Page 41 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

Safe, my ass. Grant burrowed beneath my skin and infected my life with his presence. I’m already ruined. I’ll be damned if I stay when it’s blatantly obvious he doesn’t want me.

Fuck him.

Halfway to the door, a firm arm catches me by the waist. Panic and relief flood me in equal measure, but my brain riots against his hold.

“Let me go.”

I struggle to pry his hand from where his fingers dig into my side. Twisting and pulling, I try to wrench myself from his grip, but he snares me with his other hand. I’m trapped.

“Quinn. Stop.”

“No. You don’t want me here. I’m leaving.” I flail my arms and rear back, away from his solid frame.

Grant catches my arms in his hands and backs me to the wall beside the door. His body crowds me, his knee pressing between my thighs, his hands pinning mine to the faded blue wallpaper. The scent of his soap and the heat of his body surround me, consume me. I bite back a whimper at the contact. His touch isn’t rough, but it’s firm. It’s more comforting than it should be. But I can’t concede. I won’t. He wants me gone? I’ll go.

When I push against his hold, he leans into me instead of tightening his grip. His heat pulls me in, lulling me into compliance. The rough pad of his thumb caresses the inside of my wrist, and I stifle a whimper.

“Breathe, Quinn.” His gentle caress seeps into that long-deprived piece of my soul.

I close my eyes, trying to resist how good it feels, how it tames the beast raging inside me. My inhaled breath shutters, like I can’t get it out past the ball of pain in my chest. When I release it, my tension goes with the exhale. I sink into his hold.

“Good girl.”

My heart flutters at the praise, and I soak it up with his caress, like a flower kept in the dark for years suddenly exposed to the bright sunshine.

He flattens the back of my hands against the wall and traces his fingertips over the sensitive skin of my palms. “Take another deep breath.”

I obey, desperate for more of the feeling expanding inside me. I can’t name it, I can’t explain it. It swells and fills the spaces inside me that have been barren for too long. A brazen part of my mind tells me to fight against this, to steel myself against this fleeting rush. But I melt against him. I want more than he’s offering.

When I meet his gaze, I’m struck by the complexity of his expression. Dark eyes wide and vulnerable. Full lips parted. Skin flushed.

My tongue darts over my dry lips. “Grant, please...”

Let me go.It’s what I want to say but not what it sounds like. That’s not what my body demands. It wants everything he has to offer and more. It craves the chance to fill the voids, to embrace the moment.

I want him, all of him.

I close my hands around his fingertips, gently caressing them in my limited capacity. He relinquishes his hold on my wrists to slide his hands over my arms before tracing along my throat. His touch burns, leaving heat in its wake.

There’s nothing stopping me from arching into his touch. My body curves into his, craving contact. I want his hands everywhere.

“Quinn.” The reverent murmur of my name from his lips snaps what remains of my restraint.

I throw myself against him, my fingers tangling in his hair, and I drag him to me, closing the minuscule gap between us. My lips brush his.

It’s the only encouragement he needs to crash through the invisible barrier separating us. With a moan, his lips part, and I’m lost in him.

Grant cradles my face in his hands, his fingertips brushing my earlobes. I pull myself closer, needing more contact. More of him.

He tastes like sin and salvation with a bite of wintergreen. I delve deeper, tasting him completely. The warm strength of his lips against mine leaves me breathless.

Then he’s gone. He rests his head against mine for a long moment.

My racing heart pounds with uncertainty. Doesn’t he want me? What’s wrong?

I swallow the knot in my throat as he leans back, his eyes leveling with mine. He caresses my jaw and hooks his finger beneath my chin, forcing me to hold his gaze.

“Tell me you want this, Quinn.” He licks his kiss-bruised lips. “This is your chance to walk away.”

---