Promise Me Forever (Top Shelf Romance)

by Kate Stewart

  The door closes behind them, and my embarrassment whooshes out of me on a lengthened breath.

  The door pops open, and Grip sticks his head back in.

  “Shower and get dressed. If we leave soon, we won’t be late.” Chagrin twists his lips and pushes his brows up. “And I’m sorry again about . . .”

  He points a thumb out the door.

  “It’s okay.” I muster a weak smile. “How should I dress? Where are we going?”

  “Remember? Surprise.” A devilish grin widens on his face. “Just be beautiful.”

  I slip on a silk robe against the slight morning chill. When I walk into Grip’s massive closet, his prized shoe collection takes up an entire wall. My eyes immediately go to the gap he left for me to hang the things he suggested I bring and leave at his place. This is happening fast. I mean, I know it’s been coming for years, but still.

  “What are you doing, Bristol?” I ask myself, dropping to the bench planted in the middle of the closet, toying with the belt of my robe. “Are you sure about this?”

  Amir showed up, the first contact we’ve had with the outside world in two days, and all my insecurities and doubts followed him through the front door. Are things really so different than they were before I told Grip how I feel? He’s still a star with an all-access pussy pass. Still the kind of man who, even if he weren’t famous, would attract women effortlessly. I’m still the girl who can’t draw lines around her heart where he’s concerned.

  “Hey.” Grip props a shoulder at the arched entrance of the closet. “You’re supposed to be in the shower by now. I was hoping to ambush you all wet and naked.”

  “Um, I was just wondering what Amir said?” I wrinkle my brows. “What did he think?”

  “I’m pretty sure his exact words were, ‘Took you long enough, pussy.’”

  His teasing grin melts when I don’t manage a smile back, too disoriented now that the sex haze has cleared. He walks deeper into the closet and sits beside me, taking my hand. He kisses the inside of my wrist and clasps an arm around my shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug and press into the warm strength of his chest. The longer I’m tucked into his arms, the faster my fears drain away. “I guess seeing Amir just reminded me that there’s a world out there that will be hard for us to navigate.”

  “Just out there?” He lays his lips against my temple. “What about the world in here? In your head?”

  I glance up at him and hate seeing the guard going up in his eyes.

  “I told you I’m not letting you go again, Bristol.” The strain in his voice tightens his lips. “You don’t get to have second thoughts. You can’t—”

  I grab his neck and slant my lips over his, invading the warm silkiness of his mouth, aggressively thrusting and seeking. Passionate. Certain. I’ve allowed these fears to rule me for years, to delay this for years. I’m not giving into them again. I won’t ruin this. Grip said my capacity to love can be a strength. I’ll let him show me how.

  He hums against my lips, a greedy sound as his hands brand my back through the silk robe. He digs into my hips, molds my thighs and arms, possession in every touch. He pulls out of the kiss, cupping my chin and forcing my eyes to his.

  “You can’t take this away from me. Not again.” His jaw clenches. “You start having doubts about me, about us, we talk about it. It’s one thing to have to negotiate the Qwest situation or the pressures that come with this industry. Those aren’t the things that kept us apart. I can fight all of that. I can’t fight you.”

  “I know,” I whisper. “I was having doubts for a minute.”

  “Was?” He’s watchful and waiting. “Not anymore?”

  “Not anymore.” I lean in for another kiss, and his hand presses at the back of my head when I would pull away, maintaining the sweet contact. Ravishing my lips until they throb in time with the rhythm of our kiss.

  “Don’t doubt me, Bris.”

  A fist closes around my heart at the plea on his lips, in his eyes.

  “I won’t.” I cup the side of his face and give him one last kiss. “I promise.”

  “Good.” The tight line of his mouth eases. “Now we really will be late if we don’t get cracking.”

  “I’m not gonna ask again.” I stand and walk over to the bag of clothes I brought.

  “Good, ’cause I still ain’t telling you nothing.” He laughs, but there’s no mistaking the quiet satisfaction in his eyes as he watches me hang the few items I packed in his closet.

  I’ve finished my shower and am wiping steam from the mirror when he comes into the bathroom, still wearing the sleep pants hanging low on his hips. I’m tempted to tug on the drawstring holding them up so I can see all his bare magnificence again, but his frown quells all my playful instincts.

  “Now what?” I scrub cleanser onto my face, leaving untouched circles around my eyes.

  “You said you and Parker are done, right?” His question and his tone ring abruptly in the bathroom.

  My fingertips go still on my cheeks, and my eyes meet his in the mirror. Before I can answer, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. My phone.

  “You left this downstairs.” He places it on the bathroom counter. “Why’s he blowing you up?”

  “Is he?” I carefully re-tuck the towel under my arm, at least making sure it is secure since this conversation could quickly become less than safe. “I don’t know.”

  I splash water onto my face, wishing I could wash away all those messages and the last few weeks with Parker altogether.

  “Like four missed calls, text messages, voicemails.” He rests a hip against the counter, waiting, expecting an explanation from me.

  “Were you snooping, Grip?” My smile in the mirror as I dry my face is strained.

  “I heard it ringing downstairs when you were in the shower.” Grip crosses his arms over the width of his chest, biceps flexed with the motion. “Does he understand that it’s over? Why all the calls?”

  I dot moisturizer on my face and shrug.

  “I’d have to listen to the messages to know what he wants for sure.”

  He picks up the phone and extends it to me, one brow cocked.

  “No time like the present.”

  My short laugh sounds uneasy even to me. I grab the phone, but set it back on the counter.

  “Later. Aren’t you the one who said I need to get ready?”

  I run a brush through my hair and don’t look at him even though his scrutiny in the mirror never wavers.

  “I said I didn’t want to re-hash everything,” Grip says. “But just tell me what happened with Parker.”

  Shit.

  “Um, what do you want to know?” I drop the question but walk away before he has time to respond, heading into the closet and flicking through my limited wardrobe options. “You really should tell me what to wear for this surprise of yours. Is this okay?”

  I hold a romper to my chest, taking his “I don’t give a damn” expression as a no and discarding it to search the rack for something else.

  “Okay, maybe this one?” I hold up a cotton candy pink belted tunic dress with a high-low hem for his inspection. He still doesn’t respond with anything other than the exasperation on his face. “Yeah, I like this one, too.”

  He snatches the dress from my hand and tosses it onto the padded bench in the center of the closet.

  “Stop avoiding my question.” Impatience disrupts the rugged beauty of his face. “What happened with Parker?”

  “I thought we were short on time.” I turn my back to dig in my carry all, searching for ankle boots. “I know I had a pair of—”

  He pulls me around by my shoulders to face him. His hands glide down my still-damp arms to link his fingers with mine, the warmth of his bare chest emanating to my chilled skin.

  “Tell me. Now.”

  I sigh and slump my shoulders before starting.

  “I used Parker to push you to Qwest.” I che
w the corner of my mouth for a second. “We weren’t ever actually in a relationship.”

  I roll my eyes and gesture vaguely.

  “I mean, we dated a few months, yeah, back in high school.”

  “And fucked in the coat check.” Grip’s words emerge controlled, but a savage objection flares in his eyes, a warning that beneath the placid surface, a beast bides its time.

  “Yeah.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “But it didn’t take me long to figure out it wasn’t gonna work. I broke things off when I started at Columbia and he went off to Stanford. He’s been trying to wiggle back in ever since.”

  “So you fucked Parker, after all these years, just so I would try with Qwest? You went that far to manipulate me?”

  The scariest part of what he says is what he doesn’t say. The things that, even though not voiced, take flight behind his eyes. Disappointment. Anger. Disgust.

  “Not exactly. I—”

  “Then what exactly?” he slices over me.

  “Give me a chance to explain.”

  “That’s what this is. The chance to have your say.” He narrows his eyes. “I just hate everything you’re saying.”

  I sit on the bench and press my knees together under the thick towel, trying to keep my back and my facts straight.

  “That night on the roof you said neither of us had been in a serious relationship, and that seemed to make you think there was a chance when I really didn’t think there should be. Then before the show, I overheard you talking with Rhys and Kai in your dressing room.”

  “You eavesdropped on us?” It comes as a quiet demand.

  “Not on purpose, but I could tell that you wanted . . . more. That you wanted to be with someone the way Rhyson is with Kai, and you were held up with me.”

  I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

  “When Parker upgraded Qwest’s room at his hotel that night, it was perfect timing.” I dip my head until a fall of hair hides my face from him. “So I invited Parker to the club. I wanted you to see us together and thought it might give you a little push in the right direction.”

  The silence swells with all the emotions he’s suppressing, but they bubble up to the surface anyway, tightening the air in the closet until it feels like a tomb.

  “I can tell you’re frustrated with me,” I say softly. “You don’t have to hide that. I can take it.”

  “You wasted more time.” He walks over to the few of my items hanging in the space he allotted for me, back turned to me. He lifts the sleeve of a dress and lets it fall. “And we involved Qwest. She got hurt because of us. And Parker?”

  He aims a hard look at me over his shoulder.

  “You fucked him to advance this dumb ass plan of yours?”

  “No.” I squeeze my eyes shut, but that doesn’t keep me from seeing myself clearly. “I had no intention of sleeping with Parker. I was so drunk I didn’t even know what had happened when I woke up with him in my bed the next morning. He had to tell me we had slept together.”

  “Don’t tell me that.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a growl rumbling in his chest. He links his hands behind his head, pacing back and forth in front of the bench. “If you were anywhere near as drunk that night as you were at Pirouette, I can’t believe you had sex with someone in that state. Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is? He could have done anything to you. You’re supposed to be the rational one. The level-headed one, and you pull this shit.”

  I surge to my feet, reaching for anger. Anything to distract me from the shame and regret weaving together like a chain link fence around my self-respect.

  “I never claimed to be perfect and you aren’t my keeper. I don’t need a lecture, Grip. I’m just trying to tell you what happened.”

  “And I’m telling you it’s fucked up!” Grip’s voice reverberates in the confines of the closet. “All of it. You pulling in Parker to get me to sleep with Qwest.”

  “I didn’t force you to sleep with her.”

  “You getting drunk,” he continues as if I didn’t correct him, “and riding off into the night with that asshole.”

  “Riding off into the night?” I scoff. “Glad we’re not resorting to the dramatic.”

  “Sleeping with him when you weren’t even lucid enough to remember.” He pauses, giving me space to object, but I don’t have an objection. He can’t be anymore disappointed in me than I am in myself for that. My anger deflates as quickly as it rose, and so does his. He steps close and brushes a knuckle over my cheek before cupping my face.

  “Bris, what’s up with all the drinking lately?” His voice is a balm over the self-inflicted wounds of my own actions. “I mean we’ve always joked that you can outdrink us all, that nobody holds their liquor like you, but it was never like this. Should I be worried?”

  A heavy laugh tumbles out of my mouth. I lean into his warm palm and close my eyes against the concern on his face.

  “I’m not an alcoholic if that’s what you’re asking.” I step even closer to him, so close I can drop my head to his chest and mumble my words into the smooth skin. “Lately I just needed to be . . . numb.”

  “Why?” When I don’t respond for a few seconds, he lifts my chin and searches my face. “Numb to what?”

  I pull away to show him the truth in my eyes.

  “You and Qwest. That night I sent you off on a date with her, I was miserable. And I knew I did it to myself. Not just involving Parker or arranging the date with Qwest, but letting my fears rule me. Denying myself the one thing I really wanted.”

  “And what was that?” His eyes rest intently on my face. He already knows the answer, but I know he needs to hear me say it. After all I’ve put him through, he deserves to hear it. “What do you want?”

  “You,” I whisper.

  There’s no gloating, no smugness in his expression.

  “You’ve got me.” He presses his forehead to mine, angling my chin to kiss me with quick tenderness. “I just hate how we got here.”

  “So do I.” I place my hands flat to his chest, hesitating before going on. “If it’s any consolation, Parker and I were never actually dating. I’m pretty sure he leaked everything that night to Spotted. He thought the media storm and all the coverage would somehow pressure me into giving in and making it real.”

  “Giving in?” The muscle tenses beneath my palms. “What does he want?”

  “He wants what he’s always wanted.” I shrug, frank when I meet his eyes. “He wants me. Ever since we were kids he said he would marry me. Our mothers started it, and he just latched on. He sees himself as the king of his family’s empire, and me as his . . .”

  I stop short of the word so closely associated with Grip and Qwest.

  “Queen?” The word trips, loaded with irony, off Grip’s tongue.

  “He’s crazy.” I dig my fingers into my hair. “I keep telling him I won’t marry him, but he won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Why did you let it go on for weeks?”

  “He was in India almost the entire time, and the media had, for the most part, lost interest.” I force myself to tell him the truth; though, I know it will only anger him. “I knew you gave Qwest a chance because you thought Parker and I were serious. I’d just started pressing him to tell the media the truth.”

  “When I think about you basically unconscious, of Parker taking advantage of you like that . . .”

  He holds my hand, his gentle grip tightening around my fingers. He lifts his lashes to reveal the leashed violence in his eyes, and he doesn’t have to finish the sentence. It’s written there what he wants to do to Parker.

  “Then don’t think about it.” I stretch up to kiss him, deliberately stroking my tongue deeply into his mouth, an exclusive, intimate exchange I don’t want to have with anyone else. “Think about us. Think about what we feel, what we’ve said to each other. Think about today.”

  “Today he’s still calling you.” A bunched muscle interrupts the smooth, lightly scruffed line of hi
s jaw. “You told him it isn’t happening, but he’s still calling and texting.”

  “I know. I’ll—”

  “I want it to stop.”

  I blink a few times, waiting for the ferocity to clear from his eyes, but it only intensifies the longer I stay silent.

  “Okayyyyy. I’ll check the messages, and I’ll handle it.”

  “If you don’t handle him, I will,” he warns.

  Oh, the fuck no. That’s the last thing I need.

  “That isn’t a good idea. He’s . . .”

  I focus on our bare feet just inches apart, our toes pointing to each other.

  “He’s a very powerful man, Grip, and I don’t want you hurt.”

  There’s an ominous quiet before the storm I should have known my comment would stir.

  “You think I’m scared of that son of a bitch?” A dark cloud breaks on his face, his voice a boom of thunder. “You think you have to protect me from him? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “You don’t know him. He—”

  “You get one shot.” He clips the words, anger still brimming in his eyes. “Listen to the messages. Deal with him or I will.”

  “You don’t boss me around.” My words land heavily between us. I hate to say it, but I have to say it. I have no plans to be anyone other than who I am. “Let’s be clear about that.”

  The bands stretching tightly over his expression loosen just a little bit. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he drops a kiss at the corner of my mouth.

  “That’s my girl.”

  A confused laugh pops from my mouth. I assert myself, expecting resistance, and it only draws him closer.

  “I have no desire to boss you around, Bristol. I love that you’re a boss. It’s sexy as hell.”

  “Well, thank you for—”

  He cups my pussy under the towel tucked around me, his eyes heated, holding me hostage.

  “This is the only part of you I want to boss around.” His middle finger strokes along one side of my clit and then the other. “There won’t be any doubt who’s the boss right here between these legs.”

  The lazy motion of his finger snatches the breath from me. I’m wet and anaerobic, unable to even pant while he tends to my clit, brushing a rough finger pad along the slickened nub. One thick finger breaches me and retreats. Breaches me and retreats, a rough repetition that soaks his hand and makes my thighs tremble. Holy hell, I may not want to be bossed around, but Grip is Commander-In-Clit. He can get it anytime he wants.