Page 48 of Grant’s Flame

He grabbed my hand, using the grip to move in and then press his body completely against mine. My breath stuttered. My heartbeat careened. My skin was hot and sensitive, aware of every inch where he was hard yet slippery against me. With my free hand, I stroked up to his shoulder, hyperaware of how I was dripping all over him. How I instantly yet completely yearned to be dripping around other parts of him…

He didn’t stop pushing in.

He kept going, continuing closer and harder, until I was bent backward, over the spa’s outside edge. When my torso was all but splayed flat, he leaned down with me until he could speak right beside my ear. “What’s this? Jealousy from the formidable Rio Katrina? My, my. I didn’t think that was possible.”

He stood up tall, and I quickly followed suit, trying to push him back with my free hand so I could catch my breath. The action was pointless because he easily captured my other wrist and then held them between us, even while I tossed my head back and stabbed him with a cutting laugh.

“Are you kidding? With a bedpost that has as many notches as yours? I think a girl would have to be numb not to feel at least a twinge of the stuff.”

I yanked my arms back, trying to get free from his grip, but got nowhere. Grant tightened his hold, curling his hands in so mine ended up against the sculpted slabs of his pecs, and I could feel the air he pushed in and out of his flaring nostrils.

Instantly, anxiety clawed at my chest, but I tried to tamp it down. I knew Grant was playing around, and if I told him to stop, he would. At some point, though, I was going to have to get over this nonsense about him holding my hands or arms without flashing back to when he told me about Sean’s accident.

“A twinge, huh?” His gaze intensified, belying distinct energy. Aroused force. I swore I could even smell it on him, and I wasn’t surprised. The man had never been coy about his need to be in charge, and I’d been increasingly happy to let him try it with me. After his long and stressful dunk back into the Sebastian Shark tank, it made sense that he craved a default dive back to the waters where he controlled all the tides.

See? He was aroused. I was aroused. Everyone was having fun here.

“Yeah, just a little.” I went for a careless shrug, but I knew he wasn’t buying it, so I really poured it on. “You know…a tiny, itty-bitty bit. Not too much, though. I mean…” I pulled at his hold again, gritting my teeth in frustration when he wouldn’t budge. “I wouldn’t want your head to swell up even more.”

I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t take it.

Not. For. One. More. Second.

“Let go,” I said through gritted teeth and made one last feeble attempt to pull my arms—my hands—hell, I didn’t even know anymore—free from Grant’s grasp while my entire body began to quake. Next would be a blood-curdling shriek if he didn’t pick up on the way I was unraveling.

Thank God he did, though.

“Blaze.” He nearly choked my name and dropped my hands simultaneously. Then he stepped toward me at the exact same time I stepped back.

“No. Stop.”

How had we gotten to the Inglewood prep kitchen?

I swung my head from side to side. No. No. I tried to calm myself. We were still on the yacht. I looked around frantically, taking in details of my surroundings. Yes! We were definitely on the deck of the yacht.

But that sound…my God…what was that sound?

I could feel Grant’s stare boring into the side of my face, so I shifted my stance to square off with him. All the while, a thousand different thoughts banged around inside my head. Like dirty pigeons in a city park, all taking flight in unison after a wayward child escaped his mother’s grasp to terrorize them. Cacophonous, leathery wings flapped in thirty-six different directions inside my skull—all at the same time. I had to close my eyes and try to make the clamoring riot stop. With fingers pressed to my temples and eyes squeezed shut, I hummed as loudly as possible to drown out the sound.

“God! That sound—make it stop!” I looked to my hero for assistance, but he was frozen in horror too. He usually fixed everything else, but he just stood staring at me in panic.

“Make it stop!” I shouted again, gripping feverishly at my ears.

“Rio!” Grant shouted while trying to wrestle my hands down to my sides. What had started as a simple stress stopper, with my fingertips on the pressure points at my temples, had morphed into gauging at my hairline with my fingernails. Droplets of blood trickled down my face, under my jaw, and continued down my neck.

“Rio, stop! You’re hurting yourself!” Grant begged.

“Make it stop!” I shouted blindly. My vision was blurry, and that damn noise!

“Baby, please! Look at me! Open your eyes and see me.”

When I finally followed his commands, nothing made sense. The panicked look on his face was the most confusing of all. Jesus Christ, what just happened? My head was throbbing and hurting so badly. I carefully touched the source of the stinging sensation, only to pull back bloodstained fingertips. I shot my questioning look to Grant, but he was frozen with shock and dismay. He stared at me like I was a complete lunatic. And I’d seen the look before. I was definitely interpreting it correctly.

News flash: It never got easier.

But when the man you loved looked at you that way, a piece of your heart actually shattered.