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I collapse onto Grant’s chest, with the salty taste of Trip still on my tongue. Tears roll down my face. Not from pain, but I think shock. I can hardly process what we did and how good it felt. How’d they know we’d fit like that? That had been… wow.
I don’t know who moves, or what happens next. But we all slowly disengage. I drift along in a haze of shock and pleasure. Soft voices carry around the room as they converse, but I don’t pay any mind. A warm wet cloth cleans me up and a glass of water is pushed into my hands.
The last thing I remember before sleep consumes me, are three different pairs of lips pressing against my skin.
Thirty
Idon’t want to wake up the next morning.
Cozy and warm, I could probably fall back to sleep without any issue. But the soft dinging coming from someone’s phone nearby is driving me crazy. It started off as background noise, but the longer I lay here, the more I notice it. It doesn’t help that someone is typing on their phone. I can hear the soft pad of their fingers hitting the screen non-stop.
With a huff of annoyance, I throw the covers off my head and sit up. Huh, I’m wearing someone else’s shirt.
Grant looks over at me. With his back propped against a pillow that’s up against the bedpost, his shirt off and hair in disarray, he looks… scrumptious. I lick my dry lips and pull my gaze away before I’m tempted to lean up and kiss him. I lower my head, ready to will myself back to sleep.
I growl into my pillow before sighing. “Who’s texting you this early?”
“Jason.”
“Why can’t he just come in here and talk to you like a normal human being?” I complain into my pillow.
“He and Trip left a few hours ago to help with an issue on Dad’s ranch.”
They left? Why didn’t I hear them leave? A few minutes pass in silence. Grant must’ve turned the sound off his phone because I can’t hear the dinging anymore. I can, however, still hear his fingers, and for some reason it’s annoying me. Giving up on trying to go back to sleep, I roll to my side toward Grant.
“What happened at the ranch?”
Grant glances down at me before going back to typing. “Some asshole thought he could steal a horse from the stable. All he managed to do was cause a few horses to escape in a panic. A few ran into the fence and hurt themselves. Trip’s helping repair the fence and Jason is helping his parents tend to the horses.”
I frown. The fog from sleep still clouds my head so it takes me a moment to process everything.
“Did whoever was trying to steal a horse know it was your dad’s ranch?”
“Yup, he was just an idiot.” Grant drops his phone into his lap and rubs the sleep from his eyes. “He’s lucky the ranch hands got to him before my dad, or it would have ended up a whole lot different than the guy being arrested.”
I snort. “Your dad wouldn’t have the guy arrested? Why don’t I believe that?”
“No, he wouldn’t have,” Grant nods once, his voice dropping softly. “He probably would have killed the guy.”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t realize you were such a dramatic person, Grant.”
He looks down at me, his jaw clenching tight. “You don’t know my dad, dollface. Trust me when I say he’s not above killing to make a point.”
A shiver of unease creeps down my spine at the haunted look in Grant’s eyes. I sit up slowly, not taking my eyes off him.
“Why does it sound like you know this firsthand?” My voice comes out as a whisper.
Grant just stares at me. His pupils narrow on my face, and his hands slide under the comforter.
“Grant… has your father killed someone before?”
His head jerks away, his gaze landing on the window. “I’m not dragging you into this. Just trust me when I say my dad isn’t a good guy.”
Trepidation weaves down my spine. What has Grant seen? It must’ve been bad. Part of me wants to ask. Of course, I know better than that. Not only would Grant probably not tell me, but having the knowledge that someone you love is capable of something horrendous… He must be carrying a large burden. I can almost relate. At least a little. Pianna has to carry around the fact that I killed her ex. Her phone call from the other morning is just proof that my actions still haunt her.
Without thinking, my hands search for Grant’s under the comforter. When my fingers brush against his knuckles, I grab hold of it and squeeze gently. I pull it free from beneath the blanket and bring it to my lips. Grant’s gaze falls to where we’re joined. Then, slowly, his eyes lift to my face.
“It’s ok, Grant. Everything is going to be ok,” I whisper to him.
