Have you?
Lex
He’s leaning against the wall in my bedroom, arms folded across his chest, looking like a fucking storm cloud, eyes trained on me as I struggle to get myself together. My head is full of fog, so unclear.
What does he expect from me?
“Your world, Lex. I’m just living in it.” He deadpans.
Fuck off, Adrian.
I shake my head and mutter under my breath as I open the top drawer of my dresser, pulling out clean undies. Even with my back to him, I feel the weight of his stare, making me feel insecure and small, suffocating me. Stepping into the closet, I scan the options, but I’m lost; I can’t pick something appropriate without knowing the plan. What kind of party? Where is it? I grab black dress pants and a silk button-down top. Generic and neutral.
I spin, clothes in hand, and slam into him—solid, commanding. My heart stutters. I didn’t even hear him move. For his size, he’s incredibly light on his feet. His narrowed gaze coils hot in my stomach, twisting me up. His hand wraps around the hangers in my hand and reaches around me to put them back.
“No.”
What the—
“Adrian, what the hell?”
Frayed. Raw. What the fuck does he want from me?
“No pants. Find a dress or a skirt.”
I want to argue with him and scream at him, but he seems so frenzied, like a live wire, sparking and ready to burn the world. I bite my tongue, steady my breath, and turn back to the closet, spotting the black dress Rosie gave me. Pulling it out, I expect him to deny it; it’s so short. So revealing.
Instead, he steps away, crosses the room, resumes his stance, and watches me. I slip the dress on, adjust the thin straps, and turn to the mirror. It hugs my curves and displays so much of my body, of the tattoos I cover myself with.
Naked. I feel naked.
“Great. Let’s go.” His tone is pointed and sharp.
My eyes fly to his.
“Adrian, I need to put on makeup and do my hair… I can’t go out like this.” I hold my arms out. My hair is everywhere; there are black streaks from my mascara running.
He lets out a huff and offers me a dismissive wave. The movement is so disrespectful, and I glare at him as I walk past him toward the bathroom.
Such a jerk.
I lean into the counter, focusing on deep breathing. My head spins, and I can feel a panic attack coming on. I turn on the cold water, plug the drain, and let the sink fill before I submerge my face.
Feel the cold.
Feel the strain, the slow burn in my chest.
Feel the weightlessness of those few seconds where nothing exists but water and silence.
Feel.
Feel the heat of him standing behind me.
I pull my head up, and he’s right there. His expression is somehow gentler and more curious.
“What are you doing?” He asks.
Tears prickle my eyes, and I won’t cry for him, instead reaching for the hand towel and drying my face.
“Can you give me 10 minutes to finish up here?” I won’t give him a ‘please.’
He walks away without a word, and I gently close and lock the door. My desire to slam it is tampered only by the need to avoid a fight.
This is so fucked up.
I get to work, twisting my hair into a loose braid and pulling pieces out to frame my face. Given his pressure to hurry, I skip a full face of makeup and opt for a strip of fake lashes and lipstick. When I finish, I look at myself in the mirror, and I look effortless.
Guess this’ll have to do.
Opening the door, I see him. For a second—barely a blink—he looks wrecked. Hollow. His shoulders slump, and his jaw clenches. My breath catches because I’ve never seen him like this.
Then, like a snapped rubber band, the mask slides back into place. His face hardens, and his exhaustion vanishes.
He stands, cold and sharp again. “Let’s go.”
His tone is so flat and free from emotion; all I can do is follow him. The elevator is silent and thick with tension. He storms out of the building, letting the doors slam into me. I urge myself not to fall apart as I watch him step into the driver’s seat of his big black truck.
I look down the street and consider running for it, but where would I go so he wouldn’t find me? I’m wearing heels, and he’s bigger and faster even if I was in runners. He would catch me. Resigned, I round the truck and climb into the passenger seat, gently shutting the door and sealing my fate.
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.
Adrian says nothing as he pulls me away. He leads us down the hall toward the rear of this giant house to a large bar. Reaching into a fridge, he pulls out a few bottles and cans. Thank God, he hands me a can of vodka soda. I would have taken anything, but this will be easier to drink.
“Drink up, baby. This is about to get fun.”
His tone is like ice over my skin, so dark and demented. He’s made his point, hasn’t he? Grabbing my hand again, he drags me to another area, a living room filled with groups of people speaking in animated tones. They hush as we walk in, and I lift the can to my lips, draining it. Adrian takes the empty can, replacing it with an unopened one. I open it and drink most of it down, willing the alcohol to ease the edge off.
He spins a chair from the table in the center of the room, where a group of men are playing poker, and sits, motioning for me. I step toward the table and grab a chair when he huffs a dark laugh and pulls me into his lap. His lips brush my ear; his warm breath skates across my neck and cheek when he speaks, tsking.
“There won’t be any question about who you belong to when we leave here.” His hand moves across my stomach, and I fight the urge to lean back into him. If the circumstances were different, this would feel so right, but I know there’s a storm raging inside of him; between us.
“They’re all watching us,” He whispers, so only I can hear him. “Waiting to see if you’ll get on your knees for me.”
As he speaks, I feel his dick thicken under my ass.
The hand lazily running over my stomach drops lower, pressing between my crossed thighs and pushing its way up.
God, help me.
My eyes flutter when he makes contact with my clit through my panties. Pushing him off would draw more attention than were already receiving, so I sit still, working not to react to his touch. His teeth on the sensitive spot between my neck and shoulder make me hiss in a breath, wincing.
Between bites, he utters, “You can try to hide it, but they’re all gonna watch you come undone for me.”
I should leave.
I should hate this.
I do hate this. Right?
This couldn’t possibly turn me on… but then why am I so wet?
My heart feels like a galloping horse as his finger flicks back and forth over me, sending sparks deep into my stomach—white-hot heat. My thighs clench around his hand, but it’s useless—he’s so strong, and he’s dragging me under. I don’t realize I’m slowly grinding into him until he lets out a low groan.
The eyes on us drive me closer to the edge. This feels so good. I allow my eyes to close, block out the audience, and register the change in Adrian before words are spoken.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” Greg demands.
My eyes spring open, and he’s standing directly before us, glaring down at Adrian. My cheeks heat with embarrassment and desire. Adrian’s body is tense, but he doesn’t remove his hand or stop the movement, back and forth, back and forth. I bite back a moan.
Leaning over my shoulder slightly, he speaks directly to Greg.
“Greg, you ever heard her scream your name?”
Greg’s eyebrows shoot up, but Adrian continues.
“Ever seen her writhe under you? Felt her tighten around you? Heard the way she begs to come?”
With the final word, he pushes his finger past my panties and slips it inside of me. I know I’m wet. As brutal as this is, it feels unbelievable. I can’t look at Greg. My stomach twists tight when he pulls his hand out, lifting it toward his face.
“Have you ever tasted her sweet cunt?”
Oh my god.
I can’t see his face, but I know he pops his finger into his mouth, cleaning me off of it.
I can’t move, can’t breathe. The whole room is watching us.
Greg’s jaw flexes, and his eyes narrow on us.
“You two fucking deserve each other; you’re both fucking crazy.” He fires at us.
I open my mouth to speak. “Greg, I’m…”
Adrian’s hand clamps over my mouth, silencing me.
“Don’t you dare apologize to him—I’m the only man you’ll beg for anything, including forgiveness.” He grits his teeth and whispers into my ear before shifting his focus back to Greg. “Stick around, Greg. Stay for the show.”
A dark chuckle rumbles out of his chest, and he works my short dress a little higher, leaving my ass bare against him.
Wait, what?
His hand is between us, working at something.
What is he doing?
He pushes me forward slightly, and my hands land on Greg’s thighs to stop myself from falling. I look up at him, apologizing with my eyes, but seeing that his mouth has parted, and he’s breathing hard. I can see the ridge of his hard cock in his pants. His expression makes me so confused that I forget Adrian is still moving behind me.
In one swift movement, he yanks my panties aside and buries himself inside me.
I gasp—a wild, broken sound that’s lost beneath the pulse roaring in my ears.