Page 29 of Mismatched Mates

My shoulders relaxed. A little of the fizzing in my belly subsided. I needed space from Grant, even if every atom in my body wanted to find him again, like our bodies were connected by elastic bands, and the space between us was making them draw tight.

Infatuation, that was all this was. No one had ever treated me like this, and I was getting carried away. Heather’s doom and gloom predictions echoed in my mind, which only strengthened my resolve to prove her wrong.

I was in control.

“Jane?” The elastic band snapped tight. His voice was a low purr. “I turned around and you were gone.”

Slowly, I turned, confronted with all six-foot-too-many of him in the doorway, the light shining behind him like he was some kind of angel. But we both knew better than that.

He strolled—noprowled—closer, and touched his finger to my cheek. “Do you want to go home?”

Good question, but I couldn’t bring myself to utter a sensible response.Yes, because this wasn’t the place where I belonged; all glam and glitz and compliments delivered with a sting.No, because if I went home, then that meant the evening would end, and I knew a part of me would miss him.

I wavered, unsure of what I wanted or needed in that moment. "I... I'm not sure," I finally admitted.

Grant's gaze softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his expression. He took a step closer, his hand lingering on my cheek. “Sometimes these events can be suffocating, especially when you're surrounded by people who don't truly see you for who you are."

I glanced up at him, searching for any hint of pretense or deception, but all I found was sincerity in his gaze. Was he talking about me or him?

“I'm not interested in anything casual,” I blurt out. Especially not with someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Grant echoed, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

I looked up and met his gaze. "You know exactly what I mean. You're... trouble."

He didn't deny it. Instead, a slow smile spread across his face, making him look even more infuriatingly handsome. "Maybe. But maybe a little trouble is exactly what you need."

I laughed, but there's an edge of truth to his words that I can't quite shake. "You really think you know me, don’t you?"

He tilted his head, studying me. "I think I know enough to see that you're stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I think you've spent a lot of time putting everyone else first."

The air between us shifted, the teasing banter giving way to something more serious. I felt the tension tightening like a wire, and for a moment, I’m not sure if I want to pull away or lean in.

"You don't know anything about me," I protested, though my voice wavered just a little.

Grant's expression softened, his smirk fading. "Maybe not everything. But I know you deserve more than what you’ve been settling for."

The words hit harder than I expected, and I swallowed, trying to brush off the sudden lump in my throat. "And what, exactly, do you think I’ve been settling for?"

His eyes darkened, and he leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "A life that doesn't make you happy.

For a moment, I’m speechless. It’s like he saw through all the walls I’ve spent years building, straight to the raw parts of me I’ve tried so hard to hide. Part of me wanted to tell him he’swrong, that I’m fine, that I don’t need rescuing. But another part of me—a quieter, more honest part—knew that he wasn’t entirely off the mark.

"I don't need saving," I finally said, my voice firmer than I felt.

Grant held my gaze, his expression unreadable. "I’m not trying to save you, Jane. I’m just offering you a chance to remember what it’s like to feel... something more." He brushed his thumb against the corner of my mouth. Then, even though no one was watching, even though we didn’t need to pretend, he bent down and kissed me. Soft. Full on the mouth. His fingers strayed to the hinge of my jaw, strong and sure, and although I knew better than to get my panties in a twist over a man who put the casual in one night stand, I found myself tilting my head back, opening myself up to him.

He made a low sound in the back of his throat and kissed me harder.

My bear rolled over, presenting herself, and I felt the way my body did the same: softening, molding myself to him.

This wasn't like the performative peck we'd shared earlier for the benefit of prying eyes. This was real, raw, and it ignited something in me I thought I might never find.

“Fuck,” he breathed, leaning back, eyes shining, beautifully dark. A beautiful woman could be criminal, but a beautiful man? He was punishment personified. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

I tugged him back against me. “Then don’t stop.”

GRANT

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