Page 37 of Tempting God

“You used my body wash.”

I glance at him. “I forgot mine.”

“I like that you smell like me, Little Fae. I like it a lot.”

I turn to face him, regretting it immediately. Because we’re so close that I can smell his minty breath. So close that we could kiss…

“We’re here, Mr. Carter,” the driver says.

Grant brushes his lips against mine before pulling away.

“Later,” he says. “We’ll finish this later.”

I exhale shakily.

“No, we won’t.”

But I’m speaking to myself because Grant is already out of the car.

I get out, shoving past Grant. He somehow manages to grab my hand, pulling me to his side.

“Easy. No need to go in so riled up. We don’t want anyone to think we’ve had a lover’s quarrel, now do we?”

I glare up at him, only to find him smirking.

Freaking. Jerk.

He holds my hand as we step into the elevator and doesn’t let go until we’re almost to the floor that Isa and Alessandro live on.

Grant says, “Stay away from Moretti.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I am.”

“Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?”

His shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Just trying to save you from embarrassing yourself some more.”

I say nothing. It won’t do any good. Instead, I elbow him as hard as I can and step out of the lift as the doors open.

Isa’s living room has been transformed into a party fit for a queen. Isa sits on a throne, and I find myself smiling as I head toward her. Guess she wasn’t joking about it. She stands when she sees me, but someone moves past me, going to her first.

Grant says to Isa, “Thank you for having me.”

Her gaze goes between the two of us, like she’s trying to figure out why we arrived together. I’ve always appreciated that she’s observant, but right now I wish she wasn’t.

Finally, she says, “Thank you for coming, Mr. Carter.”

“Please, call me Grant. All of my friends do.”

Unable to stop myself, I step on the toe of his shoe, earning a groan out of him.

“Everything okay, Mr. Carter,” I ask sweetly. “You’re looking a bit…constipated.”

“Rough flight,” he answers smoothly. “In fact, I’d like to tell Moretti about it. If you’ll excuse me.”

He leaves, crossing the room.

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