“I want you,” I whispered.

“To fuck you.”

I swallowed hard. “I want you to fuck me, Grant.”

There was no hesitation on his end. He didn’t even ask me if I was still sore, which I was, but at this point, I just didn’t care. I was pretty sure I’d suffer for this later, but damn, I wanted him.

Grant grabbed my head, and our lips met with an intensity and ferocity that had been missing in our gentle embrace last night. He kissed me like a starving man with his first morsel of food, like a heroine addict getting his next hit, like a reigning boxing champion clamoring for his next fight. I was his drug of choice, and he was using me to feed his addiction.

Our lips moved against each other, tongues twisting and massaging. His teeth latched onto my bottom lip and dragged it back toward him.

I couldn’t get enough. I needed his touch. I needed him pressed against me. I needed us to be connected like this.

We quickly removed the remainder of our clothing, and Grant slipped on a condom. His hands found the backs of my legs, and he dragged me out flat on the bed. Our bodies were aching for each other.

He went in easier this time even if it hurt like a bitch. I bit my bottom lip hard and tried to push the pain back. Oh God, nope. It still felt like he was tearing me open. I took a few deep breaths as he filled me all the way.

He started moving sooner than he had last time, and I found that the more he slid in and out of me, the less I noticed the pain. Actually, all I was starting to notice was the pleasure rushing up my body and spreading to my fingertips, causing me to clench the covers and curl my toes.

“Fuck, Ari,” Grant groaned, leaning his body over me.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“I should slow down,” he said reluctantly.

I shook my head. Yes, he should slow down, but no, I didn’t want him to. I didn’t have to tell him twice about that either. Grant pulled one of my legs up and leaned forward into it. My eyes widened. I hadn’t thought that he would be able to get deeper, but clearly, that was not the case.

My head tilted back into the pillow. My world was spinning. Pain mixed with pleasure in a way I’d never experienced and had no way of explaining. Grant was moving not too fast but not slow either, and all I could feel was the energy building inside me.

“Grant,” I moaned.

My walls tightened all around him, and I couldn’t hold back the release rocking my body. I dug my fingers into the duvet and felt like I was ripping through the material.

A moment later, Grant gasped and then shuddered as he finished just after me.

Exhaustion pulled me under, and when I finally woke up again, it was already early afternoon. I’d practically missed the whole day with Grant, and I was starving. But when I woke up, Grant was missing. Where did he go?

I stretched out my aching muscles and then made the mistake of trying to stand up. Holy fire and brimstone! My body was down for the count. Besides the tenderness between my legs that felt like I’d just run a mile, I was so weak with hunger that it took real effort to keep the dizziness at bay.

My skinny jeans were somewhere on the floor, and I winced as I pulled them on. This was not going to be fun. After throwing my shirt and cardigan back on, I went looking for Grant. The bathroom was empty, but the shower seemed to beckon me. I would die for a shower and a hamburger right about now, not at the same time. Maybe. I peeked my head out of the room to make sure I wouldn’t get caught in any crossfire this time, and I found the room mostly empty.

Grant was sitting on the couch with his guitar in his lap. He expertly picked at a few chords and repeated one line over and over again. I recognized it from their song “Letting You.” They liked to close with that song, and it was one of my favorites.

“I like that one,” I whispered, coming out of the bedroom and taking a seat next to him.

“Yeah. It’s one of Miller’s best. How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock. You couldn’t sleep?”

“Too pumped about the show.”

He strummed out a melody I hadn’t heard before, and I stretched out as he played it on repeat.

“You’ll be great.”

“All I know how to do, Princess.”

“What’s this song? I haven’t heard it.”

“Something new.”

“I didn’t know Miller had written something new for the show.”

Grant stopped what he was playing and ran his fingers back through my loose hair. I sighed and closed my eyes.

“I wrote this one,” he finally murmured.