Take Me with You (Take Me #2)(10)

“Apparently, everyone makes mistakes,” she said.

“Even a princess.”

A tentative smile crossed her face at the use of her nickname.

Fuck, that smile ruined me. I sighed and gave up the fight. I wanted to be angry, but I was f*cking happy to know what was wrong with her. If I were honest with myself, I was glad it wasn’t me.

“Come here,” I said, pulling her toward me.

My hands slid through her loose hair, and my lips greedily landed on hers. Her kisses were hot and needy. She pressed her body against me, and my mind raced ahead of me. How fast could I throw her back against the wall and get under that dress?

I was going to find out.

Grant swung me around and slammed my back into the wall. All the breath whooshed out of my lungs with the force of it. His lips crashed back down onto mine, and all that existed was here and now with him.

My fingers gripped his button-up and drew him closer to me. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere—dropping onto my shoulders, sliding over my waist, lifting the hem of my dress. I groaned into his mouth, and his tongue slid over mine. All of that built-up anger and frustration cracked open between us.

I had been so worried about what he would think once I finally told him what had happened that I hadn’t even been able to be myself. I’d started acting like the person I thought he wanted. We’d been having a lot of sex and doing very, very little talking. For me, it had almost been easier. Maybe it was because it was all so new, but I couldn’t let that continue forever. We had real issues that weren’t going to be worked out with one conversation. At least we’d initiated the conversation though.

“Grant,” I moaned.

“Just kiss me.”

He gripped my hips in his hands and gyrated his body against mine. I leaned my head back against the wall. My eyes fluttered closed. Heat traveled up my body, flushing my skin and making my heart race.

“I f*cking want you, Ari.”

“I’m yours,” I breathed.

“Right here. Right now.”

He hitched my leg up around his waist and pressed himself against me. Shit. I could feel him through his jeans. My body ached for his touch. This most certainly had never been our problem.

I heard his zipper, and my eyes shot open. Wait. Did he actually mean right here? As in, against the brick wall outside of the League where anyone could walk by and see us having sex?

His hand brushed against my panties, and I squirmed beneath him. Fuck, I was already wet. I saw the moment when he realized that. A smirk crossed his face, and all the cocky arrogance that was Grant McDermott flooded to the surface.

I pushed him back a step and straightened my dress. “I’m not going to have sex with you against a brick wall. Who do you think I am?”

“My girlfriend?” He shoved me backward against the wall and ran his hand down my dress. “Be a little adventurous, Princess.”

“That’s right. I’m your girlfriend. Not some groupie slut.”

“Can I treat you like one for a minute and f*ck you backstage?” he asked.

“You’re a real charmer.”

He grabbed my face between his hands and roughly kissed me. “I’ll charm you right out of your pants.”

“I’m not wearing pants.”

“It’s already worked,” he said, grabbing my hand. “Come on.”

“Grant…” I groaned.

He dragged me around the side of the building and to a blank back door.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking what’s mine.”

And really…I had no argument for that. He yanked open the door and led me down the backstage hallway. The door to the lounge was ajar, but no one was inside, and the lights were out. He ushered me inside, slamming and locking the door behind him.

I reached for the light, but Grant was there before me. He grabbed my hand, keeping the lights off, and drew me toward the couch. Luckily, I was familiar enough with the back of the League to know where I was going, but still, I bumped into the coffee table as we went.

“Ow!” I yelped.

Grant laughed seductively in the dark room. He brought his lips down on mine, soft and sensual. He was in his element here. My heart beat in time with his as he clutched the material of my dress at my lower back. He traveled up the seam and tugged the zipper down to the base of my spine so quickly that I couldn’t even respond. He pushed the material over my hips and let the dress pool at my feet.

“That’s better,” he said.

“If you think about laying me down on that gross scratchy couch…”

“I like where your mind is at. You can be on top.”

He moved my hand to the waistline of his jeans. I took his lead and unbuttoned his jeans. My hand slid under his boxers, and I grasped his dick. He was already so hard and ready for me. It only intensified my ache for him. How did he make me so desperate for his touch?

“Fuck, Ari,” he groaned as I stroked him. “If you keep that up, I’m going to throw you down on that couch whether you like it or not.”

“You can tease, but I can’t?”

He tensely gripped my shoulders. “That’s right. Tease me later. Fuck me now.”

A second later, his jeans and boxers landed in the pile with my dress and panties. He sank back into the couch and pulled me on top of him. He buried his face into my neck, sending chill bumps down my arms.