Page 47 of Saving the World and Other Bad Ideas (Grave Concerns 3)

And judging by Grant not taking his eyes off the painting, I’d say it had worked.

He wasn’t focused on what we needed to do, on what was coming, on our plan. He stared at the painting as if the meaning of everything were there, as if he could understand the world if he only studied it long enough. Hadn’t I done that too, though? How many times had I sat on the bench outside the fire station where I’d been left as a child, watching it like I’d come to some great epiphany?

Jameson wanted to get under Grant’s skin, and he’d achieved it.

But I wasn’t about to let Grant get lost so easily. I shifted around him, standing between him and the painting, before I set my hands on his chest and waited for him to look down at me.

Even when those green eyes locked on me, he was miles away.

“Pretty sure you mentioned being able to help me with these pants. If you can’t even manage that, what sort of mage are you?”

He didn’t move for a moment, and the shadows of his past crept over him like spiders. Then, after blinking slowly, he offered me a smile.

Arealsmile. It wasn’t mocking, it wasn’t hiding—it was like some gratitude hehadto get out right then.

So I took it, and when he grabbed my thighs, when he lifted me against him, I gave him everything I had right back.

He all but dropped me on the bed, and I scooted back to make room for him. He pulled his shirt off, giving me the look at all that tattooed skin that I’d craved. He didn’t have the physique of Hunter or Troy, but that had never stopped me from wanting him. He was different, lithe and dangerous in an entirely distinct way.

I shrugged off my leather jacket, then tossed it aside. The warm air of the room slid over my bare skin when my shirt joined the jacket, when I wanted to strip off everything to feel him.

It made me pause for a moment, thinking back. Had I ever been with Grant on his own?

I’d been with him with Hunter, but somehow, I hadn’t slept with Grant alone.

And why exactly did that get my nerves going?

He paused, his fingers on the button of his pants. “Second thoughts?”

Are they?

I shook my head. “I just realized I haven’t slept with you alone.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it lacked humor. “I don’t plan on doing any sleeping. Still, if you don’t want to, if it’s weird without Hunter…”

The statement hung between us, him giving me an out, as if he thought Hunter was the only reason that I’d accepted him. And despite the way he hid, the way he was so hard to read some of the time, I could see right through his statement.

He worried that he wasn’t enough by himself, that he’d somehow snuck into a relationship on Hunter’s heels, as though maybe on his own, I wouldn’t want him, that he wasn’t enough.

Which was a stupid thought, really.

Hunter was a lot of things—more than a few of them insults—but he was hardly the glue that kept Grant with me.

I rose to my knees and slipped my fingers behind the button of his jeans, beside his fingers, then tugged him a step closer so he stood just before the bed. I could have told him I wanted him, that it had nothing to do with Hunter, that Grant and I had our own bond between just us, but Grant was a stubborn asshole who wouldn’t listen.

However, I didn’t mind giving him a more hands-on lesson about how I felt.

I flicked the button of his jeans, then pulled the zipper down. I wish I could say I was sultry about it, that I was like the strippers he’d talked about in hell—sexy and totally controlled.

Instead, I had a feeling I looked more like I did at two in the morning when I broke into that bag of cookies I liked to hide away on top of my fridge. Even knowing that didn’t stop me, however. Grant had seen me through a lot, so if he knew that I removed his pants with the same excitement normally reserved for sugary treats, well, I was fine with that.

He groaned when I yanked his jeans down, when the action gave me access to his cock, since Grant was exactly the sort of man to forgo underwear. He was hard, his shaft resting against his lower stomach and allmine.

I wasn’t a possessive person, but something about this moment made me want to claim him, even more so because he seemed uncertain of whether I’d want that. I wrapped my hand around him, the heat of his cock searing.

The sound he let out was anything but controlled. It was deep and desperate and made me wish we’d already worked at getting those absurdly tight pants off me.

He slid his fingers through my hair, a reverent touch, as if he couldn’t believe I’d let him. I rewarded him by dragging my tongue up his shaft, tracing the thick vein, teasing where the foreskin gathered. He tasted of fire and lightning, and it lingered on my tongue as I pressed kisses along his length.

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