Take Me for Granted (Take Me #1)(15)

“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 f**king 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 f**king 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 f**king 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 f**king 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.