3. Tanner

THREE

TANNER

I pick up my pace, feet pounding on the pavement beneath me as I open up into a full sprint. After a night of tossing and turning, I decided before the sun was even up to go for a run. My hope was that I'd get a little bit of clarity on why I'm feeling so messed up right now.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I flew out the Valentines' front door like a bat out of hell after Grace told me her plan to find a guy and explore BDSM with him. I paced my kitchen for an hour, practically wearing a hole in the hardwood floors, ready to tear this whole town to shreds…and I don't even understand why.

I pretended like I didn't know what that movie was about because I thought it would be funny to watch her get all flustered. I honestly didn't expect it to have so many graphic sex scenes, but after the initial shock, I was able to focus on Grace's reactions. I didn't miss a single one of her gasps and quiet moans as the man on screen dominated his girl. The way her thighs clenched together as the couple fucked roughly. I saw everything.

Is that really what she's into? Or was she just trying to throw me off? I'll be completely real. I've never once even considered that Grace could be out there having sex. But she's eighteen. Clearly, she wasn't going to stay a virgin forever. I've been her protector for so long that I guess I just pushed those thoughts from my mind. Now that I'm being forced to really consider it all, I understand that was a pretty good defense mechanism, because the way it's all making me feel isn't something I expected.

I also don't expect to end up back on her doorstep before dawn, knocking loudly when I know there's no way she's up. But fuck it. I won't be able to focus on anything else until we sort all of this out.

"Grace!" I yell, pounding my fist rapidly against the hard wood. "It's Tanner. Open up!" I change tactics, ringing the doorbell, listening between pushes of the button for any movement inside. "Grace!"

I hear footsteps followed by loud shuffling and then a thud against the door before it swings open. Grace is standing there wearing an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. Her smooth, creamy thighs are on display, and I only tear my eyes away from them when I see that she's cradling her forehead with her hand. "Tanner? What are you doing here? It's nighttime," she says groggily, wincing as she rubs her head.

I push into the house, shutting the door before placing my hands on her warm cheeks. "What happened?" I ask, concern lacing my tone as I tilt her head so I can see better.

She drops her hand to reveal a red mark on her skin, which is swelling just slightly. "I tripped over my shoes and hit my head on the door. It was dark and I forgot I didn't put them on the mat," she says. Without even thinking, I lean forward, gently pressing my lips to her forehead. I close my eyes, inhaling her vanilla shampoo, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling back. It's not the first time I've kissed one of her bumps or bruises. I can't even pretend to know how many times she fell off her bike or the trampoline when we were kids, screaming like she was being murdered until I checked it and kissed it better. But we aren't kids anymore, and it's been years since I've done it, so why was that my first instinct?

"You okay?" I say, inspecting the bump again by ghosting the pad of my thumb across it. It's raised, but not enough for me to freak out over.

"I'm fine," she says quietly. "Why are you here? What time is it?" she asks, squinting as she tries to focus on the wall clock across the room.

"It's four thirty," I answer. "We need to talk."

She furrows her eyebrows in confusion but says nothing as she leads the way to the living room. She rounds the couch, stopping to turn on a table lamp before she sits down. I follow, keeping enough space between us so I can think without reaching over out of my own frustration and shaking some sense into her.

"What couldn't wait until daylight, hot shot?" she sasses, bringing her knees up to her chest and pulling her t-shirt over them. I take a few seconds to figure out what I'm going to say, because even though my mind has been racing since I left her last night, I'm not completely sure why this is affecting me and what I plan to do about it.

I've always had an overwhelming need to protect Grace. I honestly think I'm more intense about it than Riggs is. It's just the way it's always been.

I clear my throat, which suddenly feels like the Sahara. "What you said last night," I say, "about finding a guy when you get to LA to—" I can't even finish the sentence without feeling the burning embers of rage threaten to spark to life within me. "Did you mean it?"

She looks completely bewildered at first, the skin between her eyebrows bunching together as she tries to recall the exchange. I see the moment when it all clicks into place. "Oh," she says, "I mean, kinda. After watching that movie, it made me curious." She pauses, shaking her head as if she's just realizing how weird this whole conversation is. "Why are we talking about this?"

I ignore her question. "You know how dangerous that is? Choosing a random stranger to explore kink with? What if you get hurt, Grace?" My stomach twists with anxiety at the thought of some asshole being rougher than she wants or crossing the line from pleasure to pain. The more I let the scenarios play out in my head, the more my rage starts to bubble up, threatening to come to the surface.

She lets out an incredulous laugh. "I'm not just going to sling my honey pot at any ol' guy, Tan. I'll get to know him first to make sure he's a suitable candidate."

"I—your what ?" I ask, raising a brow. "Did you just refer to your vagina as a honey pot ?"

She sits up straighter. "Yes. Is that not an acceptable pseudonym? Would you rather I say pussy ? Or cunt ? Is that better?" She winces just the tiniest bit at that last one and I can tell she's trying to steel her expression to prove a point.

I cringe. "Jesus Christ, Grace." I don't even know why it's affecting me. I've said those words a million times. But coming from her innocent lips? They sound… filthy .

She smirks. "You look flustered. Was it something I said?" Little fucking brat. "Anyway," she says, changing directions, "what I do with my body isn't yours or Riggs' concern. I'm an adult. So, unless you're volunteering as tribute, you can cut the protective brother act. My hands are already full with the one I have."

For some reason, I black out and don't even consider the repercussions before blurting out my next words.

"Okay. Then I volunteer."

Her smug expression morphs into one of befuddlement before she chokes out a forced laugh. Only seconds later, she bursts into hysterics, popping her knees from under her t-shirt and leaning forward with a side-splitting howl. Tears fall from her eyes as she blinks at me, continuing to laugh as if I'm the funniest motherfucker to ever walk the earth. I just stare, waiting for her to get herself together as she lets out an adorable little snort before wiping her cheeks.

"Oh, that was good," she says. "I can always count on you for a chuckle, Tanner."

I stare, completely straight faced. "I'm not kidding, Bunny. If you want to explore that stuff, fine. But it's going to be with me."

What the fuck am I doing? This is Grace fucking Valentine. My best friend's little sister. The girl who used to beg us to leave the lights on in the tent when we'd go camping because she was afraid of the dark. And now I'm going to, what? Cuff her to the bed and spank her until she begs me to fuck her?

My cock twitches at the thought.

I'm not really thinking of doing this, am I?

What choice do I have? Either she goes off to school, finds some random guy who probably has zero experience with this, and ends up hurting her or forcing her to go too far before she's ready…or she can use me. At least this way, I'll know she's safe, cared for, and her boundaries aren't being pushed or crossed. It's the only option.

Her face turns serious. "Why does it seem like you're not messing with me?" she says, nervously playing with the hem of her t-shirt.

"Because I'm not," I answer with a shrug. "You have two choices, Gracie girl. You can do this with me, or I can show up at the worst possible times when you get to school and make sure you aren't doing anything I told you not to." I raise a brow, daring her to defy me.

Her shoulders sag in defeat as she swallows roughly. "Okay. "

"Good girl," I say, reaching up to ghost my fingertips over her jaw. She lets out a sharp breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into me. "I have some stuff to do today. I'll be back around eight tonight and we'll get started." I don't even give her a chance to reply before I press my lips to her forehead and stand, heading out her door.