Page 193 of Built to Fall
He gives me an awestruck look. “Anything.”
That’s when I stand on my tiptoes. Even in heels I still need an extra boost to get my mouth to his ear. “What if I don’t want to get drunk?” I ask quietly, my lips grazing the shell of his ear.
Grant turns his head just enough to give me a confused look. “Why wouldn’t you?”
I smirk. “Because I want you to fuck me tonight.”
The face of confusion quickly morphs into one of hot amusement. Unlike me, Grant is so used to talking about sex and any public displays of attraction that he hardly cares if anyone overhears. Being with him has made me more comfortable talking about that kind of stuff.
Apparently it’s easier to talk about your sex life when it’s actuallygood.
“I want you to do what you want,” he still tells me, despite the arousal flaring through his eyes. “You don’t have to factor me into your decision to have fun tonight.”
He’s completely wrong about that fact. Grant is easily my favorite person. It would be nearly impossible for him not to be a factor.
We’ve been officially dating for over two months, but I’ve been sleeping in his bed, building a friendship with him, for nearly six. He’s become quintessential in my life. My Ariadne’s thread.
“I’m factoring you into my life in the same manner I do any other day,” I tell him honestly, picking up a Solo Cup in the kitchen.
He reaches into the fridge, grabbing a can of Diet Coke. He hands it to me, and I pour it in my cup, but then when I reach for one of the vodka bottles on the counter, he stops me.
“Oh, so you don’t want me to drinkat all?” I tease, knowing that can’t be the case.
Grant shakes his head, pulling open a cabinet overhead and handing me a brand new bottle of Grey Goose.
“Better than Smirnoff?” he asks with a knowing grin.
How quickly I take it from his hands and pour a shot or two into my cup should tell him all he needs to know.
At the same time, Kara enters the kitchen frantically. I don’t even think she notices we’re in here until my eyes lock on hers. Red, wide, blown pupils.
If I were more expressive, I’d be smacking a palm over my face right about now. I can see what is about to transpire play through my mind like a twisted movie preview.
And everything in my body is screaming at me to stop it from happening, to somehow help the situation. But it’s useless.
The damage is already done.
“Holy. Shit.” I have no idea what else to say.
Grant furrows his brows at me, not seeing what I have. I hope he never does. If I could protect him from this, I would.
But I know what’s coming, and it feels like being tied down to the tracks knowing a train is roaring toward you.
I recognize it in his face the moment he notices Kara behind him. He’s half turned away from me, but the way his eyes narrow and his jaw stiffens says enough.
“What the fuck is in your hand?” is the first thing he says, noticing something even I hadn’t.
That doesn’t happen very often.
My eyes train on the small bag in her hand. It’s pretty clear what it is based on the white powder. Hell, just her physicalappearance was enough to cue me in, let alone the fact that she’s openly carrying drugs around.
If Kara’s eyes could have widened any more, they would have. I’ve already caught her red-handed on Xanax.
This is different, though. This is Grant she’s coming face-to-face with. He is at the center of how this could unfold. He understands all the consequences.
Honestly, Ihopeit makes her feel worse. Maybe it will smack some sense into her.
“Grant—”
