Take Me for Granted (Take Me #1)(38)

He just smirked and hopped out of his truck. Tucking a handful of blankets under his arm, he helped me out of the truck and took my hand. As we left the parking lot behind, I took in my surroundings—squat buildings, sea salt in the air, sand peppering the ground under my feet. Then, we turned a corner, and all I could see stretched out before me was the dark blue water of the Atlantic Ocean.

“The shore?”

“I used to come out here when I was in high school and watch the sunrise from the beach. I still drive out here sometimes when I need to think. It’s always been my place of solace. I thought it could be yours, too.”

I just stared at him. Who is this man? When I had first met him, all I’d seen was what was on the outside—playboy, manwhore, drunk, ass**le, misogynist, rocker. But this Grant, the one he didn’t show to the rest of the world, was so much more than that.

“You hate it?”

“No! I love it,” I said quickly. “You’re just…not what you seem.”

“I would generally disagree with that.”

“How many people have you brought to the beach?”

Grant kissed me softly. “One.”

“Why are you sharing this with me?” I couldn’t help asking.

He shrugged and looked sincerely concerned about the question. It was clear that he hadn’t really thought about it, and now that he was, he wasn’t sure about the answer. “You make me want to share everything with you, Ari.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He smiled down at me and led me out into the sand without a reply. He spread out a blanket for us to sit on and then wrapped us up in a few more as we huddled together.

After a few minutes of silence, Grant spoke up again, “You did everything.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. When I’m with you, I don’t feel anything.”

I turned to glare at him. Is that supposed to be encouraging?

“No, not like that. I’m bad at this. I’m not a good guy. I’ve never cared about anything. The only thing that made me feel was adrenaline—my motorcycle, the band, the girls. They were a temporary fix on my permanent lack of caring for anything and everything.”

“You care about the band…and the guys.”

“I know. I don’t mean, I don’t care about them. I guess I mean, I don’t care about me—at least…I didn’t until you.”

Our fingers laced together, and we sat in the silence of his confession until the sun first broke the surface. Orange and pink rays cut across the early morning sky, and then we were kissing. My fingers tangled in his hair as his hands laid me back on the blanket. Our breaths came out short and frantic as we grappled with the rising emotions flooding our bodies.

“Ari, I want you,” he groaned into my ear.

I responded by pressing myself against him. I wanted him, too. Dear Lord, I’d never felt such fire coursing through me.

Wasting no time, Grant found the waistline of my pants, and he began tugging them down my body. I heard the zipper on his jeans, and suddenly, he was free of the restricting material and pushing us together, skin-to-skin. My body arched as he slid up and down against me. His tip touched my opening, and I squirmed, wanting it so desperately but knowing deep down that I should tell him.

Grant felt me tense, and he retreated. “I have a condom,” he said, assuming that was my concern.

“I’m sorry,” I said, scooting backward, away from him. “I just…I, um…” Fuck, I don’t know how to do this. “I’m sorry. I just never thought my first time would be outside…on the ground…in the freezing cold.”

Chapter 23: Grant

“First time?”

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I quickly straightened myself up and took two steps back in the sand. Why the f**k didn’t I see this coming? Why the f**k didn’t I see all the signs? I’d assumed her innocence had something to do with bad experiences with other guys. I’d thought I could crack open the shell encasing her. I’d thought that she would see that it was okay to be with me.

But f**k…

Virgin?

That was a four-letter word in my vocabulary. Most dudes liked virgins. They got off on the idea of taking someone’s purity, claiming her innocence. Not me. Not ever.

Ari’s eyes were wide as she stared up at me expectantly. And I had no f**king clue what to do. Instincts told me to back away slowly and then get the hell out of here. This was a shitty situation. I’d f**ked dozens and dozens of girls. I shouldn’t be the one to take this from her.

“I should have told you earlier,” she said, tugging her clothes back on. She stood and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why didn’t you?” I demanded.

Her hurricane eyes clouded over. “I wasn’t going to tell you at first because I didn’t think we would end up here. Then, the further and further we progressed in…whatever this is, I just couldn’t force the words out.”

“You should have told me.” For some reason, it was the only thing I could think about. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to have sex with you, and you could have easily told me?”

“Yes!” she cried. “Yes, I know. I know. I’m sorry, Grant.”