Page 43 of Searching for Hope

“I’m already late.” I lie.

Jericho narrows his eyes. “Are you going to that party?”

“It’s the only way we’re going to get close to him, so yes. I promised to help you find your wife and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t care.” I look up at him defiantly.

His eyes harden. “You’re not going.”

I turn, but he grabs my shoulder and pulls me back, shoving me against the wall and pressing his body close to mine. I hate that my pulse races. I hate that my body heats.

“You are not going,” he growls.

I shove him but he doesn’t move. So I lift my chin instead. “You can’t stop me.”

“Are you sure about that?” His breath is hot on my ear. His face is close to mine, his lips only an inch away. And it feels glorious. It feels dangerous and daring. It lights something in my veins and lust runs through my blood. I hate that he does this to me.

Lifting my knee, I shove it into his groin. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

He lets out a low groan of air as he doubles over. “Berkley,” my name comes out forced and winded. I start to walk away. “Don’t you even think about going to that party tonight.”

I run up the stairs. “What are you going to do?” I throw over my shoulder. “Lock me in my room?”

Having recovered, he starts gaining on me. Again that rush of adrenaline, the excitement of what he might do, of what I want him to do, floods my veins.

“Don’t think I won’t,” he growls, reaching for me, but missing.

I freeze and turn around so he almost bumps into me. “Do that again and I’ll never forgive you. Do you understand? Never.”

Because I’m on the steps above him, we’re at the exact same eye-height. His gaze bores into mine. He’s filled with barely controlled rage but he doesn’t take a step further. It’s so unbelievably hot. He’s held merely by my word. I can see the torment and conflict in his eyes but he doesn’t move. Eventually, he raises his hands and steps back down.

“Barrett will go with you and bring you home afterward.”

Home.

Is this place my home?

Or am I merely the person wrecking his?

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

He walks up a step, once again towering over me. “I don’t want you going alone.”

I flick my gaze past him and to Gideon, who has crept up the stairs, watching the drama between Jericho and I unfold. Some of his hatred toward me has faded since he dropped the truth of who Hope was. I think there’s a small part of him that almost feels sorry for me.

“Your brother is insisting someone accompany me to a party tonight.” I look back to meet Jericho’s blazing gaze. “Want to come?”

“Don’t,” Jericho growls as Gideon bounds up the steps.

“Did someone say party?” He muscles in beside his brother but Jericho doesn’t even turn to look at him. He keeps his eyes fixed on me. They burn with intensity, green jealousy singeing the blue.

“A pool party,” I clarify.

Gideon claps his brother on the shoulder, grinning at me and wiggling his eyebrows. “Count me in.”

“There,” I say to Jericho. “I will have a chaperone.”

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