Page 92 of Choke

He doesn’t wait for me to put my seat belt on, shifting into gear and spinning the tires. The acceleration makes my heart beat faster, and I scramble to buckle in; this feels so unsafe. Like we’re barreling toward the scene of the crash. He grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are white, and I avert my gaze, looking out the window at the city as it passes by in a blur. I register the static on the radio as he smashes the buttons, flipping through stations before punching the dial, making me flinch and basking us in silence.

“You looked like you fucking wanted him.” He grits out.

Tell him he’s wrong.

The little voice urges, but…I can’t…

“Maybe I already had him.” Low, steady, and soft.

Bold and idiotic.

I could tell him the truth, that I have no interest in Greg, that I never have. Greg was always a way of getting under his skin, but it wasn’t intentional this time. It was happenstance, and I’d have preferred never to see the guy again, but I am not rude, and he was kind. Adrian growls, low and menacing, but doesn’t speak again. I refuse to back down on this. I didn’t do anything wrong.

But I can feel him detonating, and I’m in the blast zone.

When we pull up outside a massive house, I’m on the verge of apologizing, not for having coffee with Greg, but for using it to antagonize him. I shift in my seat, turning toward him, but he’s already leaving the truck. He walks around, pulling my door open.

“Get out.”

Stepping down, I straighten my dress, working to pull it lower on my thighs, and he offers his arm to me. My skin heats and crawls at the same time. I want to touch him, if maybe only to hurt him. I slip my arm through his, and he immediately pulls me toward the front door. Only when we reach the door does he stop.

Without looking at me, he says, “This is your chance to walk away. From this. From me. Walk away now, and you’ll never see me again. I’ll forget you ever fucking existed.”

His words have the most unexpected impact as my heart splinters and aches.

I’m not ready to lose him.

I can’t say it, though; I can’t speak at all. I straighten, smooth my dress again, and brush the wisps of hair out of my face. He nods and pushes the door open.

The mudroom is the only space free from people. Beyond it, the house is jam-packed, and I don’t recognize anyone. As Adrian leads us in, people turn to look at us, whispering to each other. I hear one guy say, “What the fuck is he doing here?” as we pass. We reach the kitchen, and only then do I see familiarity in the surrounding faces. I see the woman I chatted with at the event after the charity game, and she offers me a confused-looking smile. My nerve endings come alive, firing all over my body. This is a party for Greg’s team.

“Stay here,” Adrian commands before releasing my arm and walking out of view. I lace my fingers together in front of me, desperate to shield myself but not wanting to display my insecurity to the strangers before me. I scan the room, so many eyes on me, but no one approaches me. I feel so exposed.

I step forward, looking toward where Adrian went, but I don’t see him. Chewing my bottom lip, I turn when I feel a hand on my back, soft and warm. Greg’s beautiful face fills my view, a genuine smile on his lips.

“Lex! Twice in one week. Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I gotta ask, what are you doing here?”

He’s a nice guy.

He really is going to get me into so much trouble.

I’m stumbling through a response when I feel that familiar charge in the air, the gravitational pull of Adrian’s presence. Greg’s eyes shift behind me, and his smile falters for a moment before he forces it back, now less sincere.

“Liberty—less happy to see you,” He bites out.

What is it with these two?

“Greg, nice party.”

His heavy arm lands across my shoulders, and he catches me off guard when he claims my mouth in a devastating kiss, his tongue pushing past my lips. No tenderness, just raw, punishing possession. Heat pools between my legs, and as much as I hate him, I don’t want to pull away. He ends the kiss, leaving my lips stinging from the hardness of it.

I’m dazed and spinning out while they hold a tense stare. I can feel the war that exists between them. This is so much more than me going to the event or coming here with Adrian. I’m collateral. I need to break this before it escalates, so I slip my fingers through Adrian’s, gently tugging. His eyes shift to mine, but they don’t ease their intensity.

“Let’s get a drink,” I suggest.

I want to leave, but I don’t think Adrian has made his point.

“Bar is in the back of the house. Help yourselves,” Greg says.

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