STILL (Grip Book 2)

by Kennedy Ryan

  I angle my head, studying him. If there’s one thing I know, it’s when Grip wants something. He’s never held back from me, never left me wondering what he wanted from me, but now, I sense that he’s withholding something.

  “What do you want?” I slide back down the headboard until we’re both lying down, facing one another. “From me? Grip, tell me what you want.”

  Hesitation clouds his expression, and then he shutters his face altogether.

  “Like you said.” He pushes the wild tumble of hair back from my face. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Tell me what you want.” I brush my thumb over the dark slash of his brows. “Can you do that for me?”

  “Bris.” He drops his lashes, covering whatever is hiding in his eyes. “I don’t think—”

  “Right—don’t think, just tell me.”

  He scans my face. I know my expression is a blank check, offering him whatever he wants, but I don’t care. All hesitation falls away. Staring back at me is the persistent man who pursued me shamelessly for eight years, who wore my resistance down to nothing.

  “I want you to come with me.” A muscle clenches in his jaw. “I know it’s selfish and might seem like I’m asking you to follow me across the country, but—”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m still asking,” he goes on, like I didn’t speak, like he didn’t hear me. “I don’t know how we make it work. We’ll figure that out together, but the thought of seeing you only a few times a month . . . I know we can do it, I just don’t want to.”

  “Grip.”

  “And maybe I am a caveman. Maybe it is sexist to ask you to be the one who moves. It’s just, with classes three times a week, I don’t see how I can—”

  “Grip.” I press my fingers over the soft lips that were making love to my nipples not even an hour ago. “Baby, I said yes.”

  “You did?” he mumbles into my fingers, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

  “I did.” I laugh, not exactly sure how I’ll make it work, but knowing that I will. For him, I will. “I mean, I’ll have to come back and forth some, but I have to try. I don’t want a long-distance relationship. That sounds like torture.”

  Grip’s smile dims and his brows draw together.

  “But Rhyson needs you here now more than ever. He won’t be happy to hear you’re moving to New York at such a crucial time.”

  “Rhys will understand. He’s got Kai.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That he knows how it feels to have someone who means more than everything else.”

  Grip’s expression softens. His eyes are intent, like he’s memorizing the way the light strikes my face the same way I’m memorizing him. He slowly, painstakingly peels the sheet back from my breasts, the cool air raising goose bumps on my naked skin . . . or maybe that’s just Grip.

  “I know you said you like a rough fuck.” Grip shifts until he’s leaning over me, his weight supported by the muscles flexing in his arms. He slots his lean hips between my thighs, and I feel him eager and ready again through the sheet covering my legs. “But how do you feel about long, slow, grateful ones?”

  I widen my thighs so he sinks deeper into me.

  “The longer,” I say, reaching between us to grab his growing erection, my hand fisting him, lengthening him. “The better.”

  4

  Bristol

  Me: Hey! I know it’s Sunday morning, but I need to talk to you about something.

  Rhyson: Sure. You wanna call?

  Me: I was actually thinking about coming over.

  Rhyson: See you when you get here.

  Me: I’m kind of already here.

  No message bubbles appear, and a few seconds later the front door to Rhyson’s stately home flings open. My twin brother stands in the entrance, grinning at me as I lean against my baby girl, the Audi convertible I bought a few years ago.

  “Aren’t you polite this morning?” He steps back, gesturing for me to walk past him into the house. “You usually just barge in.”

  He’s right. I have all his codes and keys, full access to his life.

  “That was before Kai moved in.” I pause in the doorway to give him a quick hug before walking through to the foyer. “If you didn’t like to screw your little wife all over this place at all times of the day, maybe I would risk showing up unannounced.”

  He offers no apologies, only that cocky grin that used to strip women of their panties. Now he just uses it to tell me he’s a happily married man with one set of panties to worry about.

  “Probably a good idea.” He tips his head toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’m eating breakfast.”

  Sunshine brightens the room, the marble counters and modern state-of-the-art appliances—which Rhyson’s probably never touched—gleaming. His housekeeper has always taken good care of him, and now Kai cooks any time her schedule allows.

  “Hungry? Coffee?” Rhyson glances at me, his eyes silvery under a sweep of dark hair. He’s my brother, but even I can appreciate that he’s a beautiful man.

  Of course he is—we’re twins.

  He and I tell Grip that all the time to make him roll his eyes and laugh. Speaking of Grip . . . I’m here for a reason, and I hope this goes well.

  “No, I’m good.” I cast a disparaging look at the orange mash in the food processor on the counter. “Especially if that is breakfast.”

  “That’s Aria’s baby food. Kai makes it herself.” Rhyson laughs and settles onto a bar stool at the counter, a croissant on the plate in front of him. “Today was sweet potato.”

  I find myself smiling too as I take the stool beside him.

  “Where is my adorable niece?”

  “You’re not gonna believe this.” Rhyson slants me a wry grin. “Don’t laugh.”

  “I won’t.” Though I’m laughing a little inside already because he told me not to. I’m perverse that way.

  “Kai took her to church.” He gives me a don’t say a word look.

  Rhyson would be an atheist if he cared enough to actually declare himself something, and the irony of him marrying the daughter of a Southern Baptist preacher is not lost on any of us.

  “Kai took Aria to church?” A half laugh, half breath leaves my lips. “Did she go with Aunt Ruthie?”

  Kai’s Aunt Ruthie lives with them and helps out with Aria since Kai’s schedule can get crazy. One of the first things Aunt Ruthie did when she relocated from Glory Falls, Georgia, was find a church here in LA. I can’t pretend to understand why this is urgent for anyone, but apparently it’s a thing for church people.

  “No, that’s just it.” Rhyson takes a sip of coffee and shrugs. “She doesn’t like Aunt Ruthie’s church, so she’s looking for the ‘right’ one. She wants Aria to grow up in a progressive church, an oxymoron if I ever heard one.”

  “So Aria will grow up believing in arcs and angels?” The smile I give him holds genuine curiosity. “Are you okay with that?”

  Rhyson tips his head to the left, actually considering it.

  “I trust Kai. She won’t go overboard or get Aria into anything crazy.” He shrugs and goes back to his croissant. “Besides, that’s how Kai was raised, and it didn’t screw her up too badly.”

  “That’s definitely true. You married up, brother.”

  As I knew he would, Rhyson almost spits out the coffee mid-sip, his expression incredulous.

  “Oh, now I married up, but not too long ago you swore Kai was a conniving gold digger.” Rhyson narrows teasing eyes at me. “Excellent judge of character, by the way.”

  “In my defense, I was looking out for you.” I smile brightly, ignoring just how wrong I was about my now sister-in-law. “It all worked out beautifully.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” Rhyson offers a quick smile before turning eyes the exact shape and color of mine in my direction. “But you didn’t drag your ass over here on a Sunday morning to celebrate my marriage.”

  I hadn’t realized how much I was dreading this conve
rsation until I was right in front of it.

  “I think I will have some coffee after all.” I walk over to the counter, to the coffee machine that looks like it came with launch codes. Rhyson waits patiently, but his curiosity crackles in the kitchen while he takes the occasional bite. Once I’m settled beside him again with a cup of coffee I don’t want or need, I turn to face him.

  “Do you remember the book Grip couldn’t stop talking about this summer?”

  Rhyson snorts and cocks one dark brow.

  “It was unavoidable.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Viper or Sickness or—”

  “Virus, by a guy named Israel Hammond.”

  “Right.” Rhyson’s face animates. “When I went to Marlon’s show in Paris, he quoted like half a chapter to me back at the hotel.”

  “That sounds right.” I smile, my heart swelling a little with pride in Grip’s passion, his convictions. “He says it was life-changing.”

  “That’s our boy.” Rhyson chuckles, affection for Grip coloring his smile. “Somebody’s gotta change the world.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” I bite my lip, training my eyes on the swirling pattern in the marble countertop. “Dr. Hammond is guest lecturing at NYU this semester.”

  It gets quiet enough for me to hear the hum of the shiny appliances in the kitchen.

  “He’s going to New York then?” I feel Rhyson’s eyes on my face but don’t look up to meet them quite yet.

  “Yeah,” I answer before biting the bullet and looking up to meet his gaze. “And I’m going with him.”

  Rhyson nods slowly, turning his mouth down at the corners.

  “Never thought I’d see my little sister dropping everything to follow some man across the country.”

  I’m too on edge to detect the teasing in his voice, so I’m already poised for battle, mouth locked and loaded with ammo, only to find him laughing at me.

  “Bastard,” I mutter, fighting a smile.

  “I’m not sure our mother would appreciate that.”

  Rhyson’s smile holds, but his face ices over the way it always does when my mother comes up. My relationship with her isn’t nearly as complex and convoluted as his, and overall, on a scale of one to fucked up, my relationship with her has always been pretty fucked up. That said, I’ll never forget how she intervened to get me out of the mess with Parker. I’ll always remember those moments of naked vulnerability she and I shared that day we took him down. Things have continued to slowly thaw between us, even though we’re still not besties. It takes effort and patience and forgiveness—three things Rhyson has never had for our mother.

  “You cut Dad some slack, Rhys,” I say, reminding him of the progress he and our father have made over the last few years. “Maybe you could cut her some, too.”

  “Maybe you could mind your own damn business.” He shifts his cool stare over my shoulder.

  I just keep looking at him because he knows that I, unlike half the people in this town, am not scared of him and can give as good as I get. He also realizes that I know how deeply our mother injured him. She injured me, too. They all did, but I kept on fighting to have them in my life. As hard as it’s been, it’s also been worth it.

  “Bris, I’m sorry.” Rhyson runs an agitated hand through his already rumpled hair. “I . . . can we just talk about what you came here to talk about and leave her out of it?”

  “Sure.” I lick my lips and set aside my fix-it reflex, that part of me that wants to get to the bottom of everything and make it work properly. Our family has never worked properly, so why I—who spent half my life on a therapist’s couch—think I can fix us, I have no idea, but I never stop trying.

  “So you want to go with Marlon to New York, huh?” Rhyson forces a smile, deliberately shifting us to safer ground.

  “Yeah.” My smile comes more naturally just because he said Grip’s name. There are two things absolutely right in my life: my career and my man. I would prefer not to ruin one for the other, but if Rhyson forces me to choose, I have every confidence I can find another way to make a living—though I know it won’t come to that.

  First of all, I’m his sister.

  Second of all, he needs me too badly. I’ve become indispensable. That, even beyond the blood and DNA we share, is my insurance policy.

  “Look, I know there’s a lot going on with Prodigy,” I begin, prepared to build my case for why I could work from the moon as long as I have Wi-Fi.

  “But nothing you can’t handle from New York,” Rhyson says before I can mount my defense.

  “Right.” I sketch a quick frown before continuing. “And I know I need to be on site for certain things.”

  “But you can just fly here for those and then go back to New York when you’re done.” Rhyson sips his coffee, regarding me steadily over the rim. “Between video conference, Wi-Fi, and every other technological advance at our disposal, shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I was hoping you’d see that.” Though I thought I would have to be the one to make him see it.

  “And it’s just for the semester, right? Next semester you guys would be back in LA?”

  “Yeah.” Out of habit I rub at my neck to ease the tension, but there’s no tension there. This conversation is going much better than I had hoped. “We’ll be back in December after finals.”

  Rhyson kind of stole my thunder, took some of the wind from my sails. I was fully prepared to persuade, convince, and cajole him to my point of view, but he anticipated everything I had lined up. I do at least have one thing he probably didn’t see coming.

  “I was thinking while I’m in New York, I could feel out some Broadway possibilities,” I say nonchalantly.

  “Broadway?” Curiosity lights up his eyes. “For who?”

  “Well, I know Kai wants to get into acting, and after her album drops, we’ve been talking about movie roles.”

  “No nudity,” he cuts in, wearing his I mean it face. “I told you, Bris. Don’t even bring us a script that calls for her to do some fifty shades of fucked up shit with some dickhead actor. If I haven’t been clear—”

  “The last time we discussed Kai’s movie career, you asked me to look for nun roles.” I layer my look and my words with sarcasm. “I think you were pretty clear.”

  “Good,” Rhyson mutters, either not seeing or not caring how ridiculous he sounds. My sister-in-law will thank me later for saving her from wearing a habit onscreen.

  “Kai’s one of those rare talents who can do it all,” I continue. “She sings, dances, acts, and is gorgeous.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty amazing.” Pride and love fill his eyes, and I’m so happy my brother didn’t listen to me when I questioned Kai’s motives, so happy neither of us settled for the matrimonial farce our parents showed us all those years.

  “There aren’t many Broadway roles that require nudity.” I shrug and widen my eyes innocently. “Maybe my time in New York could open up a whole new avenue for Kai.”

  The cogs are turning so hard in my brother’s head, I think I smell smoke.

  “I love that idea, Bris.” He leans over to hook his arm around my neck and pull me closer. “And I think it’s great that you’re putting your relationship with Marlon first.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, and I know it’s your choice. He’s not that guy who would drag you across the country by your hair.”

  “I had to force him to tell me he wanted me to go with him.” I smile at the memory. “He’s so concerned with me being happy and doing what I love.”

  “Unlike me who would just say Kai, pack your shit, you’re coming with me to New York?” Rhyson laughs, but his voice rings with truth.

  “Your words,” I say with a grin. “Not mine.”

  He almost destroyed their relationship trying to control Kai. Our parents set that pattern managing his career as a piano prodigy, using love as control, and it’s taken him twenty years to break out of it.

  “I’ve gotten a lot better, too,�
� Rhyson asserts. “Just ask Kai.”

  “Ask me what?”

  Kai stands in the kitchen doorway, Aria perched on her hip. Her petite frame is perfectly lit by the sun shining through the windows, and for a moment, my brother looks dazzled by the dark hair hanging almost to her waist and the tilted eyes that are even more beautiful because they are kind. My niece is such a perfectly adorable blend of Rhys and Kai, I can’t resist going over and snatching her up immediately.

  While I’m cooing to Aria, Rhyson is thoroughly kissing his wife, pulling her much shorter frame up and into his.

  For a long damn time.

  “Ahem.” I clear my throat meaningfully. “You think you two could wrap this up before Aria graduates?”

  Kai turns dreamy, love-dazed eyes my way, a bashful smile on her pretty face. You’d never know this unassuming girl in her simple jeans and T-shirt is about to blow the music industry wide open. Her sweetness cloaks a driving ambition that is backed up by immense talent. She’s going to be the biggest thing since . . . well, Grip, and it’s my job to make sure that happens. No one deserves it more than Kai; she’s lost so much over the course of her life, and it’s good to see her happy, especially with my brother.

  “Sorry.” A faint blush colors her cheekbones. “Rhys, what were you saying Bristol should ask me when I came in?”

  He winks at me conspiratorially over her shoulder.

  “We were just wondering how you feel about Broadway.”

  5

  Bristol

  “This could be the one, Bris.”

  I glance from the clean modern lines of the beautifully decorated Tribeca apartment to Charisma Simmons, my friend since high school. Her mother, Bridget, one of New York’s most elite realtors, has shown me several properties this week, and none of them made me feel like this one does. There’s something special here. Even though Grip and I will only be leasing it for the semester, it has its own permanence, like it has only ever been someone’s home. There’s a warmth that wraps around me; it feels personal. It could be that this one comes fully furnished while the others were cold, stark, empty boxes—albeit expensive empty boxes. You have to mortgage your soul to live in New York. I shouldn’t be surprised; I grew up here, and LA isn’t much better. We had an apartment on the Upper East Side, where I lived during the school year, close to the private school I attended. When I wasn’t there, I was at our estate a few hours outside the city. My parents and Rhyson were rarely at either since they were usually on the road, and those places never felt like home—but this, this was someone’s home. I can feel it.