by K. A. Linde
And neither is she obviously.
Fair point. Nice move, Shelby.
“Grant came over and knocked on the door until I answered. We kissed, we talked some, and then I made him leave.” I left out the part about the record label and the second kiss. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to talk about the former, and I kind of wanted to keep the latter to myself.
They all looked stunned. What did I say?
“He just left?” Gabi whispered.
“Well, he asked to see me again, but yeah, he just left.”
“Okay, you’re like a Grant McDermott virgin, so let me fill you in,” Cheyenne said.
I scrunched my eyebrows together. “Aren’t all of you Grant virgins?”
“We follow him around to his shows. We know him and how he operates,” Shelby explained.
“How he operates?” I asked. I thought I knew where this was going, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Grant can have whoever he wants. Yeah, he plays guitar and sings, but there’s more than that. He has a presence onstage, and if you had paid attention the night we went, you’d understand.”
“Okay,” I drawled the word out.
“But he doesn’t date, Aribel,” Gabi said.
“Right!” Cheyenne cried. “He doesn’t date. He doesn’t just kiss a girl and leave unless he’s not interested, and he must be interested because he never leaves a show empty-handed.”
“Are you supposed to be endearing him to me? That sounds disgusting.”
“Okay, maybe a little, but he drove over an hour to see you. After just a kiss, he asked to see you again and then left. Grant McDermott is not acting like himself with you, Aribel.”
“So?”
“So, are you going to see him again?” Shelby asked earnestly.
“Everyone in New Jersey might die if Grant starts dating,” Gabi murmured to herself.
“Look, I’m not dating Grant. If anything, you have all convinced me that I shouldn’t see him anymore.”
“But you want to,” Cheyenne said with a wink.
Maybe I did.
It was the strangest feeling in the world, but I kind of did want to see Grant again. He hadn’t been so bad once he actually stopped and talked to me about something other than getting in my pants. And that last kiss.
I shivered slightly at the thought of it. Kisses like that made me lose touch with reality, and I knew that if I saw Grant again…I wasn’t going to stop him from kissing me.
Luckily, no one had questioned my motives for driving back to Jersey to get ass when plenty of women who’d been more than willing were at the venue. I’d never been happier for my manwhore title than at that moment.
But the only way that I could escape a repeat appearance at her place had been to get the fuck out of Jersey, so I’d packed my shit and gotten the hell out of there. On the ten-hour drive to Knoxville to visit Sydney, I’d done nothing but convince myself that I’d been an idiot for storming into Ari’s house after the show.
A week away had been exactly what I needed. I’d needed to forget Ari and blow off some steam after the disappointment from the label. Then, when I’d come back, I’d fallen seamlessly into the daily band rehearsals and the routine we’d perfected since we formed the band. I had been glad to be back, and it had seemed the guys were too.
Miller had written a new song during the break, and we had been messing around with it all week. He’d wanted to open with it, but I’d thought it would do better as a closer.
Since we were playing at The Ivy League, and the regulars loved our normal opener, “Hemorrhage,” everyone agreed to add the new song to the end. After we put together the set list and ran through the entire show a few times, we packed up the van to head out to the show.
After the show, I’d have to decide what to do about Ari. I’d thought that getting away and sinking myself into my music would make me forget her, but she was still on my mind two weeks later. I’d wanted to go see her since I got back, but I hadn’t let myself. I hadn’t cared that she thought I was stalking her, but I didn’t want her to think that I was more attached than I was. No matter how much I’d thought about her since I walked out of her place.
On Saturday night, I slung my guitar over my shoulder and walked into The Ivy League. The bar already had a bunch of girls crowding the counter, and when I walked inside, a few pointed in my direction and giggled. I shot them a smile, and that only made them giggle more.
By the time we were finished setting up, the bar was full of students crawling into the League after classes had ended. I usually saw a number of the same faces over and over again at our shows. I hated to admit that I missed the larger crowds from the city. Nothing would compare to the energy from our home show, but I loved when I could look out across the room and not be able to calculate how many people were in attendance.
The guys got into position just as the lights dimmed. I walked onto the stage last, and applause hit me from all sides.
I smiled confidently, owning the stage, and then stepped up to the mic. “What’s up, Leaguers? I’m Grant McDermott, and we’re ContraBand.” I waited until the screams died down before speaking again. “It’s fucking good to be here again. For the first-timers in the audience, my virgins, here’s a taste of what I’m going to be giving you all night.” I winked for added effect. “This is ‘Hemorrhage.’”
McAvoy started up the backbeats, and then Miller, Vin, and I came in after an eight count. We’d played this song so many times that I could perform it in my sleep, but I tried to give it the same feel every time. The crowd bobbed along with beat, and I could hear girls singing along with me.
Just as I started on the second chorus, I saw her. The lyrics stuck in my throat, and I faltered through the line before recovering. Miller looked at me like I’d grown horns, but I just kept singing into the microphone as if nothing had happened. My eyes darted back to her, and she smiled at me.
Shit! Aribel.
What is she doing here? I’d thought that I would have to go to her if I ever wanted to see her again. Now, her hot little body was at my show and only ten feet in front of me. I was done for.
We ended “Hemorrhage” and moved into the next song easily. Her friends pushed her forward through the crowd until she was only a couple of rows away from me. And she wasn’t in a cardigan. She wasn’t even in a sweater. In fact, she was in some tight black dress, showing off her figure in ways that had my mind thinking about anything but the lyrics to this song.
I wasn’t sure my eyes left her for the next couple of songs. And as embarrassed as she clearly was by the attention and her friends whispering in her ear, she held her head high and watched the entire set. She wasn’t like the groupies in the first row—grinding their bodies to the music, singing along to every song, and reaching out for me—but she seemed to be enjoying herself.
“We have a special treat for you tonight,” I called into the microphone. “We’re playing a never-before-released track just for you. We’re calling this one ‘Letting You.’”
The only thing I could think about as I moved on to our last song was how fast I was going to get her backstage when I was finished.
Okay, I’d underestimated how good he is. Why didn’t I pay attention the last time I was at the ContraBand show? His voice was smooth and sexy, captivating the audience with the clever lyrics and easy rhythms.
Grant moved across the stage—guitar forgotten, microphone in hand—as he belted out the bridge of the song. His stage presence was the male equivalent to a Siren entrancing and capturing its victim. He owned the stage, the music, the lyrics, the people, the lights, and the sounds. The whole fucking room belonged to him, which inevitably meant that I belonged to him.
His eyes swept the crowd, making every single person around him feel like he was singing the song specifically for to that person, but then his eyes would return to me—intense, enthralling, and alluring.
I could feel people looking at me, assessing me, wondering
what was holding Grant’s attention. I’d thought that I would make some kind of splash by showing up tonight, but more like a ripple and less like a tidal wave.
It had been two weeks since Grant had basically broken into my apartment and kissed me. I’d kind of been expecting him to continue stalking my existence until I was sick of him, but just when he had made me promise to see him again, he’d disappeared. And, well, I wanted to know why he’d disappeared. It was more morbid curiosity about why the man who had taken my life by storm had cleared out just as quickly. Why would he push so hard and then fall off the face of the planet?
His silence intrigued me, and I wasn’t easily intrigued.
Cursing myself for wanting to figure him out, I’d told my friends that I was going to the ContraBand show with them. Shelby had looked stunned, Gabi had worn a knowing smile on her lips, and Cheyenne had jumped up and down while insisting on dressing me. That was how I’d ended up in a fit black dress and heels when I preferred cardigans and ballet flats.
Grant finished out the lyrics to the last song, which had to be my favorite. “That’s our show. Thanks for coming out to see us. We’re ContraBand. See you in a few weeks.”
The crowd cheered, and I joined in with the applause. My eyes were still trained on Grant, and after he put his guitar back on its stand, he found me again in the crowd. He crooked his finger at me, and my cheeks heated. Cheyenne nudged me forward through the dispersing group of people to the side of the stage.
“Hey,” I managed to get out over the noise in the room.
“Come here you,” Grant said, holding out his hand.
I wavered for a second before the girls made up my mind for me and pushed me forward. I walked straight up the stairs to Grant.
He smirked. “Hey, Princess.”
Oh, those goddamn nicknames! At least it isn’t darlin’!
“I didn’t wear my glass slippers tonight.”
“Then, I guess that means you won’t be leaving me at midnight either,” he said, taking my hand and walking me toward the stage exit.
I glanced over my shoulder for a brief moment and saw my friends freaking out along with a whole lot of other girls glaring at me. I raised my head and attempted to look like I belonged exactly where I was going. It was what I’d been raised to do. Though, my parents had probably instilled it in me for when I would meet politicians and CEOs, not for when I was walking backstage at The Ivy League.
The backstage area actually wasn’t much of a backstage. It was more like a long hallway with a restroom, a closet, and two exits. The other guys in the band were standing in the hallway. I only recognized Vin because he had tried to drug me, and he was now interested in Cheyenne.
“Picking early, Grant?” Vin asked, eyeing me up and down.
Oh, dear Lord, did he actually think I was a groupie? I opened my mouth to make sure he knew that I wasn’t, but Grant was already pulling me down the hallway.
“Something like that,” he said over his shoulder.
“Are you going to let them think that we’re coming back here for a reason?” I hissed as we walked away.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to let them think.” He wrenched me through the closest door.
The room was bigger than it looked from the outside. It looked more like an employee break room.
“I’m not some groupie,” she said, trying for a playful attitude. I fluttered my eyelashes at him, placed my hand on his chest, and mockingly leaned into him as if I were. “Oh, baby, take me now,” I purred.
Grant reached for me, and I slithered out of his grasp. I twirled slowly in a circle, knowing his eyes were on me, and then I beckoned him forward. When I backed away and tried to sidestep him again, I almost got past him, but he was too fast, and I was in heels. He pinned me back against the table, and I was lost in his dark brown eyes.
“If you keep teasing me like that, I’ll make you one,” he growled.
I laughed softly, trying to slow my thudding heart, as he nipped at my ear.
“I was just joking.” I pushed him off me and straightened out my dress.
“Darlin’, joking about sex with me when you’re not offering it up might not be in your best interest.”
He had a playful glint in his eye, but I knew he was serious.
“So, you came to my show.”
“Well, you stopped stalking me, so I thought I’d give it a go.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? How’s that working out for you?”
“I think it’s working out better for me than it did for you.”
“I like that.” He dropped his hands to my waist and ran his hands down my sides and before landing on my hips. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
I took a step forward, startled by his honesty. “You’ve been thinking about me?”
“Mmhmm…about this.”
His lips touched mine, and just like last time, I felt myself giving in to him. I thought I’d imagined how intoxicating his kisses were, but my memory hadn’t done this justice. The only thing I could focus on was the electricity between us. Heat pooled in my stomach and radiated from my center.
Grant moved me to the couch to sit next to him. He dragged my bottom lip between his teeth and then captured me in another searing kiss. My breathing was ragged. My arm was around his neck, the other grasping his side. My leg was nestled against his, and as he drew me closer, it slipped over his knee. His hand dropped down on my bare leg. I didn’t even have a mind to move him. His kisses were keeping me completely occupied.
He positioned me to straddle him. My dress rode up dangerously high, and I squirmed, wondering if I was letting this go too far. But he kept his lips on mine, and that energy was burning its way through me.
Both his hands were on my legs now, and I could feel his calloused fingertips trailing up my thigh. They were featherlight touches at first, making my whole body hum, as he traveled higher and higher. His hand slipped under my short dress, and I let out a soft gasp against his mouth. He grinned at my response as he slowly traced the line of my underwear. My body quivered at the touch, and I seriously contemplated letting him do whatever he wanted with me. How did he get me this flustered?
He distracted me with his mouth, but this time, he pressed his luck, tugging lightly at my underwear. His finger slid under the material, and he swiped it down my core. That brought me back to my senses. I jumped out of his lap faster than I’d thought I could move in these heels and yanked my dress back down.
Jesus, I was about to become a groupie if I couldn’t get a hold of myself. Gripping the table, I took a few deep breaths. I didn’t care if he saw how worked up he’d gotten me. I just had to stop.
Grant casually leaned back, looking completely unperturbed that I’d run away. Well, aside from the large bulge in his jeans.
I averted my gaze quickly. “I should probably get back to my friends.”
He stood and moved so that he was in front of me again. He tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind my ear and planted another kiss on my lips. “Are you sure?” he asked, his hands finding the hem of my dress again.
“Sure, um…yes,” I said.
“Your body disagrees.”
He started to slide my dress back up over my hips, but I stilled his hands.
“My friends,” I said more confidently.
He sighed. I guessed he was realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere else with me right now.
He checked his watch. “Ten minutes.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
I didn’t wait to figure it out as I walked toward the door.
“Hey, Ari,” he said, catching up to me.
“Yeah?”
His hand reached out for mine, and he threaded our fingers together. My heart skipped a beat, but I tried not to get caught up in him.
“I’m really glad you showed up.”
A smile broke out on my face. “Me, too,” I admitted shyly.
He gave me that heart-wrenching smile that had started it all. “And I’m going to see you again?”
His brown eyes stared deep into mine, and I couldn’t think of a reason to deny him, so I just nodded. His broadening smile was worth it.
We walked back down the darkened hallway and out the door to the bar. The band was standing with a cluster of girls, my friends among them. The guys looked at us with various forms of surprise.
“You done already, bro?” Vin asked with a cackle. “Quickest quickie ever.”
As the other guys cracked up, I glared at Vin.
“Seriously?” I asked in frustration.
I was ready to contradict them when Grant bent down and whispered in my ear, “Ignore them.”
“Ignore them?” I hissed. “Are you kidding me right now? They think we just had sex, and you’re just going to—”
“They wouldn’t believe me even if I told them that we hadn’t,” he told me plainly.
“Oh, how your reputation precedes you.”
“You and I both know what happened. Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?”
“Because I have a reputation, too, and I don’t want you to make me look like one of your sluts.”
Grant laughed at my comment, but I didn’t think it was very funny.
“Sorry, babe, but it’s a hazard of being around me.”
I opened my mouth to say something smart back, but he wasn’t finished.
“And you’ve already promised to see me again. I’m not letting you back out now.”
“You’re going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”
He winked at me. “Not a chance.”
Two guys I didn’t recognize walked up to us. “Grant,” one of the guys said, “Hurst said tonight was the biggest crowd we’ve had.”
“Epic,” Grant said.
I glanced between them and wondered why I was left standing here awkwardly. So, I thrust out my hand and introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Aribel.”
Both guys looked at me in surprise and then back at Grant.
After a second, one of them took my hand slowly, like he had never been introduced to anyone before. “Miller.”