Still (Grip Book 2)(13)

"Why was she here?" I won't be distracted by the hard body crowding me,  by the delicious shape of his shoulders straining against his T-shirt.

"Hmmm?" Grip licks at the curve of my neck and shoulder, his tongue like rough velvet.

"Don't ‘hmmm' me, Grip." I slide away from his warm body, putting some  space between us. "It's like being in the Twilight Zone for me to come  home and find you with my mother, so cut the crap. What did she want?  Was it about me going to New York?"

I don't wait for his response.

"Dammit." I drop my bag by the couch and flop down, eyes trained on the ceiling. "Why can't she just let me live my life?"

Grip slides his hands into the pockets of the loose lounge pants that  hint at the sleek musculature of his legs. He settles on the couch  beside me and captures my hand, kissing the knuckles.

"She wasn't here about New York." His words emerge reluctant, low, sober.

I glance at his sharply hewn profile, noting the muscle ticking in his jaw.

"What's going on?"

His chest rises and falls with the deep breath he draws and expels before beginning.

"It's Parker."

I only have to hear that bastard's name to feel Parker's fingers probing  roughly between my legs again. I chew on my bottom lip and can almost  feel the sting of him biting me there, of him making me bleed. I ration a  slow breath through my nose, steadying myself as much for Grip's peace  of mind as my own pride. I don't want him to worry, though I know him  well enough to see concern in his dark eyes already.

"What about him?" I drop my head to Grip's shoulder and wait for his response.

After a beat of silence, he speaks.

"He's getting out."

My body tenses involuntarily and I turn my head to search his face.

"When?"

He gathers both my hands in his and turns slightly on the couch so he can see me, pushing my hair back and cupping my neck.

"Next week or so." Grip watches me closely. "We knew this would happen,  babe. He's got too much money and too many corrupt people in his pocket  to hold him for long."

I swallow, my muscles tautened with tension.

"I guess I hoped for a little more time to figure out a plan."

"You ain't figuring out nothing." One brow lifts over Grip's icy glance. "Son of a bitch is handled."         

     



 

"Handled?" A frown gathers on my face. "Handled how?"

"Apparently, his father has his own plans. He needs Parker free to make some merger happen. Shipping his ass off to Russia."

"Russia? Merger?" I shake my head, but all the pieces still don't make sense. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Ever heard of SiberTech?"

"Yeah." I nod, mentally rehearsing what I know, trying to make the  pieces fit. "Natasha Sukolov's family owns SiberTech. She went to high  school with us in New York, but their interests still lie mainly in  Russia. What does SiberTech have to do with Parker getting out?"

"They're using a marriage between Parker and Natasha to seal the deal."  Grip shrugs. "His dad found the right strings, pulled them, got Parker  off."

My fingers clench in my lap, anxiety twisting them. What if Parker comes  after Grip again? My mind is already seeking out solutions, loopholes,  anything to insulate Grip from whatever Parker might pull.

"Hey." Grip covers my balled fists with one big hand. "He's not touching you."

My eyes fly to meet his. God, we're a pair. We'd both do stupid shit to  protect each other. I hadn't thought of myself, only him, and he's only  thinking of me.

"We've been in constant communication with Parker's mom. She's pretty  badass," Grip says, admiration filtering into his expression. "With her  help, we got it all figured out."

"We?" I interject stiffly.

"Yeah, your mother and I," Grip continues smoothly, but no way he  doesn't consider how un-cool it was to do all of this without me. "Mrs.  Parker assures us her son is no threat. Her husband's sick of cleaning  up after him. He's got his foot so far up Parker's ass, he won't piss  without it being tracked. Parker will marry this Natasha chick, fly away  to Russia, run their business there, and leave us the hell alone."

The tense line of Grip's lips relaxes momentarily.

"And Mrs. Parker's got so much shit on her husband, it's in his interest  to keep Parker in check. We have layers of protection, babe. We've been  monitoring it for a few weeks. Now we know Parker's getting out of  prison, but also out of our lives for good."

"Why am I just now hearing about it?" I ask, irritation crowding out  concern or even relief. This is all good, but they were meeting without  me, discussing something that is completely my business behind my back.  "Why was my mother telling you and not me? Talking with you, not me?"

"Because I asked her to." Grip's voice brooks no argument, and the  arrogant brow he cocks dares me to say something. He must have forgotten  who he's dealing with-I always have something to say.

"You asked her to cut me out of something that so obviously concerns me?"

"I just wanted to know first, Bris." He pulls in that patient breath,  the one that says he's preparing himself in case I want to fight. "And  see what we were dealing with. I was gonna tell you once everything was  settled. Now it's settled."

"But-"

"I just needed to be sure. I wanted to be the first line of defense."

"In this situation or . . . ?" I let my raised eyebrows finish the question.

"In everything," he says decisively. "Do you have any idea how it felt to be locked up knowing you were even considering . . ."

His words thin to nothing, like he can't bring himself to voice what I  had planned to go through with. A deep swallow bobs the Adam's apple in  his throat.

Yes, I was going to fuck Parker to get Grip out of jail, and I would  have done it had he and my mother not intervened. It would have gutted  my soul, and maybe I would never have forgiven myself, but if I have to  choose between my pride, my supposed virtue, and Grip's freedom, well  that's not a choice at all.

"Don't think I'll let you wrap me in cotton, Grip," I assert. "I can take care of myself."

A scowl contracts the sharp lines of Grip's face.

"Fucking Parker for all the world to see? That's how you would take care  of yourself? And you think I'd want you to do something like that to  protect me?"

He pulls away to fold his arms across his chest, the muscles straining  against the sleeves of his plain white T-shirt. I feel the distance  instantly, not just between our bodies, but separating our perspectives.  This is a fight we never had. We talked some after he left jail, but we  were just so relieved to get rid of Parker, too happy to have dodged  the bullet and we didn't air this. Now it's in the air, and it's a cold  front that makes me shiver.         

     



 

"I didn't have a lot of options." I lay my palms flat against my bare  legs. "I won't apologize for being willing to do whatever it took to  protect you."

"Then don't ask me to apologize for doing the same. Look, just be glad  it's handled. It's over." He stands and heads toward the stairs. "I'm  gonna shower."

"We aren't done." I rush up the steps, close on his heels.

"Bris, later. We don't want to be late for our own party."

Your party. I don't correct him, but we both know this party could go on  without me. There are probably several people there who wish Grip would  go on without me.

He grabs his T-shirt from the back and yanks it over his head, tossing  it into the bathroom hamper. My steps stutter to a halt. My eyes cling  to his skin, stretched like dark velvet over the balletic play of  muscles in his back. He shucks the bottoms and drops those in the  hamper, too, unaware that my mouth has gone dry.

I know I had a point, but the flare of his powerful thighs, the tight  curve of his ass from a tapered waist-it scrambles my thoughts. When he  turns to the side to start the shower, his dick juts from the flat,  ridged topography of chest and abs. I lick my lips, lips that have more  than once been doused with the spicy-sweet taste of him in my mouth.

Why is he so damn fine? It's not fair.

"It's not fair," I mumble faintly. That jars me, reminds me I wasn't  done with this argument. "Parker manipulated me, Grip. It wasn't fair to  keep me out of it, and I want to make sure you don't do this again."

"Fuck fair." Grip steps into the shower. "I don't care if it's fair-I  care if you're safe. We can fight about this every day if you want. You  aren't leaving me over it, and I'm not leaving you, so what the fuck  ever. Agree to disagree. I'm done talking about it, Bris."

With that, he turns his back to me, reaching for the shower gel.

He's right. I'm not leaving him over it, but I don't want to resent him.  I want to trust him. I want him to trust me. That's what we have, and I  won't let him ruin it with his irrational overprotectiveness.