Page 121 of Secret Obsession
“Well, that was fun,” Finch murmurs. “Willow, I think it’s your turn.”
“Miles, truth or dare.”
I sense that she wants me to pick a dare. Or maybe she wants a truth from me, I don’t know. Either way. “Dare.”
“I dare you to give your brother a lap dance for a full song.”
The room erupts into laughter.
I sit up straighter, nose to nose with her. “You’d like that, hmm?”
“No, but I think it would be funny,” she murmurs.
I shift her back on my lap and tear off my shirt. “Nice try.”
Our friends boo, but I wave them off. “There’s no fucking way. Greyson, truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
I lift my chin and fight my smirk. “Do you regret making Violet give Steele a blow job?”
Willow chokes, but it’s Aspen who has the weirdest reaction. She looks from Violet to Greyson to Steele, and she shoves herself off her boyfriend’s lap. Is she going to hit him? I could use some violence right about now—a different sort of outlet to the lingering fury under my skin.
But instead, she starts laughing.
Full, huge, belly laughs.
We stare at Aspen for a moment, and Steele runs his hand over his face.
“Fuck you, Whiteshaw,” Greyson murmurs. His grip on Violet tightens. “No, I don’t regret it. Because it made me realize that I couldn’t handle it if anyone else wanted to have her. Before that, I was just…” He shrugs and meets her eyes. “I love you, Vi.”
“I know.” She kisses him.
It’s sweet.
But Aspen is on the floor, still laughing hard enough that tears are tracking down her cheeks.
“Jesus, woman,” Steele mutters. He grabs her up and puts her back on his lap. “You aren’t mad that I didn’t tell you?”
She lifts one shoulder, her giggles trailing off. “I mean… no, I’m pretty pissedyoudidn’t tell me. But as far as it actually happening? I can only imagine how feral Greyson was after.” She pats Steele’s cheek. “You were the pawn in that scenario,sweetheart.”
We lapse into silence. I mean, she’s got a point.
“Moving on,” Greyson says after a minute. He opens his mouth to continue, but a huge crash outside stops him short.
I crane around, trying to see out the front windows. A second later, there’s a squealing of tires.
We’re up in an instant. I barely set Willow on her feet before me, Knox, Greyson, and Steele are rushing out the front door. Barefoot, bare-chested, in the middle of winter—doesn’t fucking matter.
My car is destroyed.
Hit-and-run, judging from the lack of a second vehicle. It took a direct hit to the front, which is crunched inward so far, it barely resembles a car. The back is crunched in, too, having met the back of Greyson’s truck. He must have a hitch attached or some shit, because his doesn’t appear damaged in the slightest.
Mine’s just an unfortunate pancake.
Willow appears at my side, her hand slipping into mine. “Holy shit.”
I sigh. But then her grip tightens, and she points down the street.
