Grip Trilogy Box Set

“We know we didn’t cheat.” Grip’s frown and the hard set of his lips indicate this is as important to him as it is to me.

“I know, but I pushed you guys together, and I feel bad that she’s gotten hurt in this process.”

“So do I.” Regret shades his eyes. “She cried when I broke it off. She thinks she’s in love with me, and I feel like an asshole.”

“So do I. And she is in love with you. It’s obvious.” I trace a thumb over the thick brows and chiseled bone structure that have fascinated me since the first time I saw them. “I know how much it hurts to love you and think someone else has you.”

“You were jealous?” He echoes my caress, his thumb tracing my features, his eyes searching mine, his fingers working through my hair spread on the pillow.

I nod, biting my lip.

“And scared that you would fall for her. I know that sounds stupid since I pushed you together, but the reality of you wanting someone else . . .”

My words die around the painful lump in my throat. “Bris, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

He kisses me deeply, long strokes of his tongue inciting the same insatiable desire we’ve indulged in over the last day and a half. When he finally releases my mouth, we face each other on the pillow, foreheads pressed together, exchanging short, heavy breaths.

“We’ll be careful,” he concedes. “But I want you to do this with me today.”

“But, Grip—”

“As far as the world’s concerned, you’re my manager, and it won’t be unusual for u

s to be seen together.”

“True.” I still hesitate.

“Should we coordinate a statement with Will? Formally notify the press that Qwest and I aren’t together anymore?”

“That feels . . . I don’t know. Slimy. Like we’re shoving her out the door.”

“So we what?” A frown knits above the frustration gathering in his eyes. “Just wait for someone to ask me or her if we’re together and then deny it? That’s too passive. I’m not waiting for that.”

He presses my hands over my head, his rough palms scaling the sensitive skin inside my arms and wrists. He dips his head to hover over my lips.

“I’m ready to be with you.”

He pulls my bottom lip between his, nipping the softness and then trailing kisses down my neck. He pauses when the intercom system buzzes. Someone wants in. They must know the code to have gotten all the way up the elevator.

“Probably Amir,” Grip mumbles, rolling out of bed, treating me to the glorious sight of a taut bronzed ass, the flare of muscled thighs, and the tempting breadth of smooth back and shoulders. Two columns of abdominal muscle stack above his navel and the fine trail of hair leads down to his long, semi-erect south pole. He slips on a pair of gray sleep pants flung over a bench at the foot of the bed.

“Shame to cover that.” I drag myself up, resting my shoulders against the headboard. "I was really enjoying the view."

He looks at me from under a dark line of brows, his sculpted lips tilting at one corner.

“I thought you didn’t wanna fuck.” He leans one hand on the bed for support and palms my throat with the other, gently tilting my chin. “Them’s fucking words.”

“I am a little sore.” I release the sheet tucked under my arms, the rush of cool air when it falls piquing my nipples. “But who needs to walk?”

The heat in his eyes scorches my bare shoulders and breasts. He pulls one knee onto the bed and captures my nipple between his lips, his tongue like fire licking around me. His thumb teases the other nipple tight.

“Grip.” His name rushes from my mouth. My head falls back, and my fingers find his neck, pressing his teeth and lips harder into my flesh. “Please.”

“Shit,” Grip mutters against the underside of my breast. He pulls me down flat to the bed, rips the sheet back and pushes my legs open, his eyes locked on my center.

He presses my knees up and drops to his elbows, his long legs stretched behind him on the bed. I’m writhing at the first long swipe of his tongue. He’s lapping at me. There’s a fire hidden in my slit, and every nip of his teeth and tug of his lips fans a desire in me so strong it clenches my belly. To want him this badly and not have him buried inside me hurts. Even knowing Amir could be on his way in, I clutch Grip’s head. I roll my hips into him, a hungry undulation. Amir could walk in right now and I’m not sure I could stop. In an instant, in a matter of a few touches and kisses, I’m starved for Grip like the first time, like I’ve never had him before.

The buzzer comes again, insistent and extended.