Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,266

He lifts one dark brow. “It would only make things worse, but I should have talked that through with you until we agreed on it, not tried to use the advantage our working relationship gives me to manipulate you.”

He pauses, hesitation evident in his expression.

“I want to be your partner, Bris,” he says softly. “In everything. There’s no rank between us—ever.”

I drop my eyes to the hands clasped in front of me.

“Thank you for that. I’m sorry, too. I should have said it first. It seems like whenever we fight, you’re always the one . . .”

I swallow my pride and set aside every insecurity that’s assaulting me to give him the truth.

“I’m just glad you’re here.” My voice wobbles. Dammit. “I’m just . . .I’m sorry.”

I don’t look up, but I hear him taking the first steps, feel him drawing closer. I anticipate his touch, shaking with the need of it. And then it comes. The perfect simplicity of our fingers twined together, of him holding my hand. It paradoxically brings me peace and incites my senses. Even as my soul seems to exhale in relief, want and need form a blazing knot in my belly. He tilts my chin until I have to meet his serious stare, his loving eyes.

“Bris, this is all we have.” His words are so low, if someone else were in this tiny room with us, they wouldn’t hear. They are only for me. “Until this semester is over, our time is split, and this is all we have.”

I press our palms together.

“If you legit had to stay here in LA this weekend for work, I get that,” he continues. “You know I’m not that dude who wants you compromising your career for me, but if you were avoiding me because of our fight—”

“I was.” The admission leaves my lips before I can dissemble. His closeness, the intimacy of our fingers clinging, of our hearts beating through our chests and straining toward each other, demands my unequivocal honesty. I don’t look away, refusing to let embarrassment over my childish behavior deprive me of these beautiful dark eyes for even another second. I don’t miss the flash of disappointment at my words.

“I know that.” Grip’s mouth tightens, and I want to lick at the seam of his lips until they open for me, until he lets me back in. “That’s why you should have had your ass in New York this weekend.”

With him standing here in front of me, solid evidence of his love, I’m ashamed of myself, ashamed that I let doubt and insecurity rule me. I let them keep me here when I should have been there with him.

“You’re right,” I state simply.

“I hate it when we fight.” He drags a hand across his face. “I can’t focus. I can’t sleep. I can’t . . .” His words straggle into a growl of frustration and his brows snap together. “Nothing feels right when we aren’t right. You let that shit Angie Black brought up get to you when you know it means nothing, and that stupid post on Instagram . . . I get how someone else would think something was up with Qwest when they saw that, but for you to . . .”

The questions build up in the look he gives me until I’m sure the moment will explode.

“Why, Bris? There’s gotta be more to this than just the shots Angie fired. We’re used to that shit. What’s up for real?”

The reality of him, the steady pulse of this connection we share— with him standing in front of me, all the things that kept me on this coast seem ridiculous now.

“I . . . um . . . I was . . .” I squeeze my eyes closed for a second, feeling ridiculous now. “I was jealous.”

“Jealous? Of Qwest?” The heavy breath he expels breaches the air between us. The demand of his eyes is louder than the word, louder than her name in the quiet room. “Because of some awkward photo posted to Instagram? How could you possibly be jealous of anyone when you know I’ve looked my own mother in the face and told her I would choose you over anyone?”

Well, when you put it that way . . .

“I didn’t . . .” I falter because it’s true; he did that. As much as Ms. James has sacrificed for him and as much as he loves her, he told her that, for me. “Not Qwest specifically.”

“Baby, I’mma need