Page 58 of Choke

Forcing a smile, I reply. “Just to the ladies. I’ll be right back.”

His eyes shift, looking at my mouth, and I spot another cut hiding in his eyebrow.

“Promise?” He asks, his tone husky.

I nod slightly, and just before I can step out of his grasp, he presses a forceful kiss to my lips, and I taste the metallic tang of blood.

Ew.

I allow it to happen, not wanting to create a scene. He’s just drunk enough that being rejected could cause him to act out. Greg steps back, and I slowly turn and walk away. I inhale, relief washing over me. It lasts all of three seconds.

Another hand wraps around my arm, which is stronger and harder, bordering on pain. I turn to protest, but the words catch in my throat when my eyes meet Adrian’s. They are black. His chest rises and fallslike he just ran a mile. His fists flex at his sides. I scan left and right, looking for someone willing to rescue me from this.

“Look at me, Lex,” He commands, his grip tightening.

I wince, looking directly at him. There’s not a fucking mark on his face.

“You’re hurting me.” I grit out, trying to pull my arm out of his grasp.

“Then we’re getting a little closer to even.” He responds.

The look in his eyes is tormented.

“Even?” I scoff. “We’re so far from even.”

He rears to his full height, eyes roaming over my body before returning to mine. A sinister grin spreads across his lips.

“You’re right. Not even close.” His tone makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It’s twisted and eerie. My pulse quickens as he holds my gaze. Instinctively, I relax my body against him.

What. Are. You. Doing?

I can feel the edges of the muscle under his shirt against me. I sigh, fluttering my lashes, and breathe in the smokey smell that seems to follow him. I’m drowning in his scent, stare, and heat. Then his voice drags me back to reality like a rip current.

“You’re in his fucking jersey.”

I can see his pulse pounding in the vein in his throat. He tugs at the shoulder, his fingers curling into the fabric like he might rip it off.

I try to yank my arm away, but his grip is too firm, and he smirks.

“That’s my fucking business.” I work to steel my voice.

God, please, rip it off.

“Then why are you shaking?”

Fuck.

“And this skirt—” his fingers flick at the slit, making the fabric flutter, exposing more skin— “parading around for him?” His tone is razor sharp, almost mocking. “Letting him touch you?”

With the last words, his hand slides up the inside of my skirt, brushing against my clit through my panties.

I stifle a groan.

“Adrian…” My tone is more breathy than stern.

I’m ready to grind into him when I sense another presence.

“Not to interrupt this dramatic performance,” Calloway says flatly, his tongue pressing against his cheek as he winces slightly. “But Brittney’s going to lose it if this ends up on social media. And, uh—” he motions his chin toward Greg, who looks one breath away from a meltdown— “The Grizz is about three seconds from getting himself ejected from this party.”

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