Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“We’re still her family.”
We. He says it so casually it warms my heart.
I smile.
“If she can see it’s coming from a place of love, maybe she’ll stop being defensive and listen. If not for her own sake or for yours, then for your ma’s. Can’t imagine Angela would want this at all,” he says.
“No. Then again, Mom would want her to be happy, even if ‘happy’ doesn’t look like what we’d expect...” I idly stroke my fingers along Grant’s throat. “I’m trying not to judge. I just... I don’t think she’s actually happy right now. Not if she was in her right mind. How could she be when she knows—she knows—” I stop, the words dying on my tongue.
“It’s more distant for her, not like how it was for us. Don’t forget that. She was so young when Ethan disappeared.”
Ever the voice of reason.
I want to hate it, but I can’t.
Suddenly, Grant shifts his hold, gathering me into his lap and pulling me across the small, awkward space between us until I’m settled on his thighs. I curl up there, tucking myself snugly against his body while he rests his chin on top of my head.
“The three of us were fucking inseparable. Ros probably felt like an outsider when she’s so much younger and Ethan’s memory isn’t as strong. Not to mention how much we all tried to shelter her from the worst of it, from our suspicions.”
“Yeah, but after all the rumors, and what happened with the Arrendells and Celeste Graves...”
“I know. That might be what’s behind it. Ros has a rebellious streak under that shy girl surface. Maybe dating Aleksander was a way to defy the rumors or face them in her own way after she got sick of all the whispers and nosy-ass glances. Then she got pulled in deeper than she could handle.”
“I could see that,” I say wryly, curling my hand in his uniform shirt. “This feels weird, you know.”
“What? My shirt?”
I smile faintly, tapping one of his glossy buttons. “Sitting in your lap like a little girl asking Santa Cop for presents.”
Grant’s snort sounds suspiciously like a repressed laugh.
“Don’t even start that Daddy mess. You used to—”
“What? Call you ‘Dad’ every time we got in a fight because you’d start snarling at me to stop following you and Ethan everywhere and getting in the way?”
“It wasn’t getting in the way,” he growls. “It was getting hurt. We were doing all kinds of dangerous shit. Dicking around the hills too close to Jacobin property, setting off contraband fireworks, drinking our weight in beer like every dumbass kid. Too dangerous for a little girl still in high school.”
“Just dangerous enough to be interesting to an adventurous, enterprising little girl,” I correct and push myself up to look at him, touching my finger to his nose. “Don’t you know the more you warned me away, the more I wanted to go?”
Another snort.
Disgruntled, surly.
See? Big old man-bear.
“You and your hero worship, wanting to be everywhere Ethan was,” he rumbles.
“Not just Ethan.” I lean in and press my nose to his, replacing my finger. “I wanted to be everywhere you were, idiot.”
“Whatever. I think you just liked poking the bear.”
I grin. “Why not when he made such funny noises?”
Grant obliges me with a funny noise right now, an overly dramatic growl, and I laugh.
Guess it’s easier to laugh like this, cradled up in him with his scent surrounding me and his arms wrapped up so tight, his thick beard scratching my cheek.
“Will you stop being annoyed with me if I kiss you?” I offer.
“Who says I was annoyed at all?” he counters, tilting his head and brushing his lips across mine in a tease that makes my blood sing. “Think I’ll take that kiss. Call it Butterfly insurance against future irritation.”
“Mm, yes, you’re so certain I’m going to annoy you again?”
“Yes,” he deadpans, and I scowl, trying to force down a laugh as I shove against his chest.
“No kiss for you!”
“Too damn late.” And with one firm arm around my waist, he swings me back in, refusing to let me escape.
Not that I want to.
No way.
Not when, the second he pulls me against his chest, his lips descend, slanting hard against my mouth and erasing all sense, all reason, all worry from my mind.
Holy hell.
I’ve never been kissed like this.
Every man who tried fell a mile short and a day late.
Every man who wasn’t Grant kissed like I was an object for his own selfish purpose.
Like they were checking off this laundry list inside their minds, all the things a man had to do in a specific order to be this cool sex god, until it felt mechanical and bloodless.
But Grant kisses like he’s so consumed by me he can’t do anything else.
He kisses like he wants my soul, the best and worst of me.