K. Linde - Take Me for Granted

I stormed out of that room like someone had lit a fire under my ass. I pushed past the guys and ignored their questions. They could see the murderous look on my face, but I didn’t have it in me to tell them the audacity that prick had.

Blondie was waiting for me as well, but I wasn’t in the mood for that bullshit tonight. I’d barely been in the mood for it before Frank Boseley had fucked up my entire night.

Now, I was only in the mood for one thing.

“Where do you live?” I asked Cheyenne as soon as I reached her.

I was not sulking just because my roommates had all gone to the ContraBand show in the city and left me behind. I hadn’t wanted to go, and I certainly hadn’t wanted to see Grant McDermott.

But I couldn’t concentrate on my homework, and for the first time in forever, I felt a bit silly for doing homework on a Saturday night. My shoulders ached from hunching over my desk all day. I rolled them back a few times and closed my book. I might as well try to get some sleep.

As I was about to change into something more comfortable, a knock on the door stopped me short. Who the hell is at my door? I hoped it wasn’t my drug dealer neighbors. The last time they had stopped by, they had asked if they could stash their weed in our house until the cops passed through, and then they’d had the nerve to be angry when I’d refused.

I looked through the peephole in my door to see who it was, and my eyes widened in shock. Grant McDermott was standing on my front porch. I flattened myself against the door and took a few heaving breaths. I didn’t care that I had been thinking about him all night—or all day, for that matter. I couldn’t answer the door.

“Aribel!” Grant called, banging on the door again. “I know you’re in there. Cheyenne said you would be home.”

Cheyenne! That traitor!

“Aribel! Are you there?”

I sighed heavily. Well, what should I do now? He looked like he might stand out there all night. Not that it would really bother me, but I did want to get some sleep tonight. Just as he started attacking my door again, I pulled it open with a scowl.

I smoothed my blonde hair back and then tried to stop fidgeting. “What do you want, Grant?”

“Can I come in?”

“To my house?” I asked incredulously.

“Where the fuck else would I come, babe?” He arched an eyebrow, and the first hint of a smirk crossed his face.

Is everything sexual with him?

Yes.

“No, you can’t come in. Aren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“You’re not in New York,” he said plainly.

“How observant. Didn’t you have a show?”

I was stalling, and he could tell. He took a step toward me. I stood my ground, which took real effort because of his nearness.

“I finished my show,” he growled. “Now, can I come in?”

Jesus, what is up with him? He seemed even more…primal than normal.

“I already told you no.”

“I drove all the way from the city to see you. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Not sure what you want it to count for. I thought I made myself perfectly clear after you got me kicked out of my class yesterday.”

“So, you won’t let me in then?” He hovered mere inches away from me.

“I’m not sure how many more times I have to tell you that you can’t come inside,” I said irritably.

A smile crossed his face, the same one that had done me in the last time we’d been together. I could feel the tension crackling between us, like a struck match or a zap of static.

“Fine,” he said.

Then, he grabbed me around the waist, yanked me outside, and dropped his mouth down onto mine hungrily. I lost myself in his lips. His hands ducked under my sweater, and his fingers dug into my soft flesh beneath. And without even realizing it, I was grasping his T-shirt for dear life and feeling the cold metal of his dog tags in my hands.

Holy shit! I’d never been kissed like this before. My whole body was on fire, and his lips were just fueling the flame. Burning desire snaked through me, starting in my fingertips, scorching through my chest, and settling in my core.

Grant walked me backward into my apartment and slammed the door shut. My back hit the wall, but our lips never broke apart. His hands ventured up my shirt, and I stopped breathing as he trailed his fingers lightly along my ribs. He skimmed the underside of my breast, and a groan escaped my lips. I squirmed against him, wanting what he was offering and silently freaking the fuck out.

“Grant,” I groaned.

His mouth left mine, and he started kissing down my neck. My chest rose and fell heavily.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” I repeated mockingly.

He pulled back and stared down into my eyes. “Princess, Aribel, Ari, whatever you want me to call you.”

Bending slightly, he seized the backs of my thighs and hoisted them around his waist. I gasped out and instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” I cried in shock.

He started walking toward the living room without answering me.

“Grant, put me down!”

Once we were standing over the couch, he lowered me onto it and covered my body with his.

Oh my God, he is rock solid. I could feel every inch of him as he lay there on top of me. He wasn’t overly built, but he was all lean muscle, and the way his body was moving against mine was making me forget sense.

His lips found mine again, and then I felt his erection slide up against the thin material of my yoga pants. My mind immediately started firing on all cylinders again, and I knew exactly what he’d wanted when he laid me down on the couch.

“Grant, stop!” I said, pushing at his chest.

Holy shit! How had I let myself get this carried away? I never got carried away. His kisses had done things to me that I didn’t understand. I’d completely lost myself…and I’d liked it. But as much as I’d liked it, I couldn’t let it continue.

My breathing was ragged as I tried to get myself under control. His body still covered mine, and I was sure he knew exactly what he had done to me.

He groaned and pulled back to stare at me with his pleading brown eyes. His body was still aligned with mine, and when I shifted, he gripped my hip tighter in his hand.

“Oh, come on. You want me.”

I shook my head and swallowed. I didn’t want this even if I had gotten lost in his lips.

“You seriously want me to stop after you kissed me like that?”

At least I knew it had affected him, too. Actually, as I shifted out from under him to sit up, that became very clear. “I didn’t kiss you like anything.”

“Bullshit!”

“Well, are you happy? You got what you wanted.”

“I got a tenth of what I wanted, princess.”

“A tenth is all you’re going to get. Now, you should probably go,” I told him.

“Go?” His eyebrows shot up. “You’re kicking me out after I just got permission to enter?”

“I didn’t give you permission.”

His hand ran down my jawline. “How many other people do you kiss like that when they ask to come inside?”

I swatted his hand away. “What are you really doing here, Grant? Besides the other nine-tenths that you want.”

“I thought you would be at the show.”

“I bet plenty of other girls were at the show, offering a lot more, that you didn’t have to drive home to see.”

“Would you prefer I was with them?” he asked.

He was waiting for me to contradict him, but that smile on his face held my tongue.

“You answer my questions with questions a lot.”

Grant shrugged and glanced away. “Do you really want to know? I haven’t even told the guys yet.”

I hadn’t expected him to actually answer when I asked him the question, but he wasn’t advancing on me at this point, so that was a positive.

I might as well keep him talking. “Sure.”

“We had a scout for a label come to the show tonight.”

“That’s good, right?” I asked uncertainly.

He didn’t look like it had been a good thing.

He scoffed. “It should have been. Fucking prick.”

I fiddled with my fingernails and tucked my legs up underneath me. “Did the scout not like your band?”

“He liked me,” he said plainly.

He was fuming and trying desperately not to show it. I wondered how often he talked to people about the shit in his life because he seemed incredibly uncomfortable with it. I couldn’t blame him though. It wasn’t like I was particularly forthright about my own life.

“I’m not following.”

He jumped out of his seat and stomped angrily across the room. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, and the muscles in his arms bulged. I noticed a tattoo peeking out of his shirt on his bicep, but I couldn’t really see what it was.

“They wanted me but not the band. They offered to sign me if I left ContraBand.”

It sounded like a pretty shitty deal if he was that invested in the band, but maybe he just wanted to be famous. Looking at his scowling face, I couldn’t see that being the case.

“I’m guessing you didn’t do it?”

“Do I look like a fucking sellout to you?”

I glared at him. “Don’t yell at me! I was just asking. You’re the one telling me about your shitty night. I don’t have to listen!”

“Fine. I didn’t mean to blow up. I’m just…I’m not a fucking sellout.”

“I never said you were. I just thought you might want this as a career, and someone offered it to you, so it makes sense that you might have taken it. I guess I was wrong.” I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth.