’t breathe easily. Maybe I didn’t eat enough at lunch, and I’m lightheaded. More likely, it’s Grip’s gorgeous eyes waiting on me, resting on me when he’s barely looked at me in what feels like forever.

“Um, well . . . I guess so.” I search his face for some clue in this puzzle.

“Good.” He nods and turns to the guide. “There’s a set path, right?”

“Yes, but . . .” The poor little man still isn’t sure, but sighs and relents. His supervisor probably told him to give the rich Americans whatever they want. Being guests of the prince probably doesn’t hurt our case. “I’ll get papers.”

“And you’ll take them back?” Grip points to Meryl and Paul. “Yes, of course.”

I glance at Meryl because I feel her glancing at me.

“So I guess I’ll see you guys back at the hotel,” I direct my comment to Meryl and her curious eyes. “The party is at eight o’clock.”

“I’m not sure how to dress for a royal Sweet Sixteen Party,” Meryl says, splitting her attention between me and Grip, who’s signing paperwork.

“I’d skip it if I could. I’m so ready to go home tomorrow.”

“I guess I’ll have everything I need for the story,” Meryl says. “I think it’s going to be awesome, especially with Grip hitting number one, and this gorgeous setting for the cover.”

“Yep.” I listen to Meryl with half an ear as Grip walks over. “Thanks for everything, Meryl.”

Grip’s slow smile makes a little bit of color bloom on her cheeks. I, unlike him, am not oblivious to her crush. “I can’t wait to see how it turns out. See you at the party tonight.”

Without waiting for her response he returns to the guide who has the helmets for him.

“Come on, Bris,” he yells, swinging his leg over the ATV.

“See you tonight,” I tell Meryl hastily as I go to join him.

The guide gives us some quick instructions. Grip nods, but it’s obvious he’s only half-listening. He and Rhyson love these things. The prospect of riding one on the Red Dunes has him excited and impatient to get on with it.

I climb on the back, not sure about this. Not sure why he asked or why I’m going. I slip my arms around his warm, hard body. My fingers brush against ladders of muscle peekabooing through the rips in his shirt. I jerk my fingers back, unprepared for the jolt the intimate touch sends through me.

“Hold on,” Grip says, his voice a little muffled by the helmet. “Or fall off. Those are your options.”

Riding wrapped around that hot, hard body, my thighs bracketing the power of his? The center of my body fitted to the curve of his ass? And the primal growl of this desert beast carrying us over the sand, vibrating beneath me for the duration of the ride? As horny as I am, I’ll come before the ride is over. Not a good look. Using the electric boyfriend in my suitcase would be less mortifying.

“Another option would be not to ride at all.” I scoot back and lift my leg to get off.

“Too late.”

Before I can get any further, Grip revs the engine and takes off.

I’m forced to hold onto him tightly or get dragged by one leg. “Motherfucker,” I mutter through my helmet.

“What was that?” Grip shouts over the engine.

“I said you could have warned me,” I scream back.

I’ve seen Rhyson and Grip ride at the beach, but this is so far beyond that. The dunes climb so high and drop so low, making my stomach loop with each crest and valley. No matter how much I try to put some distance between our bodies, the motion of the vehicle, the speed of our ride pulls me inexorably into him. My breasts flatten against the wide, solid expanse of his back and shoulders. His muscles shift and flex beneath my arms with every rise, fall, twist and turn. Involuntarily, my limbs stiffen as I fight the pull toward his body, not just gravitational, but the sensual tug he always exercises on my senses.

“Relax, Bristol,” Grip shouts over his shoulder. “Or you’ll take us both down.”

I give in, allowing the force and speed to collide our bodies. My legs mold to him, my nipples pebble at his back. I know I’m we