Page 9 of Fury
The honesty in his voice makes me shiver. We're barely dancing now, just swaying slightly, our bodies pressed together in a way that's making it difficult to think straight.
"And now?" I ask, hardly recognizing my own voice.
His eyes darken. "Now you're back. And I'm not wasting any more time pretending I don't want you."
The song ends, but neither of us moves to break apart. We stand there, suspended in a moment that feels like the edge of something important, something life-changing.
"Livie!" Aunt Brittany's voice cuts through the tension. "Come meet my new assistant!"
Reality crashes back in. The party, the people, the expectations. I step back from Greyson reluctantly, already missing his warmth.
"I should…" I gesture vaguely toward my aunt.
"Go," he says, though his eyes tell a different story. "We'll finish this conversation later."
It sounds like both a promise and a warning. I nod, not trusting my voice, and turn to join Aunt Brittany across the room. Every step feels like I'm walking through molasses, my body rebelling against the distance I'm putting between us.
"Sorry to interrupt," Aunt Brittany whispers when I reach her, not looking sorry at all. "But your father was about to spontaneously combust."
I glance back to see Dad watching Greyson with narrowed eyes. When he catches me looking, his expression softens, but the warning is clear. Be careful.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversations and catching up, though I'm hyperaware of Greyson's presence across the room. He's pulled into club business, speaking with various members of both MCs, but his eyes find mine repeatedly throughout the night, each glance like a physical touch.
By midnight, the party is still going strong, but exhaustion from the emotional day is catching up with me. I find Mom in the kitchen, helping to refill platters of food.
"I think I'm going to head out," I tell her, stifling a yawn.
She studies my face with that uncanny maternal perception. "Want Dad to follow you home?"
"I'm just going back to the house," I remind her. "I can manage the five-minute drive."
"Mmm." She doesn't look convinced. "The stalker thing has him on edge, baby. All of us, really."
I sigh, wishing I'd never mentioned it. "I know. But I'm home now. Safe."
After promising to text when I arrive, I make my rounds saying good night, collecting hugs and welcome homes one last time. I'm almost to the door when a warm hand catches my elbow.
"Leaving so soon?" Greyson asks, his voice low.
I turn to face him, struck again by how handsome he is up close. "It's been a long day."
"Let me walk you to your car."
It's not a question, but I nod anyway. Outside, the night air is cool against my flushed skin. The parking lot is quieter than inside, though music and laughter still filter through the open doors.
We reach my car, but I make no move to unlock it, not ready for this night to end despite my fatigue. Greyson leans against the driver's side door, effectively blocking my escape, his eyes never leaving my face.
"We never finished our conversation."
"No, we didn't." I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. "What happens now, Greyson?"
"Now?" He reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple touch sends sparks across my skin. "Now, I take you to dinner tomorrow night. Somewhere outside this town where we can talk without fifty pairs of eyes watching our every move."
"Is that wise?" I ask, though everything in me is screaming yes. "Our clubs?—"
"Are allies," he interrupts. "Have been for decades. Your dad might not love the idea of you with me, but he respects me." His hand cups my cheek. "Unless there's another reason you're hesitating?"
I lean into his touch, unable to help myself. "No other reason," I whisper. "Just… this feels big. Important."
