Page 21 of Holy Sinner

“You know I will,” I tell him before I kiss him. He inhales deeply with our kiss and I do the same. The press of his body against mine is good. Solid and strong. It grounds me to the present better than any meditation class or hypnotherapy Rita tried to make me take to help me de-stress and focus.

“If you don’t learn to fucking relax you’re going to burn out and I’m not letting that happen to you, so get your ass on the meditation train, Rafe or else.”

I lean into Grant and let him push me back onto the couch until I’m settled beneath him. He kisses my neck and I close my eyes with a sigh. I mostly napped when she thought I was meditating but I’m wide awake now. I’m also relaxed. Rita would be proud.

Who knew Grant Stone was going to be the thing that I needed to make it happen?

Grant’s teeth nip my skin and I welcome the sting of it. Doesn’t mean that I do it quietly. “You give me a fucking hicky and I’ll give you a black eye.”

Grant scoffs. His breath is warm against my neck and he kisses the place he just bit. “Stop fucking talking. You’re prettier when you keep quiet.”

“So are you,” I grumble but I do what he says. It’s easier when there’s no words between us. We communicate better without them. Grant’s gentler than I’m used to tonight. He kisses me more than not, the slide of his hands over my abs and up my sides is slow. The touch of someone exploring with all the time in the world. I wrap an arm around him and lean into his grip. When he pulls at my sweats, I lift my hips to let him and do the same to him. He moves, the drag of his dick against my thigh has my blood pumping in anticipation.

I know what comes next.

I need what comes next.

“Grant.” I don’t tell him I love him. I don’t feel what I do with Kit for him. That’s just for her. But there’s something there between us. When he wraps his hand around my dick to stroke it and take it into his mouth, he doesn’t say anything, either. He just looks at me. I’ve lost count of how many times it’s been just us while Kit sleeps. I’ve looked enough to know Grant’s eyes aren’t the summer blue or Mediterranean shit the entertainment sites swear by, they’re stormy, like an overcast sky with flecks of blue so dark they look black.

From the way Grant looks at me, I know he’s got my eyes memorized too. For as long as it’s just us, there’s nothing else I give a fuck about but Grant’s eyes.

Chapter Eleven

KIT

When Grant and Rafe come to bed, I’m awake. I tried to sleep but it was impossible, even after I snuck a few shots of Rafe’s godawful whiskey. I know it’s the good stuff from the fancy labels and the way that it comes delivered in a silver case. The heavy green glass bottle looks like it's straight out of an art museum.

I’m more of a wine girly, maybe a double vodka cranberry when I’m feeling reckless and in the mood to break into Grant’s vodka. Whiskey of any kind is hard for me to do straight. I only do it because it works to slow down my panic enough for me to emerge from my anxiety to try and think clearly about my situation.

My situation being that I lost my goddamn mind and nearly cut Jasmine’s head off today. Yes, she earned it but what the hell was I thinking? Then there’s the fact that I’m pretty sure a photographer got photos of Rafe going down on me tonight.

Grant went after him but I didn’t miss the tense way he looked when he came back and tried to play it off like everything was just fine. I know him well enough to know when he’s lying to me.

Things are not fine.

I swallow hard and turn on my side to look out the window. It’s around two in the morning but Seattle is still shining brightly outside. The sheer curtains that I picked for our apartment dulls the light enough that it’s more ambient than anything but I can see Grant’s profile in the light. His full lips and aquiline nose are every bit as perfect and pretty as I know them to be and all it takes is for me to move an inch before he shifts and makes room for me to curl in closer to him.

“Sweetheart, you should be sleeping,” he murmurs against my temple when I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest.

“I can’t sleep,” I whisper, even though I know Rafe is awake. He’s always the last of us to fall asleep and even without looking at him, I know he’s wide awake. Most likely watching me with a frown.

“You need to rest. We have to be on set early tomorrow,” Rafe grumbles. I smile because he sounds as annoyed as I knew he would be.

“Today was a lot. I can’t stop my mind enough to rest,” I tell him and he moves in close behind me. The big man wraps an arm around me and Grant and hugs us both close.

“I know dinner was a lot. Grant took care of it.”

“Is that what you were both talking about before bed?”

I know they weren’t talking. I heard them or at least enough to know that very little talking happened between my men in the past hour, which thank god. It’s always nerve-racking when you aren’t sure if you’ll come home to your boyfriends stabbing each other.

Again.

Grant swore he wouldn’t do it again when I burst into tears but I don’t know. I don’t trust them with each other. It’s a relief they’ve begun to spend time together without me.

“Some,” Grant says and rolls onto his side to look at me. The light behind him makes it impossible to see his face. There’s nothing but darkness there. I hope he can’t see my face either because I still haven’t told them what I did with Jasmine. If I did, I’m not sure what they would do.

I’ll tell them…eventually. Just not now.

---