Chapter 39
My soda falls from my hand, spilling all over the floor as I scream and spin around. I already know it’s not Lonnie—unless his voice has changed that much.
And I’m right. I collapse against the door, breathless shock winding and twisting in my veins.
“Grant?”
He’s standing a few feet away, and God, he's never looked so good. Even in this state, and it's quite the state.
Black hair in a mess, with no product to give it shape or hold. A thick, inky swoop rests on his forehead. The rest of it flat and dull, lying smooth against his skull. The midnight color draws my vision elsewhere. Ocean pupils seem weak as blackish blue rings hang underneath his gaze. I doubt he's slept, much like me. He's also failed to shave, as thick wisps of coarse hair smatter across his jawline and down to his neck. The finale being his bandaged shoulder, and I know he’s in no condition to be in this room.
“How did you even find me?” My question is rattled. “Have you even been discharged yet?”
“You ever heard of an IP address? I’ve been tracking your work email, hoping you’d use it. And who gives a fuck about me being discharged.” He’s snippy, but not loud. He’s never loud. He pockets his hands in wrinkled black dress slacks and scowls. “You discharged me the moment you walked out of that hospital. Do you know how sick I’ve been trying to find you?”
Of course, he would go insane. I would too if he’d done the same. Shame bubbles under my skin, and I turn away. “I’m sorry, Grant. I…”
“You what? You didn’t think I would tear the world apart to look for you?” He scoffs, and I feel the hurt laced underneath it. “I don’t know what I hated more. Waking up to you being gone or that fucking note.”
Fuck me. I should have been done with Lonnie by now. Instead, I’ve driven Grant crazy.
“I thought I’d be home by now.” I stare at the floor in frustration and frown as my voice falls to a mumble. “I just don’t know why he’s taking so long.”
“What?” A sharp breath sucks in. “Olivia…? Who is taking so long?”
I look up at Grant and a storm cyclones inside of me of hurt, anger, grief, a craving for real freedom—the emotions whirlpooling at the bottom of my stomach until I almost feel dizzy.
“Your shooting,” I say in a shaky breath. “It wasn’t the Grimskis.”
His brows lower in a look of uncertainty. “It has to be. There’s—”
“It was Lonnie, and I have the email to prove it.”
My words bring in a silence so thick that the clock ticking on the wall sounds like a bomb.
Grant’s wide chest expands as his face darkens. “And you’re here…?”
“To kill him,” I say, my lips quivering. They twitch so hard it’s causing my chest to jerk.
Grant gasps, stumbling back.
“I’m going to kill Lonnie for what he did to you. For what he did to me. And I’m going to put an end to this.”
Surprise makes his chest lurch as he strains for air. “You’d kill for me?”
“I would!” I cry, and my fists clench as the tremors flood from my chest into the rest of my body, and his frame blurs as tears well. “I will. I’ll kill anyone who tries to stop us or come between us, Grant. You said you’d let the world run red if it meant making me feel loved and safe. Well, I’m here to tell you that I’ll make the world turn red if anyone tries to put an end to us. We’re meant to be together, and I won’t let a single circumstance tell us otherwise. So, yes … I will kill. For you. For us. I’ll kill as many times as I have to.”
One, two, three strides, and Grant is standing over me, pushing my back against the door, caging me in with his arms. His breaths are thick and heavy as he cups my face with his hands and forces my head back. My heart flutters at the base of my neck as a tear slides down my face.
“No one’s ever offered to kill for me before. I’ve never meant that much to anyone. Not ever.” His jaw clenches as he whisks away the tear with the pad of his thumb and lowers his head. “Do you have any fucking idea how much I love you, Olivia?”
“I know how much I love you.” I lick my lips, parched and desperate for Grant. “How about you show me how much?” The words burn my throat.
He growls, and then his lips meet mine to devour me, and what happens is more than just a kiss. Grant steals my soul in a rough and demanding manner as he weaves his fingers through my hair and clenches his fingers to create a vise-like hold.
A tinge of pain bites at the roots of my scalp, but it feels so good that I whimper and grind against his already hardening cock. I can’t breathe while Grant dips his tongue into my mouth and runs it across my teeth. The silk collar of his shirt brushes against my fingertips, and instantly, I wring my hands into the starched corners, dragging him closer to me.
I want Grant so fused to my body that his pulse feels like my own, that I cease to know whose body is whose. A small, grateful smile simpers across my lips when he collapses his full weight onto me and the door groans in response.
He wedges his knee between my legs, forcing them wider apart. When he shifts back and forth, the most beautiful pressure ripples through my clit, and my body jerks in ecstasy before slumping against the door.
A tremor wracks his body, and he gropes my breast with his large hand, kneading it before rolling the nipple between his thumb and finger. As I mewl, his warm breath coasts against my mouth as he chuckles, breaking our kiss for a moment.
We pant as he stares deep into my eyes, keeping me firmly pinned to the door.
He takes a rough swallow and then arches a brow. “Let me handle the killing. One of us needs to have bloodless hands—let it be you, since it’s too late for me.”
I nod, the huffs of my aroused breaths roaring in my ears.
“Now…” Warmth seeps from his body as he takes a deep breath, his face tense. “Kindly allow me to fuck the woman I love.”
“Please do.” The words have only just left me when a tearing sound echoes through the room. A rush of cold air hits my torso, and my nipples pebble at the sudden influx of exposure and temperature. He’s shredded the front of my sweatshirt in half—fuck, he’s sexy. I could live a thousand lifetimes and never find another Grant.
My eyes are rolling to the back of my head as he stoops down, closes his lips over my right nipple, and stretches my sweatpants down to my knees. With urgency, he uses his other free hand to shove my panties to the side. A deep, lost groan scrapes out of my throat as he shoves a finger in me to the first knuckle and pumps.
“Ho—” I claw at his back. “Grant—”
“We haven’t had much foreplay. Two more fingers, darling.” His words breeze across my tit. “Then you’re ready for my cock.”
My knees buckle as he gently bites down on my other nipple while cramming another finger inside. Each pump he makes prepares me for him, and I hiss out his name between curses and mewls.
By the time his third finger plunges inside, sweat clings to the back of my neck, and there’s so much slick between my thighs that his thrusts are sloppy.
The deep groan of approval he makes while dragging his tongue from my breast up to my ear has my head thrashing against the door, and the push and pulls of my blood roaring in my ear drums.
“I think you’re ready for me,” he groans, pulling out.
I open my eyes to find the most sinful sight—Grant—his eyes brimming with a dark smirk as he licks his fingers clean and moans. “You taste sweet, darling.” His mouth doesn’t miss an angle or a knuckle, savoring my flavor as he holds my eye contact.
Still licking one hand, he loosens his belt and pops the button open with his thumb. When he drags his zipper down, I squirm and flick my eyes to watch him free his cock.
About time too.
I’ve felt it straining against his pants this whole time. I swallow hard as I observe it bob up and down between his thighs.
My already elevated pulse spikes when he stoops down, hooks his arms under my knees and picks me up with ease. I wrap my legs around his back and toss my hands up over my head. The door grinds at my spine, but I don’t care—he’s lined up, the head of his cock teasing my drenched opening, and already he feels like sub-spatial beauty.
“I love you, Olivia,” he growls into my ear right before thrusting into me.
I muffle a scream, my front arching into him. His thrusts repeat at a manic beat, the door creaking, threatening to splinter in half at Grant’s pace. Every window shaking and vibrating. Not just my windows—I bet it’s every person’s windows on the floors above and below.
Amid the groans, creaks, and shouting, I distantly hear the shuffle of footsteps above us, and the loud questions raining down.
“You hear that?” A deep voice asks.
“Sure do,” replies an even lower one. “Someone’s fucking.”