Page 12 of Tales You Win (Grim & Beast Duet 1)

“Not happening!” he snaps. “Now move your feet before I move them for you.”

“Seriously, Beast, what gives?” I ask in frustration.

Yes, I know he works for my dad and there’s certain expectations, but would it really kill him to hang out with me for a bit? I might not be his type, but I’m pretty fun to be around when given the chance. We could at least be friends. I don’t have many of them and could use some more.

“Princess.”

Another growl, another warning.

Everything about this whole situation is screaming for me to take a step back. He’s angry, that much is obvious, and I should be wary.

But I’m not.

I know he’s not going to hurt me and that makes me bold.

We glare at each other, and with every intake of breath I seem to edge closer to him until Christina Aguilera’s voice is drowned out by the rushing and thumping of my pulse beating loudly in my ear.

“Well?” I prompt, my heart galloping as he releases his grip on my arm and his palms find their way to my hips. His hands are so huge that they practically meet over the bottom of my spine. For long, agonising moments he just stares down at me, an unreadable expression on his face, and whilst I stopped gyrating like a stripper the second he flipped me around to face him, I’m still swaying from side to sidewantingto dance with him, daring him to dance with me too.

“We should go,” he says, but to my surprise he mirrors my movements and the steady thump of my heart misses a beat as he pulls me even closer. It’s all I can do not to press my lips against his throat and slide my tongue across his tattooed skin, but I do take the opportunity to breathe him in, his masculine scent of whisky, sweat and leather stirring a longing deep within me.

“Dance with me,” I whisper against the column of his neck, and this time he doesn’t deny me.

Heat builds beneath my skin where our bodies touch, and in the places Iwishhe would touch, and for a few blissful moments we leave behind our personas and just move fluidly together. Right here in the middle of a packed dance floor, in this grimy basement club, he’s no longer Beast, the man who kills for Carter, and I’m no longer Grim, the woman who is destined to take her father’s place. In this moment we’re just us. Just two people attracted to one another. Two people who might belong to each other if the world we live in didn’t get in the way.

And it feelsgood.

My cheek presses against his chest, my fingers curling into his shirt tightly as he wraps his arms around me in an embrace that simultaneously gives me strength and protects me from all the things that could hurt me, of which there are many.

I’m not used to feeling safe, but in his arms I do.

“Princess…” he murmurs, cupping the back of my head, his fingers curling into my hair and tugging gently. He looks down at me, a fierce kind of agony in his eyes as he lowers his head and presses his lips against my ear. “It’s time to go.”

“I just want…” I reply, a little breathlessly if I’m honest. I’ve never been a woman to pant after a man, but Beast is theonlyman who’s ever made me lightheaded and a little crazy. There’s no way I’d let anyone else get to me the way he does.

“You just want, what…?” he asks, his voice low, gruff, as his hands slide down my back and his fingers curl around the waistband of my jean shorts, pulling the material so tight that I can feel the seam between my legs rubbing against my clit.

“I just want…” I gasp, unable to finish the sentence.

You.

My voice trails off as he pulls me closer, his whole body a wall of muscle and masculinity that scrambles my head and makes my knees weak. The pull he has over me is like nothing I’ve felt before. It’s an attraction, yes, but it’s also so much more than that, and it’s terrifying because for all my flirtation, I’m not exactly experienced. Not that he needs to know. I would rather cut out my own tongue than admit that.

“I know, Princess. Iknow,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over the top of my head as he speaks.

“Just a little longer...” I say, but it comes out like a plea, and I hate myself for it.

Knowing that I want him is one thing, but being vulnerable like this is quite another. Maybe it’s the tone of my voice, or maybe it’s the sudden realisation that he’s gotten way too close to his boss’s daughter, but either way he stiffens and takes a step back.

“Carter wants you home, so home it is,” he says, then picks me up and chucks me over his shoulder, breaking the spell and reminding me that I don’t live in a fairy tale, but in the real world with men who wear tattoos like armour and have no problem throwing a woman over their shoulder when the mood takes them.

* * *

“You’re a dick, you know that?”I say, still fuming as he parks the car outside my house half an hour later. “Putting me over your shoulder like some caveman. It was embarrassing!”

“I’m just doing my job, Princess,” he replies, but I can’t help but notice the heaviness of the sigh that follows. He makes no move to get out of the car, so neither do I.

“What is it?” I ask him.

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