Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,150

when the time was right. In the meantime . . .”

“I get it.” I rub the soft heather-colored comforter pulled around us. “It wasn’t cheating, but it still felt like a betrayal.”

I hastily glance up at him, spreading my fingers over the hand resting on me.

“I know that isn’t fair, but it’s how I felt.”

“You felt that way because even though we weren’t together,” he says, caressing my collarbone. “We were supposed to be. Inside you knew us being apart wasn’t right. Me with them wasn’t right, and you with anybody other than me sure as hell wasn’t right.”

His chuckle loosens some of my tightly wound places. He settles his eyes, still slightly sleep-glazed and growing more solemn, on me.

“I don’t want to rehash everything.” He cups the side of my face. “We’ve wasted too much time. I want us moving forward from now on.”

“Starting today.” He drops a quick kiss on my lips. “I’ve got a surprise.”

“A surprise?” I trail fingers over the carved strength of his shoulders and down the hard biceps.

He shifts until he’s over me, notching his hips between my thighs. With both of us naked, we’re one deep breath away from penetration. His lips wander down my neck and to my breast. He takes his time with each nipple. The suction of his mouth, thorough and voracious, stirs desire low in my belly.

“We are not having sex.” I moan, wetness pooling between my legs and my hips circling beneath him, seeking friction. “I can barely walk.”

He releases my breast with a pop, his smile triumphant. “What’d I tell you?”

“Like your other head isn’t big enough, you had to go and have a big dick.” Our laughter shakes us under the covers.

“If you’re not giving up that ass,” he says, the smile lingering. “Get dressed so we can go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Go where? Late for what?”

“Pretty sure I said surprise, and last time I checked, you don’t know about those before they happen.”

The thought of leaving the loft freaks me out a little for more reasons than one, but I’ll start with one.

“Grip, as far as the world is concerned,” I say carefully. “Qwest is still #GripzQueen. I don’t want to embarrass her, or for people to assume we’ve done something wrong.”

“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 us 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