Grip Trilogy Box Set

“I didn’t force you to sleep with her.”

“You getting drunk,” he continues as if I didn’t correct him, “and riding off into the night with that asshole.”

“Riding off into the night?” I scoff. “Glad we’re not resorting to the dramatic.”

“Sleeping with him when you weren’t even lucid enough to remember.” He pauses, giving me space to object, but I don’t have an objection. He can’t be anymore disappointed in me than I am in myself for that. My anger deflates as quickly as it rose, and so does his. He steps close and brushes a knuckle over my cheek before cupping my face.

“Bris, what’s up with all the drinking lately?” His voice is a balm over the self-inflicted wounds of my own actions. “I mean, we’ve always joked that you can outdrink us all, that nobody holds their liquor like you, but it was never like this. Should I be worried?”

A heavy laugh tumbles out of my mouth. I lean into his warm palm and close my eyes against the concern on his face.

“I’m not an alcoholic if that’s what you’re asking.” I step even closer to him, so close I can drop my head to his chest and mumble my words into the smooth skin. “Lately I just needed to be . . . numb.”

“Why?” When I don’t respond for a few seconds, he lifts my chin and searches my face. “Numb to what?”

I pull away to show him the truth in my eyes.

“You and Qwest. That night I sent you off on a date with her, I was miserable. And I knew I did it to myself. Not just involving Parker or arranging the date with Qwest, but letting my fears rule me. Denying myself the one thing I really wanted.”

“And what was that?” His eyes rest intently on my face. He already knows the answer, but I know he needs to hear me say it. After all I’ve put him through, he deserves to hear it. “What do you want?”

“You,” I whisper.

There’s no gloating, no smugness in his expression.

“You’ve got me.” He presses his forehead to mine, angling my chin to kiss me with quick tenderness. “I just hate how we got here.”

“So do I.”

I place my hands flat to his chest, hesitating before going on. “If it’s any consolation, Parker and I were never actually dating. I’m pretty sure he leaked everything that night to Spotted. He thought the

media storm and all the coverage would somehow pressure me into giving in and making it real.”

“Giving in?” The muscle tenses beneath my palms. “What does he want?”

“He wants what he’s always wanted.” I shrug, frank when I meet his eyes. “He wants me. Ever since we were kids he said he would marry me. Our mothers started it, and he just latched on. He sees himself as the king of his family’s empire, and me as his . . .”

I stop short of the word so closely associated with Grip and Qwest.

“Queen?” The word trips, loaded with irony, off Grip’s tongue.

“He’s crazy.” I dig my fingers into my hair. “I keep telling him I won’t marry him, but he won’t take no for an answer.”

“Why did you let it go on for weeks?”

“He was in India almost the entire time, and the media had, for the most part, lost interest.” I force myself to tell him the truth; though, I know it will only anger him. “I knew you gave Qwest a chance because you thought Parker and I were serious. I’d just started pressing him to tell the media the truth.”

“When I think about you basically unconscious, of Parker taking advantage of you like that . . .”

He holds my hand, his gentle grip tightening around my fingers. He lifts his lashes to reveal the leashed violence in his eyes, and he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. It’s written there what he wants to do to Parker.

“Then don’t think about it.” I stretch up to kiss him, deliberately stroking my tongue deeply into his mouth, an exclusive, intimate exchange I don’t want to have with anyone else. “Think about us. Think about what we feel, what we’ve said to each other. Think about today.”

“Today he’s still calling you.” A bunched muscle interrupts the smooth, lightly scruffed line of his jaw. “You told him it isn’t happen- ing, but he’s still calling and texting.”

“I know. I’ll—”

“I want it to stop.”