Grip Trilogy Box Set

She gasps her shock but laughs when she realizes I’m playing with her.

“I think I . . . no, that wouldn’t . . .” Her cheeks burn pink. “I mean, I won’t.”

I’m halfway through spinning the first set when I spot Bristol at one of the bars. Damn, she looks good. The dress shouldn’t look good. It has no shape. It just hangs off one shoulder, but every time she moves, it molds to the curves and lines of her body beneath the blue silk. The hem doesn’t even hit mid-thigh, and her long, toned legs go on forever, the high heels emphasizing the cut of her calves. My mind goes blank of every image except those legs wrapped around me as I pound into her. I don’t need this hard-on within fucking distance of Bristol.

The blonde beside her makes me set aside my reservations about going over. If it weren’t for her, me and my hard dick would run in the opposite direction.

“If it isn’t my favorite rock star,” I say from behind Jimmi. She turns, squealing and hurling herself into my arms.

“I won’t tell Rhyson I’m your fave if you don’t.” She lets out that rich, husky laugh that hints at her top-charting singing voice. “How the hell are you, Grip? I mean, besides having the number one album!”

“I definitely can’t complain.” I press a kiss into her soft blonde hair, which is flying all over the place. “Missed you, girl.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the release celebration.” A grimace crosses Jimmi’s pretty face. “I think I was in London that night. Great show, but I would rather have been here.”

She links her arm through mine, and we lean against the bar. I don’t speak to Bristol, who’s sitting on a barstool with her legs crossed, and she doesn’t speak to me. Jimmi bounces a glance between the two of us but doesn’t comment on how tight the air is around us. Jimmi knows the score. She knows I’ve always had it bad for Bristol.

“Can you even believe this?” Jimmi’s blue eyes soften, losing some of their usual cynicism. “When we were at the School of the Arts painting backdrops for musicals and dreaming of making it big, we had no idea. You, me, Rhyson, Luke. It’s crazy.”

“Right.” I shake my head. “I still wake up some mornings thinking I’m supposed to be sweeping studio floors and rent’s past due.”

“Same here!” Jimmi’s laugh mixes with the heavy beat of the Future song playing in the club. “I still have my name badge from Mick’s.”

“I would have starved those first few years without all the free food you hooked me up with from that place.”

“Like your mom would ever let you starve.” Jimmi turns to Bris- tol, who has been considering the stage intently ever since I walked over. “That’s where we first met, Bris.”

“Huh?” Bristol turns slightly glazed eyes to Jimmi. “Sorry, what?”

“Bris, what planet are you on tonight?” Jimmi bumps Bristol’s shoulder with hers. “Grip and I were just talking about the good old days. Remember how we met at Mick’s that first day you came for spring break? Grip brought you to lunch.”

“You had on a bikini top and heels and cut-offs.” Bristol scrunches her nose, her throaty laugh rich with affection. “You were such a skank.”

“Yeah, well you were an uptight asshole prude.” Jimmi leans into Bristol, her grin wide. “Who thought she was better than everyone else.”

“I totally was.” Bristol’s mouth opens in a silent laugh. “I totally did.”

“And Grip kept looking at you like he’d discovered chocolate.” Jimmi bends at the waist, laughter shaking her shoulders.

The humor drains from Bristol’s face. The club is so dark I almost miss the anger, the residue of hurt in Bristol’s eyes from our argument.

“No, he didn’t,” Bristol murmurs into her vodka martini.

Yeah, I actually did.

Jimmi grabs Bristol’s drink and gulps down most of it.

“Hmmm. That’s good. I shoulda been drinking that.” She licks her lips and wiggles the nearly empty glass before handing it back to Bristol. “Be a doll and get me one.”

Bristol leans back, catches the bartender’s eye, points to her glass, and then holds up two fingers.

“I was looking for you earlier, Bris,” I say.

“Why?” Over the rim of her martini glass she spears me like the toothpick through the olive in her drink.

“You’re just usually early, and I didn’t see you.”

“Didn’t Sarah take care of you?” She cocks one brow. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”