Take Me for Granted (Take Me #1)(32)

When the hallway was empty, he opened up another door and gestured for me to walk inside.

My eyebrows rose. “Grant, what are we doing?”

“Just go inside.”

He smacked my ass, and I glared at him.

“Come on, Princess, play along.”

I didn’t say anything. I just walked inside.

Grant walked all the way to the back row of the empty theater, and we took seats just as whatever movie we had just stumbled into started playing.

His arm came down across my shoulders, and he nuzzled my neck. “I think we should have come to this showing first,” he murmured.

“Why is that?”

I should have been freaking out that we had walked into a movie without paying, but whatever he was doing to my neck was distracting.

“I was having trouble keeping my hands to myself in that crowded theater.”

“You always have trouble keeping your hands to yourself.”

“You like it.”

I didn’t reply. His hand ran down my side, and then he pulled me into his lap.

We made out through the next two movies.

Date Five

Two weeks later, Grant told me to bring a bathing suit and nothing else. It was October in Jersey. Is he out of his mind? Where the hell are we supposed to go swimming when it was forty degrees outside at night?

Grant parked his truck outside of a hotel. Well, there’s my answer. His friend worked at the place and had slipped him a key card to the indoor pool. After dark, Grant and I snuck inside. Actually, it was more like Grant dragged me inside. First, the movies, and now, breaking into a hotel swimming pool?

“We’re not breaking in,” Grant tried to reassure me. “I have a key.”

“That you basically stole from an employee.”

“Darlin’, if we get caught, I’ll let them haul me off to jail. Just don’t hurt my truck, all right?”

I rolled my eyes and slipped out of my clothes. I self-consciously covered my stomach as I stood before Grant in my blue-and-white striped bikini. He’d seen me in less, but I couldn’t help it. His eyes roamed my body, and I quickly skipped into the heated pool.

What he couldn’t see before, he had his hands all over as soon as he’d gotten into the pool. “Have you ever broken into a pool before?”

“You just said we didn’t break in!”

His eyes shined with amusement.

“Gah! No.”

“Ever done anything illegal?”

“I’ve drank alcohol before,” I answered lamely.

“Drugs?”

I shook my head.

“Stolen anything?”

“Nope.”

“Do you at least speed in your car?”

I smiled up at him.

“Damn, you’re picture-perfect, Princess.”

“I once slapped a guy across the face for grabbing my butt at a bar,” I offered with a shrug.

He responded by grabbing my ass. Typical.

He held my slick body against his, and all I saw were the deep chocolate orbs and flecks of gold catching the moonlight through the windows. He seemed more contemplative than usual. Normally, he just wanted to attack me.

“What do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

“I’m always studying.”

“You’re not right now. Are you saying you like to do me when you’re not studying?” He winked.

“Wouldn’t you already know if that were the case?” I shot back.

“Indulge me, Ari.”

His lips grazed mine tenderly, and for the hundredth time since we’d decided to give this a shot, I thought that I was definitely going to let him do whatever he wanted.

“Horseback riding,” I finally answered, coming to my senses. “I did it as a kid, and I almost always go when I’m at home.”

“I could see you on a horse.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but I kept going with his game. “I like to bake cupcakes.”

“Coincidence—I like to eat cupcakes. German chocolate.”

I giggled and shook my head. “I used to play piano, but my hands are too small.”

He grabbed my hands and brought them up to his eye level, inspecting them thoroughly. His lips touched every inch of skin from my pruney fingertips to the small scar near my thumb where a dog had bitten me in high school and on to the other one.

“Your hands are perfect.”

Date Seven

My last class was canceled on Tuesday afternoon, which gave me free time to plan out my date. We’d been doing whatever Grant wanted for over two weeks, and I thought it was about time to plan something myself.

Cheyenne eyed me suspiciously from behind the kitchen counter while I was baking cupcakes. After Grant’s outburst in The Coffee Bean, we’d thought it best to keep everything on the down low. I wouldn’t lie to my roommates about what was going on, but I wasn’t exactly being forthright with information, not that that was new.

“What are you doing?” Cheyenne asked.

“Making cupcakes.”

“For whom?”

I shot her a look.

“Grant?” she offered.

I just shrugged. What did she want me to say? Yes, I’m dating Grant. No, it isn’t a big deal.