K. Linde - Take Me for Granted

“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.

I had asked him one simple question, and he didn’t have to be such an ass about it.

“As long as I have my guitar, I’m fucking solid.” He mirrored me and crossed his arms. “The band isn’t just a band. Those guys are my brothers. It would be like getting rid of family, and I’m not fucking doing that.”

That was probably the nicest thing I’d ever heard come out of Grant’s mouth, and we’d managed to have a semblance of a conversation without him making some dick sexual reference.

“Then, it sounds like you made the right choice. Why are you so pissed off about it?”

He shrugged and turned.

I stared at his profile. His jaw was strong and defined with stubble growing in. His lips were full, and his nose was angular. I could make out his high cheekbones and the intensity of his gaze.

“Grant?” I prompted.

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Are you just going to stand there all night and try to figure it out?”

“I’d rather get back to my nine-tenths, princess,” he said, walking back over to me and sitting down.

I stood hastily. “I don’t think so, Prince Charming.”

Grant laughed at the nickname and leaned back casually on the couch. “Charming, huh?”

“Or maybe you’re actually a frog.”

“Does that mean I get to kiss you again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You know, I think what irritates me is that I can’t release my frustration. Are you sure you can’t help with that?”

I rolled my eyes. Nice try. “Not a chance. You should probably go actually, so I can go to sleep.”

“Want some company?” He stood and his fingertips circled my waist, drawing me toward him.

How did he do that so easily?

“Um…no company.”

Seeing that I wasn’t going to change my mind, he grumbled something under his breath. “All right.”

He trudged across the room, and I followed him.

He reached for the door. “So, Ari, can I see you again?”

I smiled despite myself. He’d used my name. Even if it was a shortened version of it, it was my name. Improvement.

“Do I have much of a choice?” I asked, knowing that it wasn’t likely.

“No, not really.”

“Relentless, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, slipping my hand into his and pulling me into him.

I didn’t even fight him this time.

My arm wound around his neck as he dipped his head and placed a kiss firmly on my lips. It wasn’t the fiery passion and deliriousness of the last one, but this one was a promise. He was telling me that I would be seeing more of him whether I wanted to or not, and my answering kiss betrayed the fact that I wanted to.

It was official. Aribel fucked me up. The asshole at the record label be damned, Ari was the one driving me mad. I’d kissed a lot of girls, and not a single one of them had I thought about longer than a fleeting moment. I’d say I didn’t fuck girls twice, but I couldn’t remember them long enough to know if that were true.

So, why had I driven all the way from the city to see Aribel without the promise of some ass? In fact, I’d been certain she would turn me down. But something about her had made me want to try for it anyway. Maybe it had been the way she put up a fight, her reactions to me kissing and touching her, or her fucking bullshit banter.

And who is the pussy that had taken over my body when I opened up and told her about the band? Any other girl, I would have just fucked until I forgot about it, but no, not Ari. She wouldn’t let me forget about it. She wouldn’t even let me keep kissing her.

I’d thought that maybe since I told someone about what had happened with the label, it would be easier to tell my boys about what had gone down when I stayed behind. But it wasn’t.

I walked into the garage for our regularly scheduled band rehearsal the next afternoon, and all the guys were sitting around on couches, not touching their instruments. Yeah, I’d seen this coming.

“Rehearsal is canceled. We’re going to get beers,” McAvoy told me with a nod.

“All right,” I said. “Want me to drive?”

Miller shrugged as he walked past me and out of the garage. So, he’s pissed. Well, aren’t we all? Last night hadn’t gone down how any of us anticipated.

“That means, yes, dick,” Vin said, punching me on the arm, as he followed Miller out.

“Are they going to hate on me all night?” I asked McAvoy.

“It’ll blow over, dude,” McAvoy said, holding a joint between his fingers. “Want some before we go?”

He handed off the joint to me, and I took it graciously. I fucking need this. After taking a few long drags, I passed it back to McAvoy, and we walked out to my truck.

I headed to a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant that we frequented in town and pulled my truck into the run-down parking lot. They had good food and cheap beer, which was all that mattered. We took our normal seats in the back of the restaurant and ordered a few pitchers.

“So, what happened last night?” Miller asked, getting straight to the point.

“Yeah, you ran out of the fucking place like some motherfucker was chasing you with a gun,” Vin said.

I shrugged. “The label offered me a solo gig.”

The guys nodded like they had been expecting that. They still looked pissed, and I couldn’t blame them.