Free FIT: #1 in the Fit Trilogy by Rebekah Weatherspoon

scratched his day’s worth of stubble. “I can’t imagine breaking in someone new at this point.”
    “Honestly, I didn’t even think of that. Having to train her or whatever.”
    Armando shook his head. He had every right to. Grant was lucky Violet hadn’t ripped his nuts off during their first conversation. His tunnel vision was so damn tight and closed off, he skipped several must-do steps when trying to bring someone into the scene.
    “Let’s not tell Master Philip about this,” he suggested. Violet was perfectly safe with Grant and damn near running their relationship as it was, but their mentor would definitely have a thing or two to say about Grant’s approach.
    “My lips are sealed,” Armando replied. “You stupid fuck.”
    Just then, Grant’s phone vibrated and beeped in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at a picture of Violet standing in some store dressing room, wearing a tight black lace dress. Her cellphone caught the reflection of her hip, cocked out to the side, creating the sexiest silhouette. Her other hand was holding up her mass of thick hair on top of her head. Her full lips were pursed in an expression that was part invitation, part warning. The woman had curves for days. Grant would do anything to help her reach her fitness goals, but that body? His eyeballs almost rolled back in his head.
    Then another text popped up.

    Finished my weekly assignment. Bought the boots, but they’re in the car. Can I have the D now?

    “See. How do I say no to this face?” Grant turned his phone around so Armando could see the picture and the text.
    “God damn. She’s thick.”
    “I know.”
    “Yeah, okay. I’d let her talk back to me. What’s this about giving her the D? You haven’t fucked her yet?”
    “Mando, I said this before. You and I have two completely different styles of dealing with our pets. I like to take my time. You, on the other hand, are impatient and don’t see the value in making a woman wait.”
    “No complaints, yet, my brother. Not a single complaint.” Armando handed the phone back, and continued ragging on Grant. “She ain’t your pet. You’re hers. If she were mine , I would have fucked her already. Shit, I might fuck her if you don’t hurry the hell up and get the job done.”
    Grant squared Armando with a deadly stare that was only edged with humor. “Try it.” They’d shared women before, plenty of times, but Grant wouldn’t even entertain the thought of sharing Violet.
    “You know I’m fucking with you. I know better than to come between you and a woman who makes you sing. That’s when I know you’re whipped enough to take a swing at me.”
    Whipped? For some reason, Grant couldn’t see a problem with that, but whipped within reason. He might be singing and staking his claim on a woman he’d only just met, but Armando didn’t get to see Violet the way Grant did. He didn’t get to see the fire in her eyes when she came to him willingly and followed his every order. He didn’t hear the way her voice strained when she asked for what she wanted. Yeah he was whipped, to the point where he texted Violet right back. Still, he had to keep up the front, like he really thought he was in control of the situation.

    You’ll get the D when I say so.

    Violet replied . That’s too bad. I was going to wear this dress for you.

    Grant winced and dropped his phone. He was in over his head.
    ✶
    Violet pushed her chair back and stood. Her whole body ached as she stretched. She’d been in that horrible designer chair for almost six hours and from the look of her inbox and the constant ringing of her cell phone she knew she wasn’t going anywhere soon. She’d been with Faye, their casting director Jonathan, and their executive producer Dana at Dana’s Malibu home all day. It was another few days before their office space would be set up on the studio lot. When crisis arose—that kind of crisis that wasn’t actually serious in terms of life or death, but