Page 121 of Not A Whisper

Trip gets the upper hand, rolling Jason beneath him. “Never claimed to be anything else.”

Jason knees him between the legs. Trip swears before falling to one side. Jason lunges for his wrists to pin him down, but Trip moves, rolling in in the opposite direction in the tight space and nearly into me. I laugh at their antics as I scramble to my feet.

Grant catches my wrist and yanks me down onto his lap.

“Look what you started, dollface,” he says, his arms wrapping around my waist. “You’re trouble of the worst kind.”

Despite his words, his lips skim up my throat. I hum happily as he plants a kiss at the junction where my neck meets my jawline. Grant’s hands slide up the sides of my body, slow and unhurried. A hard shiver rushes through me. Can he feel it? Trip started something and my body aches for someone to finish it. I turn into Grant and capture his mouth with my own. My tongue travels over his lips. He opens his mouth for me to deepen our kiss but instead of accepting the invitation, I bite his bottom lip hard enough to cause him to yelp.

I giggle as I pull back to stare into his face. He glares at me, but it lacks heat.

“Yup, I’m definitely trouble.” I kiss the tip of his nose.

He studies me. The glare melts away and lights brighten behind those auburn eyes. His mouth twitches into a smile. “We’ll tame you yet, dollface.”

I make a face. “You might have already done so. Why else would I agree to go to this fundraiser thing tomorrow night?”

Grant’s brows fly up. “Really? You’re going to come?”

The grunting, curses and hisses coming from the two guys on the floor are ignored as I nod.

“Yeah, you said you wanted a united front so… Let’s go together.” I sigh, leaning into him. “But you’ll have to do most of the talking. I’ll probably open my mouth only to make a fool of myself. What do rich assholes talk about anyway? I don’t own a boat or play golf, so those topics of conversation are out of the question.”

My whole body jostles around as Grant throws his head back and laughs loudly.

“I think I can handle that, dollface.”

I smile. “Then it’s settled. Let’s face off with Garry Gipson together.”

Thirty

The following night, there’s a knock on the bedroom door.

I ignore it for a second, turning to one side then the other to check that the deep, floor-length plum dress’s slits don’t ride up too high on either side. The Queen Anne neckline is modest enough, though the way the material clings to every inch of my body the rest of the way down makes it a bit sexier than I’d like. At least for a charity auction.

Grant brought it home after the guys came back from the dry cleaners.

“Grant, that’s not your color.” I eyed the gorgeous dress he held up for me to see.

Grant snorted at me. “No, but it’ll look nice onyou, dollface.”

“Where did you get a dress this last minute?” I knew the answer before the entire sentence was out of my mouth. I glared at him. “You were planning on having me come anyway. When did you buy this?”

“I bought thisbeforeI promised I’d include you in any planning or schemes,” he’d said innocently enough. “In any case, I’m allowed to dress my doll however I fucking want. Remember that moving forward.”

I think back to that conversation and roll my eyes. Deep in my gut, I have a sinking suspicion Grant probably would’ve somehow coerced me into coming to this charity auction despite his promise. But since I can’tprovethat now that I’ve willingly agreed to come along, I tuck the wariness away.

To be honest, I’m a little relieved he’d brought it home. Not only did I not have anything to wear to an event like this, but I also didn’t know what was considered in-style among the upper crust. By making the executive decision in picking out the dress, Grant had inadvertently relieved me of having to worry about either problem.

I tilt my head, checking my curls. Twisted in an updo with several strands strategically fallingnaturallyfrom it, I think it’s the best it’s going to get. With that, I give myself a sharp nod of determination before calling over my shoulder, “Come in!”

The door swings open. Jason strolls in a second later, redirecting when he sees me in the corner.

Oh… My nerves are instantly shoved away as the young man with bouncing dark brown curls, a dimpling smile, and bright eyes approaches in a suit made just for him.

“Holy shit, Jason,” I turn around to face him, momentarily at a loss for words as I take him in. The tux accentuates his broad shoulders and barely conceals his muscular arms. The pocket square is the only burst of color, the sage green almost matching the color of his eyes. Not quite, but close.

Jason’s smile grows bigger as his eyes slide over every inch of me. “Yeah, I’m feeling the same way at the sight of you, dollie.”

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