Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,155

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.”

I blink a few times, waiting for the ferocity to clear from his eyes, but it only intensifies the longer I stay silent.

“Okayyyyy. I’ll check the messages, and I’ll handle it.”

“If you don’t handle him, I will,” he warns.

Oh, the fuck no. That’s the last thing I need. “That isn’t a good idea. He’s . . .”

I focus on our bare feet just inches apart, our toes pointing to each other.

“He’s a very powerful man, Grip, and I don’t want you hurt.”

There’s an ominous quiet before the storm I should have known my comment would stir.

“You think I’m scared of that son of a bitch?” A dark cloud breaks on his face, his voice a boom of thunder. “You think you have to protect me from him? Is that what you’re saying?”

“You don’t know him. He—”

“You get one shot.” He clips the words, anger still brimming in his eyes. “Listen to the messages. Deal with him or I will.”

“You don’t boss me around.” My words land heavily between us. I hate to say it, but I have to say it. I have no plans to be anyone other than who I am. “Let’s be clear about that.”

The bands stretching tightly over his expression loosen just a little bit. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he drops a kiss at the corner of my mouth.

“That’s my girl.”

A confused laugh pops from my mouth. I assert myself, expecting resistance, and it only draws him closer.

“I have no desire to boss you around, Bristol. I love that you’re a boss. It’s sexy as hell.”

“Well, thank you for—”

He cups my pussy under the towel tucked around me, his eyes heated, holding me hostage.

“This is the only part of you I want to boss around.” His middle finger strokes along one side of my clit and then the other.

“There won’t be any doubt who’s the boss right here between these legs.”

The lazy motion of his finger snatches the breath from me. I’m wet and anaerobic, unable to even pant while he tends to my clit, brushing a rough finger pad along the slickened nub. One thick finger breaches me and retreats.